A Rope Bondage Pout
Monmouth likes a good pout, whichever lips are involved:
Her mouth settled into a pout – the slight uplift of her upper lip resting on the soft plumpness of the lower, which she would gently bite with her front teeth when listening, looking at me as if assessing…
Later, days later, I think, this expression and the slight downward curve of her mouth lingered in my mind. Thinking about our evening, wondering if she had any bruises that had lasted for a day or two, the image of her lips, the slight pout, mingled with the recollection of her plump labia, softly pinched between two strands of rope passed on either side in between her legs and up the cleft of the buttocks. The knot resting on top of the clit supplied additional stimulation while the rope was woven around the torso, squeezing tighter by increments.
She bit her lip softly when I drew the soft cotton rope over her shoulders and brought it together in a knot on top of her sternum. I was wondering whether to remove her knickers, by now drenched with her juices, but decided against it. Cheryl seemed far too certain that I would be easily tempted.
Her labia minora pushed out like an erection, the peach and pink silk of her knickers not really disguising this when I arranged the strands of rope to hug them close.
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