I’m pretty sure I know exactly what I’d be thinking when I heard that knock:
“No. Please. Don’t tell me she invited a man.”
Then I’d hear the door open. A man’s voice. His footsteps. And finally his hand on my legs, slow and confident.
If he picked me up and carried me to the bed, taking control and guiding my body with those hands, I’d probably realize far too late that the thing I was most afraid of was exactly what I’d secretly been hoping would happen.
And knowing there’s such a physically imposing, aroused, and very well-endowed man standing in front of me?
That should be enough to convince me this fantasy has gone way too far.
The problem is, it only makes me want to be that Sissy on the couch even more.
