I’d like to think I’m a fairly liberated woman. I enjoy sex, I read and write erotica, and I’m definately not afraid to talk about it. But when it comes to writing down certain ‘darker’ fantasies, I get a bit gun-shy.
Like walking down a hallway after a late night at work, and being dragged into an unlit room, rough hands throwing you on the floor and holding you down, hearing mocking, very familiar voices as hands pull up your skirt, and pull down your pantyhose, rough hands running up your thighs and twisting your breasts…
I suppose we’ll just label me a repressed pervert.