Drumstick Grips の小説・ストーリー

I wrapped the neon-blue tape tightly around the shaft, creating a distinct, raised ridge exactly where his lower thumb should rest during a defensive line pass. "A tactile anchor," I murmured, passing the stick back to him. "When your vision fractures, you will not look at the puck to calculate the distance. You will slide your hand down until your thumb hits this ridge. The physical alignment of the stick will automatically adjust the blade three point five inches to the right, regardless of what your eyes are telling you." Jaxson gripped the stick, his large hand wrapping around the shaft. He slid his palm down until his thumb locked against the raised blue ridge. He looked down at his han

With a hair flip I laugh, and Maggie and I head off to stretch. Tonight we are working with the sticks from Tahtib. My sticks had a titanium core for strength, but to look at the art work etched into the sides one would think they were just decorations. Every individual had sticks made to fit their personality, and mine were covered with gymnasts and lightning bolts. I still loved to sketch storms, the more voracious the better. Only now I could just watch them on my phone to get inspired. Much to Dak's surprise I was able to conjure a blade on the end of one of one, turning this beautiful work of art into a lethal weapon. I took a few blows in the legs before I realized that crushes ca

Also an orgasm, which I needed just as desperately. He lay two wooden drumsticks on the arm of the couch well within my line of sight, followed by dreadlocks. Fuck, he meant to hurt me, and my disappointment vanished. I'd known nothing about drummers' implements until Luke. I would swear each one was designed for sadistic pleasure. The dreadlocks were small stainless steel wires braided together and attached to a handle. They were short, and Luke didn't need to work hard to make the pain they created excruciating.