How You Can Tell You Have Been Reading Too Much Sir Jeff.

- by Ray MacFairlaine.
- as submitted by author to the sjpg2001 yahoo group.

I live behind a busy church building that is used two or three times a day. Sometimes for services, yes, but usually for the daily free lunch, 4 times a week, the Scouts, 18 times a month at least, the AA meet there weekly and of course the choir meets to practice.

So my sidewalk is a busy sidewalk.

I see a young couple in love walking down my sidewalk. She is carrying a small package. They walk side by side until the walk narrows then she steps in front him. He reaches up to touch her hair, and WHAM.

I can tell I have been reading too much of Sir Jeff because it didn't bother me a bit that I saw it from this point of view:

She is carrying a picnic basket across the back of her shoulders. Her elbows are pulled straight back, forming the lower support for her basket, and the backs of her hands are resting lightly across the tops of her bare ass cheeks. A thick black strap of leather holds her elbows not quite touching but almost, then her arms hang straight down from there. Her wrists are cuffed in matching black, and clipped together with a single shiny steel clip.

She is wearing either knee-high black boots or knee-high black stockings and black strap-on high-heeled shoes.

Bells hang from her nipples, which are sticking straight out thanks to the dog collars that have been cinched tight around them, making them turn a bright purple and making them stick out pointing away from her nose, whichever direction she looked. If she could have been looking.

What happened was, an image from Sir Jeff's site super-imposed itself on my retinas as the woman crossed my point of view holding herself in the exact same posture, as in Sir Jeff's image.

It was just like if the anonymous young woman in front of me, was really wearing nipple bells and being guided along the sidewalk by the man holding a pair of long leather reins in his fist, tightly behind her mouth at the base of her neck where her pony tail started. DING DING DING it was as if I heard her nipple bells ringing, every footstep for the 15 yards or so I was watching her. I could not hear the THUD THUD THUD of her feet on my pavement but I could tell, because her nipple bells were jingling cheerfully, she must be stamping her feet down extra-hard with each step. A fine liesurely prancing step, I believe.

I admired the simplicity of her restraints, and noticed that her bridle did not need any blinkers or blinders because she was very securely blindfolded.

Then I imagined how she could be standing quietly stopped, totally nude at the side door of her car, still blindfolded, while her picnic basket was put into the front seat. Then the pony girl I was watching was guided and shoved, bitted and blindfolded and naked, until she crawled by herself onto the back seat of the car. She was pushed in until she was kneeling sideways across the seat with her face on the seat behind the driver and her ass straight up in the air to the open door she had crawled through. As I looked in through the open door at her bare ass, stuck up in the air, I could see clearly the thick ring through both pussy lips. And the tag hanging from there that read "Property of Gino".

Wow! Now THAT is too much Sir Jeff for the month!