Der geheime Garten. 2017.

I open my eyes. My glassy gaze realizes his hand coming out of the dark in the mirror,
closing the zipper in my back very slowly and a drop of sweat dying away on the green golden latex.
My heart beats. The time has come. We were waiting a long, long time for this.

Smooth light cones of nameless street lights hurry by. The warm summer wind caresses my face.
By and by my tension gives way to the easiness meeting my friends and my sweethearts soon. My hands seeking for the waver-thin latex,
want to desire, want to feel, want to play, want to be queen and you my slave of lust.

The car stops and I get out. I step over the cooling grass beyond soft moving palm leaves.
Somewhere a fountain is splattering faintly and Indian flute music paired with soft beats forming a smooth carpet,
which presents a crowning achievement together with the colourful light paint midst this garden.

Sinful shining latex which reminds of unknow blossoms from a distant universe,
severe leather from noble dominions and their studs and all the children of the night in their fanciful,
frivolous apparel refines my senses and introduce me more and more into the night.

Low giggling Maikos and Geishas traipsing in extremely thin silk kimonos by and seduce me immediately behind the
paper walls with their shadow play of artful lacing. I quickly smooth my latex, pace into the glass hall,
where strikes of lightning and deep basses snatch me from my dreams and welcomes me in the lustful reality. It has started…

 

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