Do you remember when...

I was seven and you were eight, and we were playing hide and seek and wandered far away from the other kids. We ended up beneath a willow tree, and you asked me if I wanted to play doctor and I said, "okay!" So you said you needed to examine me, so I pulled up the skirt on my pink polka-dotted dress, and pulled down my panties and you looked very carefully to make sure that I wasn't sick. And then I was the doctor and you pulled down your shorts and underwear and I stared, amazed to see how different you were...

And do you remember your hand between my legs when I was your childhood sweetheart and we were necking in the back of a '57 Chevy? I was a good Catholic girl, so we never had intercourse, but after a lot of petting and promises, you could pretty much touch me wherever you wanted, though I never took my clothes off. Your hands would slip beneath my white blouse and push my bra off my firm young breasts and sometimes I'd let you unbutton the blouse so that you could suck on the dark pink nipples while your fingers slid beneath white cotton panties to the thick swatch of blond hair and then up and inside me, and we were trying so hard to be quiet even though we were up at Lookout Point and the only people around were other couples in other cars doing exactly what we were doing...

Or maybe you don't like me as a blonde. Maybe you prefer me as your wife, with sweet brown curls and a surprisingly wicked streak. You like me whispering suggestions in your ear, "Let me touch you, let me suck you, let me lick your cock, your balls, your asshole...call me your little girl and I'll call you daddy...call me your slut, your whore, whatever you like but please fuck me now -- I'll beg you if you want, oh yes..."

Would you prefer to beg? Me with flowing auburn hair down to my butt and green eyes and all in black. A black leather bodice laced tight so my breasts overflowed at the top, and black leather pants with the crotch cut out and black boots with five-inch spike heels and a nine-tailed cat in my hands, its soft leather aching for your back. I'd have you on your knees beneath me, begging for a chance to please your mistress, and I'd slap your face saying, "Who gave you permission to speak, little boy?! You only open your mouth when I say you do, understand? And now I want you to use it, crawl over here and lick me like you mean it." And when you do, I will get angry, and say you aren't doing a good job, and the cat will rain blows on your naked back and you will kneel there, silently begging with your eyes and trying not to scream...

I can be everything your heart desires -- everything your groin demands. And all I ask is that you never expect me to fold the laundry.