My slut was anxiously excited when I got home, she's like an excited and adoring school girl when I motivate this mood, and it's really a great turn on for me. It's probably not "professional" of me as a writer to say that thinking of my Katharina like that has stirred a reaction in my cock, which is stiffly pressing somewhat urgently against my slacks, but that's what the simple memory of her mood inspires.
As the night progressed, we relaxed together casually, and I noticed that she was reading her assignment rather diligently. Katharina's always one to try and please her Master, but I could see she was getting a little kick out of the stories herself. Occasionally she'd retire to the bed where I was sitting with my laptop working, and we'd break to discuss a specific aspect or two of the story she'd just read.
The verdict was exactly as I'd expected, she found the stories, despite their "taboo" subject matter, to be mostly innocent, and for the most part even a bit sexy. My slut needed no reminding about the rest of her assignment, and before bed that evening (long before I'd expected completion) I was proudly informed that her task was finished.
Here's my Katharina's completed assignment, as posted as a comment at Linda Sue's Diary:
My experience happened to be with my favorite cousin who is about 2 years older than I. We had grown close, as we were within a 20 minute drive during our childhood days. Then my family moved 800 miles away and we saw each other less frequently.
We always picked right up where we’d left off.
As time moved along we entered the stage of hormones and lusty desire. He was a good-looker and I wasn’t bad either- German born , blond, blue eyes, and fair complexion that glowed from a good life living on a farm. When they came to visit, we had long conversations and teased our younger siblings and played their games with them.
Clearly a favorite game was tag, or shadow-tag if it was at night.
Another was hide and seek. The immense opportunities abounded with rows of granaries, barns, machine shops and other buildings. The roadside ditches and nearby fields were not out of limits, although it was required that we never injure the plants to reduce harvest was a rule that was carefully followed by all.
This late afternoon we got roped in to play hide and seek. We walked together to the far back part of the yard down a dusty trail that led along the side of the cows summer pasture. He said he had an idea. He skipped up and over the heads of waist high wheat onto a tire track a few feet over a path made by a tractor to perhaps spray against grasshoppers earlier that season. I followed his lead and we went another 500 yards or so, and then he suddenly veered left and sat down and motioned for me to sit with him.
Perfect! It was perfect- it got us away from those pesky little kids and we were out of sight. He shifted his body and with a twinkle in his eye he stretched out flat on his belly and drew me with him. It was so quiet. So peaceful. All there was to hear was the rustling of the wheat and occasionally the buzzing of a lone fly, A song from the meadowlark singing her song “don’t drink your tea too hot!”
We laid there quietly, side by side. He had kept his wonderful tanned and strong arm around my shoulders as we laid there. I became aware that his fingers were curled just touching me. He began to stroke very gently and gradually moved his hand to where he could cradle my breast. It was delicious, and send warmth to my vagina. I laid still hoping to make the feeling last. I think he was probably thinking the same or wondering how this happened but we laid that way for quite some time until the sell was broken by being discovered by a sibling seeker.
It was a simple, almost innocent moment but the memory of the intensity of feeling and emotions fueled by pure passion and lust have been fondly tucked away and likely inspired masturbation later.
I can certainly confirm that Katharina's still a "looker", with her bright blue eyes and pale creamy complexion. They say that youth is wasted on the young, but there's a special place for memories of those earlier times, when we were younger, but not wiser . . .
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