Chans

The laundry basket sat patiently on the couch, tolerating the impatient glare Sarah kept giving it as she paced back and forth in her living room. Her bare feet made that soft padding sound she loved to hear, and it only heightened her anticipation of the clever game she devised for herself, a little self-bondage adventure she came up with about a week ago. The waiting was driving her crazy, giving her all the extra time she needed to over-think her technique and fret all the details she was sure was forgetting about. The apartment had that nice early morning chill she liked and it felt amplified by her lack of warm cover, clad only in a thin tank top and a pair of her skimpy running short, both in desperate need of washing. Sarah paced through the same short path and she could smell the waft of her sweat emanating from the clothes she worked out in, leaving a little trail of her musk that seemed to hang in the cold air. She knew in a little while she’d be sweating profusely from the intense session she had planned, a willing victim of her new idea, and all she wanted to do was end the waiting and start the craziness. ...