Thanks for taking a minute to join me here in my little corner of the internet. I’m the mouse hole in the mansion that is the internet, in the corner of the pantry off the kitchen, at the back behind the long forgotten mop bucket and Pine-Sol. I expect to go largely unnoticed by the world, but for those adventurous few of you who find your way through my mouse hole, together we will explore a world filled with dominant T-Girls. We will discuss the impossible as if it were the every day, dreams as if they are reality and desires, oh the desires, those will be plumbed to the very depths. There will be the whimsical, the humorous, the thoughtful, the provoking, the sad and so many other emotions. Welcome Alex, or is it Alice? But whomever it is, ignore that silly looking glass and follow me down the mouse hole into my world of T-Girl dominance and my view of submission.
“It’s so hard to motivate kids these days. You punish them for not turning in the homework you’ve given them and the next thing you know it like and epidemic! No one’s turning in their homework and you spend the whole day doling out punishments! It’s enough to wear a dedicated teacher out! I wonder, since this isn’t working as a punishment, would it work as a reward?”
Your girlfriend has a surprise for you and practically drags you up to her bedroom. She makes you face the closet as she gets ready and when she tells you to turn around you see her reclining on the bed. The look in her eye says she wants to try something new, and you’re going to try it with her. Wanna see how big it gets?
You search and you search. Suffering through endless dates with women who expound about the intelligence of their cat or the evils of their ex as you smile and nod pleasantly while secretly hoping the waiter will stumble and pierce her jugular with a fork. Then one day, when you least expect it, sitting by a pool on your solitary vacation, you meet her. She’s bright and beautiful, confident in an almost arrogant way with a sexual undertow that threatens to pull you out to sea. Before you can muster the nerve to ask her back to your room she askes you up to her suite. Her passion is astounding and she sweeps you up, taking control of the love making. After the shock of her rather large revelation fades away, you allow her to plunge onward. And she plunges and plunges and plunges, joyfully driving you both through twists and turns of sexual acrobatics that would make a porn star sigh in weariness.
In the end, you lay together spread eagle on the king-sized bed, catching your breath. The sunset over the ocean has stolen into the room to paint the walls in colors of rose and orange, and your afternoon of debauchery is drawing to a close. Her hand finds its way to your thigh and with an urgent squeeze she alerts you to her growing interest in having you spend the night. With a delighted smile you roll into her arms, knowing you have finally found true happiness.
You go out on a blind date with this cute girl your cousin hooked you up with. You are a complete gentleman, flirty without trying to get in her pants. Hey, you actually like hanging out with her and don’t want to screw up what could be a great thing. The evening is winding down and the conversation hits that lull where you say it’s time to go home, then she tells you she was expecting to at least get a blowjob out of this date, and you end up spending the night anyway.
Darn neighbor. Sneaking in while she’s at work and humping her guy.
I had an email exchange with a fan recently. They requested a sequel to a story that might have an interesting second chapter out there, but at this point I don’t have anything in my head for it, so I declined. The fan was gracious about it, but I could feel the disappointment in their email.
I feel bad whenever I disappoint a fan. I wish that I could find that one screw, that one that drives each and every one of you absolutely over the edge each time, every time, and then tighten it down until just looking at your computer and thinking about my story for you makes your pulse quicken. But let’s face it, I have to paint with a much broader stroke.
For me to get started painting with my words at all, I have to have something in my head and I don’t always have that. There are several series on Literotica that I would like to finish, but those endings have not come to mind yet (All though I’m getting close to something for Helen and Jim.) and I sure as heck don’t want to ‘Game of Thrones’ the endings.
All this is meant to give a little context to ‘I’m sorry’. I’m sorry when I disappoint even one fan. Please forgive me and rest assured, I’m still looking for your perfect screw. Pun intended.
Your Humble Author,
Sometimes things that are said teasingly have and undercurrent of truth. Ignore those comments at your own risk.
He’d followed her for ten shows and she’d finally picked him to help her ‘calm down’ before the show.