When you invite me on a hike, I know roughly what is likely to happen. We are not together, but usually, when we meet up, we get together in the carnal sense, because we enjoy it. Friends with benefits, as people call it. You are a horny bastard, and see no reason to keep your hands off me, since I grant you permissive access rights. It's one of the things I like about you. Another thing I like, or perhaps admire, is your...

I have made a new dress, especially for our date. It is in a shiny stiff fabric, moss green, one of my best colours, with a pencil skirt cut just above the knee. It is nipped in at the waist, and has gathers under the bust. It is too smart for the pub, really, but I wanted to impress you. It is too tight to wear a bra underneath, and I have to breathe in to sit down. The heavy fabric mostly disguises my nipples, but not q...

I want you to teach me a lesson with your belt. I want you to bend me over the bed, Lift my dress, Pull down my knickers, Take off your belt, And thwack me with it. And then I want you to do it again. And again, And again, Until my slutty, Bare, Bottom Is sore. And then, I want you to make me thank you for it.

You tell me what knickers to wear. It's a way of having control from a distance, even though we can't meet. I send pictures of the more exciting pairs I own, so you can choose. The rest are basic cotton briefs; I don't bother showing you these. Each morning you text me your choice, and I send a photograph of me wearing them. Sometimes you won't let me wear any. I could change afterwards, but we both know I won't. I wash t...

You manoeuvre through the black-clad crowd to stand next to me at the bar and, straight away, turn to me to ask why I always stare at you. Ah fuck, I think, he's noticed. And there was me thinking I'd been subtle. I have seen you a few times before, but only ever here at this goth night, and I suppose I have been staring, although I've tried not to make it obvious. There's something about you that I find incredibly attrac...