Melolagnia: There's No Sadist Like Time...

     You prefer everything slow.  Your briefs slide down your hips like molasses.  Your shirt creeps up your torso like the sunrise over the horizon.  The fabric slipping across your skin makes you hiss and suck your teeth.  Using your sleeves to bind your wrists, I softly bark in your ear, "Keep your hands up."
     As if you really know the answer, you arms remained stretched toward the ceiling.  My kisses crawl down your arms...your armpits...your sensitive sides.  My strong grip squeezes your ass...muscles in your back...your sensitive nipples.
     Your underwear never makes it past your knees.  Crouching before you, I smile at the erection now twitching towards my chin.  If only it had a voice of its own.  Running my hands from your shaking knees, up your thighs to your warm waist, I stand to my feet.  A small whimper escapes your lips; our cocks butting heads is the only time it has been touched.  Poor baby.

Are you reconsidering your preference?
As my lips remain closed at the tip of your cock?
 There's no sadist like time...
Patience can spoil from virtue to sin...

Are you sure, you like things slow?
I have all day...


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