Vintage Memory
by: Measha Stone

Sharon was holding a photograph: a woman sitting provocatively with her hands bound above her head. She was dressed in a black corset, pushing her naked breasts upward towards the photographer.

“I bet he used that crop on her nipples,” her lover reached around her and gave her nipples a slight pinch. “I bet she loved it. Look at the wanting in her eyes; she’s begging him to use it on her,” he cupped her breasts. “See how her hands are bound, that is how I’d like to prop you on our kitchen table,” he nuzzled her ear, biting her lightly. He paused when she gave no reaction. “What’s wrong?” he questioned; she continued to stare at the aged photograph.

“It’s my mother,” she whispered and a tear slipped down her cheek.

I’ll be honest..I’m not happy with this entry but I could not get this scenario out of my head last night so I decided to put it up anyway. At least it’s out of my head now.

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