I love myself. The perfect man, perfectly Man, so very perfectly manly. I instinctively pull my long, thin fingers back, arching my hands so that only my upper palms rub my hard nipples as I smooth the silk across my chest. Oma leaves me there. “Miss Emily… It’s great to see you!” as I turn, he gives courteous greeting to Oma, but his eyes barely leave me for her. “No, that is right, just enough to pull the fabric above tight but not so much as to make you uncomfortable, my dear.”
Oma takes my left hand in hers and leads me to the bed. It is one of those decadent feelings… I gather the cotton together with the cloth belt, buckling it into its delicate silver. It is the most perfect of days. My heart skips a beat. She rises, a broad smile playing upon her lovely, worn cheeks. I slip the ends of the towel between my legs, drying my hairless taint, my cheeks, and the cleft between them.
