Desire Unleashed: A Journey of Forbidden Fantasies and Unbridled Passion
Hi, I'm Katie, and this is written at the special request of my Mom's very good friend Frank.
Here is the task he set us for the weekend -- I want both of you to describe in detail your wildest,
most wanton fantasy. What makes you really wet? So wet, that only a slight touch takes you over the
orgasmic brink. This will be a secret shared among the three of us, so don't be bashful. Discuss it, but in
a competitive way, because I want both of you to know intimately that much about one another. If you
already have this knowledge, then, I want you both to be creative and tell me a new and different
fantasy -- something that may have been subliminal --that you have not dared think of
before...something so taboo you were afraid to entertain it as a thought. Remember, I find nothing
repulsive, since I firmly believe the mind is our most sensitive and pleasurable erogenous zone.
Since I am the youngest, Mom let me tell you my special fantasy first, in my own words.
Something that really turns me on, and I mean seriously, is to be a fashion model in one of those new
season events where all the latest designs are shown for the first time to a very select audience, with
the fashion press reporting on it. All of the clothes are totally impractical, except for wearing to special
parties by the celebrities who want to make some kind of a wild statement, or just for their shock value.
I’m with half a dozen other models on a catwalk, but they are all skinny beanpoles with their bones
sticking out, you know the sort the media uses, whereas I’m a beautifully proportioned young girl. Every
outfit we’ve demonstrated so far has been either nearly see through, fitted very loosely so the audience
could see beneath the garment, or else so tight as to reveal even my goose bumps. When I walk out for
my fourth parade along the runway there is a change in the audience somehow, though it’s difficult to
see with the floodlights, but I can hear them passing comments about my tits as they jiggle beneath my
blouse.
Then as I turn at THE END
Here is the task he set us for the weekend -- I want both of you to describe in detail your wildest,
most wanton fantasy. What makes you really wet? So wet, that only a slight touch takes you over the
orgasmic brink. This will be a secret shared among the three of us, so don't be bashful. Discuss it, but in
a competitive way, because I want both of you to know intimately that much about one another. If you
already have this knowledge, then, I want you both to be creative and tell me a new and different
fantasy -- something that may have been subliminal --that you have not dared think of
before...something so taboo you were afraid to entertain it as a thought. Remember, I find nothing
repulsive, since I firmly believe the mind is our most sensitive and pleasurable erogenous zone.
Since I am the youngest, Mom let me tell you my special fantasy first, in my own words.
Something that really turns me on, and I mean seriously, is to be a fashion model in one of those new
season events where all the latest designs are shown for the first time to a very select audience, with
the fashion press reporting on it. All of the clothes are totally impractical, except for wearing to special
parties by the celebrities who want to make some kind of a wild statement, or just for their shock value.
I’m with half a dozen other models on a catwalk, but they are all skinny beanpoles with their bones
sticking out, you know the sort the media uses, whereas I’m a beautifully proportioned young girl. Every
outfit we’ve demonstrated so far has been either nearly see through, fitted very loosely so the audience
could see beneath the garment, or else so tight as to reveal even my goose bumps. When I walk out for
my fourth parade along the runway there is a change in the audience somehow, though it’s difficult to
see with the floodlights, but I can hear them passing comments about my tits as they jiggle beneath my
blouse.
Then as I turn at THE END
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