Did you wear the tights? I love a man in tights. Show me. Take off your shoes. And your pants. Oh. Purple. Very colorful. I love the way they cling to you. Your feet. Your legs. Your thighs. No. Leave the shirt on. Just unbutton it. Open it. I want to see your chest and stomach. Oh. Look at your cock. Straining against the fabric. Is my being turned on? Turning you on? Or do you just like wearing those tights? Here. In the middle of nowhere. Where anything can happen. Pack up your shirt. And turn around for me. That's it. I want to see that perfect ass of yours. I love the way the fabric molds to you. So stretchy. And clingy. And tight. You know. And that shirt. And those purple tights. You look like a little pirate. Or a prince. Yes. A pretty prince. What are you doing here, my prince? Where you hunt. Were you hunting? Did you get lost only to find me? Your fair maiden. Here in the deep, damp woods. I see the look in your eyes, my prince. I see that hard, handsome cock. Pressing against your tights. I know what you want. I know what you intend to take from me. You'll take it. Because you're a prince. And a lord. And a man. And you think it's your right. Well, you'll have to catch me first. This way, prince. Here I am. No. I know these woods. I know every path. Every turn. Of every trail. I'm just ahead of you. By those pines. I'm not? Then I must be behind you. No? Perhaps I'm down in the dale. Where the shadows are green and thick. Where secret things happen. Are you lost again? My purple prince. My stocking-footed boy. Come into the clearing at the bottom of the dale. You'll find me on the far side. I won't run anymore. You see. Here I am. As promised. If you can touch me. Kiss me. You can have me. Oh yes. The ground is damp down there. Damp as your thoughts. Damp as the head of your cock. Damp and sticky. Sticky like the past. No. Don't back up. Come to me. The ground is firmer just ahead. I promise. I'm worth walking through a little wet sand, aren't I? Oh yes. I see your cock pulsing with the thought of having me. Come ahead. Just one. More. Step. Oh! Oh. My poor boy. My poor purple fitted prince. The ground isn't firmer, is it? It's actually quite soft. Like warm wax. Sticky like honey. And it has your feet. Your pretty little feet. You're stuck, aren't you? Like a bug and sap. If you were still wearing boots. You might have slipped out of them and escaped. But you're in your stocking feet. Stuck in those silly purple tights. Oh yes. Struggle. Squirm. Try to pull free. It won't do you any good, of course. Jump into the sands. Once they get their gooey, sticky grip on your feet. It's impossible to escape. You're trapped. My prince. Caught. Helpless. I told you I knew every turn of every trail. Every twist. And every trap. And I led you right to this one. To these soft and sucking sands. What's that? You're sinking. Of course you are. These sands are quick, my lord. And the deeper you sink. The tighter their grip becomes. Are you? Are you getting even harder? You are. I can see your cock throbbing through the fabric. Being stuck like that. Being helpless. It's exciting you. Oh my naughty prince. Oh no. You mustn't touch yourself. When stuck. When sinking. In a quicksand. You must remain perfectly still. Don't move. Don't even twitch. You see. You're not sinking as fast now. The sand is only up to your shins. Soft. And warm. And heavy. Can you feel the bottom? Oops. You sank a little deeper. You moved your feet, didn't you? Or at least tried to. Don't bother. Little man. There isn't any bottom. There's nothing beneath you. But fathoms of deep, sticky sand. Oh. It is turning you on. Being trapped. Being completely. Utterly helpless. It almost made you come. Didn't it? This must be agony for you. Sinking. Sliding. Slipping deeper into the ooze. Over your knees now. The mud on your thighs. Knowing if you come. Every thrust. Of your hips. Every quiver. Of your legs. Every spurt. Of your cock. Will murr. More deeply. Help you. Oh. My pretty prince. I led you here. I baited you into that bog. Why would I help you? Oh. The sand has reached your balls. It's sucking them in. Oozing around your hips. Devouring that tight, round ass of yours. Mm-mm. It's sliding up your cock. It must feel like your whole body is being sucked into a warm, wet mouth. The pressure of the tights. The pressure of the sand. The pressure against your cock. Climbing. Climbing. Covering the tip. Ooh. It's making me wet. I don't know how you can stand it. Please? Please what? Princes don't say please. They demand. They take. Please save you. Oh, my lord. I'm but a damsel who found herself in distress and then found a way to escape it. You, my stocking-footed fool, will not be so lucky. Is that panic I see building inside you? You're sinking deeper. Over your stomach. Your ribs. Up to your chest. The sand looking at your nipples like cat kisses. You're being so good. Not moving. Not coming. I wonder if I could make you. If I took off my dress. Like this. If I stood before you. Naked. And touched myself. Like this. This. And this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you wanted to sink into. Your cock. Into my cunt. Your cock buried deep and tight. Or was it my mouth that you wanted? Closing around you. All wet and warm. How deliciously ironic. You're being swallowed a different way. Swallowed whole. That's it. Raise your arms. Hold them as high as you can. As long as you can. As the sand oozes up over your shoulders. Up your neck. To touch your chin. If you move at all. Pretty boy. You'll sink away. So watch me. Watch me fuck myself. You're going to kill me at the same time I do. Watch me. Watch me. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come. Seeing you stuck. And scared. And helpless. Oh god. Oh god. Come with me. Come with me please. Oh come with me. Come. Yes. Yes like that. Oh come. Come. Oh my stocking footed prince. Stuck like a bug into amber. Just your nose and those big teary eyes. I guess we've played enough. Look what I have here. Hidden beneath this tree. A rope. Can you catch it? Don't miss. Oh good. Good boy. Make sure you have a tight grip. It'll take hours to pull yourself out. I'll be long gone. And thank you for wearing the tights. I love a man in tights.