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Once again, three of my friends have birthdays on the same day; what're the odds? So, many happy returns of the day to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soft_princess, cherryicee and mariposa1962. I hope you all have wonderful birthdays ::many hugs and smooches::
I'm recovering from the twin embarrassments of discovering yesterday, thanks to the eagle eyes oflovesbitca that when I archived Secretary, I missed out three whole chapters in part three. The weird thing? It still made sort of sense ;-) But there was some of my favourite smut missing which would never do, including this bit which I adore because I can just hear her saying it, overiding all his concerns,
"And I slid right down on it and then you pulled out and you fucked me over the desk, Wes. You fucked me over the desk. I don't give a fuck if it hurts, cause it's a good kind of hurt, I want you to fuck me over the desk."
Really, she can't say it any plainer than that and for one second, she wonders if she's over-stepped the mark. Been too pushy. Too domineering but then she hears the rasp of his zipper… ::melts::
And zippers are sort of what the second OMG, what did I do? is about. I started to iron my navy trousers and discovered a huge rent down the seam at the back. These were the trousers I'd worn to do my library volunteering and go with L to the speech therapist in.
I do seem to recall a faint tearing noise but when? And did I dare try them on to see just how much of my bottom had been on display? Was ignorance bliss?
I finally cracked (hah, hah) and tried them on and implored David to tell me if he could see vast amounts of my backside. The conclusion was, not unless I bent over. What, as I would when I was tidying the shelves, you mean? The only thing saving me from expiring from the shame is the fact that when I kneel to do that, I'm in an aisle and it's impossible for anyone to be behind me.
They're in the bin now and my blush is fading slightly.
soft_princess, cherryicee and mariposa1962. I hope you all have wonderful birthdays ::many hugs and smooches::I'm recovering from the twin embarrassments of discovering yesterday, thanks to the eagle eyes of
lovesbitca that when I archived Secretary, I missed out three whole chapters in part three. The weird thing? It still made sort of sense ;-) But there was some of my favourite smut missing which would never do, including this bit which I adore because I can just hear her saying it, overiding all his concerns,"And I slid right down on it and then you pulled out and you fucked me over the desk, Wes. You fucked me over the desk. I don't give a fuck if it hurts, cause it's a good kind of hurt, I want you to fuck me over the desk."
Really, she can't say it any plainer than that and for one second, she wonders if she's over-stepped the mark. Been too pushy. Too domineering but then she hears the rasp of his zipper… ::melts::
And zippers are sort of what the second OMG, what did I do? is about. I started to iron my navy trousers and discovered a huge rent down the seam at the back. These were the trousers I'd worn to do my library volunteering and go with L to the speech therapist in.
I do seem to recall a faint tearing noise but when? And did I dare try them on to see just how much of my bottom had been on display? Was ignorance bliss?
I finally cracked (hah, hah) and tried them on and implored David to tell me if he could see vast amounts of my backside. The conclusion was, not unless I bent over. What, as I would when I was tidying the shelves, you mean? The only thing saving me from expiring from the shame is the fact that when I kneel to do that, I'm in an aisle and it's impossible for anyone to be behind me.
They're in the bin now and my blush is fading slightly.