Little religious girlie dreams of better days...

When I was a young girl, I was a part of a very restrictive religion that had fixed and firm limited positions about the topics of women, sexuality and the rights to freedom. This is not an uncommon story amongst erotica writers.

I was blessed though.

In my little pure white and pale blue room, I had some small but oh so meaningful treasures.

I smuggled into my room the Baroness Series of books.

I was also, for some very strange reason, allowed to listen to Queen.

Freddy Mercury was there for me in the dark. He was safe (gay) but easily the sexiest creature I had ever laid eyes on in my life. I had several posters of him in my bedroom - a wild hungry man he seemed to me. I would dream that he would come to lfie, stare at me from the hole in the wall poster where he lived, and with THAT look - you know the one... he always gets it when he's worked up - he'd curl his arms around the frame and step out into the romm, called by the warmth of my bed and the moisture between my legs.

He inspired my girlie wet dreams for years. And I still thank him for it.