Thighs

Clamped together and a look of stubborn determination on your face.

Wrists tied behind your back.

I start to pour the hot oil down your chest and over the tops of your clenched thighs - all very slippery and shiny, and I stroke down your chest with my palms, pinching the nipples on the way down.

You clench tighter and grind your teeth.

Sliding hands down the body, smooth, silky oil, slipping from under my fingers.

Still trying to clamp your thighs tight, the oil slides between them.

One hand travels up your neck and pulls your hair backwards.

The other wriggles its way between your trembling, slippy, shiny thighs and I laugh loudly as I can't tell the difference between the oil and your own juice and I don't care.