As fantasy it was deliciously submissive, but totally not sustainable. So, it remained a subject for fantasy, and play. Actually being cut wasn’t li...e whip marks. Clitorises, once pruned, they don’t grow back.This is story is fictionalized reality. Stuff that happened at different times, and with different people, conflated, rewritten, made simple and manageable. IT WAS A GAME we played with each other occasionally while the boys were away in southeast Asia.We love each other, and at times our. Her hair was longer than her mother’s. Her face, he remembered, was angelic—her voice seductive. If anything nature had started with her mother’s great genes and gone one better. She remembered him well and instead of the expected hand shake gave him a Miss America smile, a big hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. She was truly a knockout. As he was to discover during the evening she shared her mother’s quick wit and delightfully easy manner. He was smitten before desert was served. He really. Her shirt would get tighter as her pants would pull tight around her thighs and butt.None of this registered to Denise, though, as she continued stuffing more and more food in her mouth. Well, some of it was, she was getting more and more turned on by the sensation of eating so much food, even though she wasn’t feeling full yet. She just felt.. hungry. So she kept eating chewing, small moans escaping between mouthfuls of food. With each order of food, of course, came a drink which was. I followed his lead and kicked off my shoes then slipped off my jeans. Nick pulled pillows from the sofa and propped his head while he lay on his back. I got down on the floor then climbed on top of him. Nick spread his legs slightly and I lay between them with my head on his chest as we watched television. From time to time we both ran our hands through each other’s hair. From time to time Nick would rake his hand down my back stopping at my sheer clad ass. He’d let his hand rest on my cheeks.