WARNING! This blog contains material for adults only. If you are under the age of consent, please move on. If, on the other hand, you are curious/interested in writing/images of a carnal nature, please read on!

WARNING#2! themes of d/S, bdsm and other 'alternative' forms of sexuality may be present within this blog. All stories are FICTION, however, and - if immitation be the sincerest form of flattery - should only be attempted under the *strict* supervision of a trained professional...don't say you weren't warned. ;~>)

The Rhetorical Question

Copyright 2006 Dawn Wan D'Stylo. May not be copied without permission.

'If I died, would you marry her?'

His true feelings remained masked behind his surprise as he loosened himself from her embrace on their bed.

'What kind of question is that?' he asked, dropping his eyes from her piercing stare, coming to rest on the hickey he'd tattooed around her areola moments earlier.

'…never mind.' Her gaze travelled wistfully over his now peaceful cock, still glistening with her juices, and her ass twitched involuntarily.

'Do you love me?'

He smiled, meeting her gaze once again. 'I'll always love you.'

The smile she returned quivered with uncertainty.

'Do you love her?'


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‘Well of course I'd like to stay and chew the fat Well of course I'd like to sit around and chat But someone's listening in’

~Radiohead, ‘Life in a Glass House’, Amnesiac

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