You over there.
I know you're there... I don't know your name, but I know you're coming by. I see your city pop up in my stats... Cardiff... Stockholm... Santa Monica... Ronkonkoma... Bucharest... College Park... Tel Aviv... not to mention assorted sites in Germany, Saudi Arabia, Japan...
It's ok if you don't want to say anything. Really! But sometimes...
Do I inspire you?
You don't have to give me the details, though I admit I love the idea of someone being driven to masturbate by my scattered stories and fantasies and descriptions of what the sadist does to me. But don't worry - you're entitled to your secrets. We all have those.
But once a year, thanks to Bonnie at My Bottom Smarts, a time is set aside for all you shy ones and all of you who just have nothing to add but keep coming back if only to sneer at this aging hippie who claims to be a poet. Meaning you.
Come out, come out, wherever you are!
I won't look if you don't want me to.
Or I will deliberately look if you want to stand there naked before me, wanking away at your persistent erection or rubbing that pretty little spot between your legs. If only I could reward you by demonstrating the things my Master has taught me to do with my tongue! If only I could reward you sadists by presenting myself to be bound to the bed or the tree or the dining room table, and then giving you the feast of my screams as you go at my ass with the palm of your hand or your trusty leather belt or your favorite flogger or whatever it is you use as a cane...
I'm squirming now....
I'm wet now...
Does that please you?
And for all my dear submissive friends, we'll curl up in our pyjamas (you too, Orlando), or maybe naked would be better, and share stories and tears and suck each other's tits (you, too, Orlando) and enjoy the benefits of community.
We'll work on it.
Maybe next year.
please just stick your head out
and say hi,
or give me a silent wave of the hand
and this little attention slut
will be very very happy.
And then we'll have an orgy.