The dinner dishes are completely forgotten."Do you want it?" this time he's more insistent.I hate it when he makes me beg. He makes me feel so filthy ...or asking."Underwear? Really? You know that won't stop me." he questions me before dropping my damp panties to the floor.Every night, he'll tease me. Prod me into asking. My self-control has gotten quite strong but after a week, I'll crack. Then I'll beg. He denies himself the pleasure too.He can't believe his luck in finding a girl like me, that. I say that because I had, probably unknowingly and unwillingly, experienced some physical contact with men earlier in my life but I don’t think that this forum is the place to publish those however I am happy to talk privately about them as looking back on it I found the events quite exciting.However, back to the point of the post. I was in my mid 20’s, and a single soldier based in Germany having plenty of fun. I had done a German language course so was reasonably confident and competent in. When the Master sits, the Slave shall lay on the floor under the Master feet, in order that the Master can use the Slave face or body to rest his feet. When coming home the Master will use the Slave tongue to clean his dirty shoes or boots in order that the floor of the house can be kept clean.When preparing his meals the Master will have the Slave at his side in order to use the slave’s mouth to deposit the remains of the preparation. All the organic waste that usually is sent to the garbage. Briefly. Too briefly. A friendly kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. ‘It’s ok. I’m glad you came. Let’s have your picnic.’ _______________________ She drove them to a nearby park. They were mostly silent in the car, an awkward distance between these two who had shared intimate fantasies they dared not share with their spouses in the safety of cyberspace. They were, in truth, two shy, faithful people who somehow connected on a different level. Opening the trunk of her Saab, she hauled out a picnic.