

How would you serve me, I wonder?
Would you gaze through my wishlist, searching for the perfect treat, the perfect thing to crack a smile over my painted lips?
Would you graze your fingertips across the cool, silk soft texture of my ivory skin, pushing the pads of your hands along the stressed muscles?
Would you succumb to my lust, dipping your mouth between the thick pillars of my thighs?
How would you serve me? How will you be of use?