About 15 years ago, when I was working at a club in the eastside of Cleveland known as The Executive’s Den (aka Ed’s, aka The Euclid Ballet), I
met Vilmos. And I’ll always remember meeting him because he was, unequivocally, the saddest-looking man I’d ever encountered. He never
smiled (and I’m one funny bitch as some of you reading this well know) and his eyes were continually brimming with suffering and indescribable
heartache. Really. That was his regular state of being. To look into his face was to know that his whole world was caving in right fucking now.
And it was. But that was years ago and Wilhelm is a happy man these days. Time heals all wounds, even the deep, deep poisonous scratch
marks left by cuntive ex-wives of the highest order. And all the while, through the years, Vilmos has kept in touch with me, periodically sending
me vanilla perfume and custom-made dresses direct from China. First following me from club to club and then to The Red Door and all my
subsequent studios. While Vilmos never professed the slightest interest in BDSM during my stripping days, once I switched over to the darkside,
he began to confess certain memories and fantasies. Because Vilmos loves to write (he has a gift for language and characters) and especially
loves writing erotica, he wrote this story (See The Very First Fantasy) for me regarding his earliest “BDSM” daydream.
So anyway, Vilmos recently began an erotic internet-based relationship with a woman from his past.
These are the actual letters from this exchange.
--Miranda Rider
Here's a sample ...
Letter 1#: To Miranda, from Vilmos
Miranda,
My old lover Lydia in Florida is so completely into you. I'm afraid that she may burst before we can get her up to OH to see you. I've been teasing
the shit out of her with pictures of Miranda and your world. I suggested "Strap on Sunday" as an appetizer and she is now starving for the full
course banquet. She has my access to your site. I'm bad and I'm loving it!
The poor dear wants your huge cock in her ass I'm afraid. I'll happily assist you in restraining her while you tease her mercilessly. I suppose I
could talk trash to her while utilizing yet another vibrating phallus to prove that "displaced persons" is not necessarily the first thing that pops to
mind when the letters D&P are seen together ...
met Vilmos. And I’ll always remember meeting him because he was, unequivocally, the saddest-looking man I’d ever encountered. He never
smiled (and I’m one funny bitch as some of you reading this well know) and his eyes were continually brimming with suffering and indescribable
heartache. Really. That was his regular state of being. To look into his face was to know that his whole world was caving in right fucking now.
And it was. But that was years ago and Wilhelm is a happy man these days. Time heals all wounds, even the deep, deep poisonous scratch
marks left by cuntive ex-wives of the highest order. And all the while, through the years, Vilmos has kept in touch with me, periodically sending
me vanilla perfume and custom-made dresses direct from China. First following me from club to club and then to The Red Door and all my
subsequent studios. While Vilmos never professed the slightest interest in BDSM during my stripping days, once I switched over to the darkside,
he began to confess certain memories and fantasies. Because Vilmos loves to write (he has a gift for language and characters) and especially
loves writing erotica, he wrote this story (See The Very First Fantasy) for me regarding his earliest “BDSM” daydream.
So anyway, Vilmos recently began an erotic internet-based relationship with a woman from his past.
These are the actual letters from this exchange.
--Miranda Rider
Here's a sample ...
Letter 1#: To Miranda, from Vilmos
Miranda,
My old lover Lydia in Florida is so completely into you. I'm afraid that she may burst before we can get her up to OH to see you. I've been teasing
the shit out of her with pictures of Miranda and your world. I suggested "Strap on Sunday" as an appetizer and she is now starving for the full
course banquet. She has my access to your site. I'm bad and I'm loving it!
The poor dear wants your huge cock in her ass I'm afraid. I'll happily assist you in restraining her while you tease her mercilessly. I suppose I
could talk trash to her while utilizing yet another vibrating phallus to prove that "displaced persons" is not necessarily the first thing that pops to
mind when the letters D&P are seen together ...
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