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I’m not a “game” person. Board games, word games, sexy games (think role play)…no thanks. Oh, I can and I will if the fun is in spending time with people I care about. But am I sitting around, counting down the minutes until someone pulls out a card game? Nope.
But I’m a player of games in a different way.
The pout when I don’t get what I want from John Brownstone. Will he give in or will he tease me? Or worse (better?) will he do something kinky and sadistic to remind me of my place?
The smirk I shoot his way when I say something snarky. What will he do? Is this the moment he throws his head back and laughs with delight? (A moment that makes me strangely proud?) Or will he say, “Babygirl…” in the warning tone that reminds me of his dominance but also leaves me chagrined and chastened?
The sway in my hips. It’s pure come hither, come get it, come take it…if you dare. And he dares, oh holy hell, does he dare.
The wiggle of my ass. Sometimes it’s followed by a pout and sometimes I grab his hand and place it on my butt. Okay, so maybe that’s not a game. That’s a demand for attention. But will he give me the warm security of a gentle palm or the sharp smack and reminder of who’s in charge? I’ll take either.
You know, the more I think about it, the more I’m realizing that I’m not the one playing games. He is. The power lies with him, and so does the reaction and the reward. As long as I get something I enjoy, I win. Game over.
Welcome to Wicked Wednesday! Right now, I’m getting ready to travel to the airport, get on a plane, and head to London for Eroticon! So today’s post is just a little something, and not at all sexy, but as always Marie’s prompt got my mind going. For something actually sexy, you know where to go!