1. Trust


    Date: 7/17/2015, Categories: BDSM, Shemales, Author: klammer, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    didn't hear what you said,&#034 I confessed in a miserable whisper. &#034I didn't, umm, want to ask. And you said, 'pink ones.' So I wore... I'm wearing pink ones.&#034 No response. I finally dared to look up. There was an astonished grin spreading over her face, as she understood what it was I had to be referring to. She reached for my hip, and I shied away, face flaming. She giggled. &#034Really?&#034 she asked, her voice vibrant. &#034My god, how wonderful! I didn't think you'd have the...&#034 She looked at me. &#034You really do mean 'anything,' don't you?&#034 I nodded, relieved when we started walking again. &#034Even if I take you home right now and tell you to show me that you trust me.&#034 That was a statement, not a question. But I confirmed it with a nod and a glance. I was wishing she'd take charge of my heart again, since I was getting very tired of its antics. It was trying to break my eardrums. We walked to the edge of the park before she spoke again. &#034Why were you so stubborn four months ago?&#034 She didn't wait for an answer, but continued, gently, &#034I told you to meet me here at 7:30; you must have gotten that part. And that I wouldn't demand anything beyond your strength. And that to symbolize the start of a new relationship, I'd bring you flowers. Pink ones, like the ones you gave me, in our first relationship.&#034 Well, good news and bad news all at once. I didn't understand what she meant by 'new relationship.' On the one hand, I wanted ...
    whatever she was willing to give. On the other hand... on the other hand, I corrected myself, I also wanted whatever she was willing to give. Did that settle that? Although it worried me a little that she was giving *me* flowers, instead of the other way around. We were heading for a restaurant that had been one of our casual, talking spots. It had always been easier for us to talk in a public place, a neutral zone, rather than at one of our houses. Between the flowers, the panties that *kept* reminding me of their existence, and the things that she had said, that I had to mull over, I was abstracted, and she ordered the table, guided me to it, and took my coat as I sat down. I flushed, realizing that since we had met in the park, I had taken the 'feminine' role. She smiled, in a way that said she understood why I was blushing. I crowded myself into a corner of the booth, and tried to adjust. We had used this place, in particular, because the lighting was dim, the booths reached the ceiling, and so we could talk with a sense of privacy. I laid the flowers on the table, and picked up a menu. &#034Let me, okay?&#034 she asked, reaching for the menu. I looked up, blinked, hesitated, and nodded, letting her take it. She ordered for us both, and I sat there, feeling a bit foolish. And a bit cosseted, protected, taken care of. There is an odd security that comes in total dependence. I think girls learn that when they're young. Most men never do. Maybe they don't want to. I wasn't sure I ...
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