pinup!...
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Posted:Dec 6, 2011 6:04 am
Last Updated:Dec 30, 2015 12:37 pm
22744 Views
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Pinup...
She is an American expat who lives in the Land of the Rising Sun.
Yes, we are talking about Japan. Yes, the very country that caused me some agony in my previous post a brave guy... lol...
She is the very lovely JN . JN63JPN is also very creative.. and very generous. She has designed Senior Sizzle's New Year calendar featuring some of the most esteemed members of blogville... All in various stages of undress! You can see it in all its glory:
2012 Calendar is Done
I'm sure especially those of you participating in Half Nekkid Wednesdays will enjoy it even more.
She offered to do a pinup for me which I am happy to post here.
Thank you so much JN. Thank you for doing this for me. Thank you for doing this calendar for all of us. It is a pleasure to have you in our midst.
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20
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a brave guy...
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Posted:Dec 3, 2011 8:48 pm
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2012 3:33 pm
26415 Views
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a brave guy...
I met her on a ship. On a typical Greek hot summer day. One of those long summers of our youth... We were both on our way to Athens from Sifnos, an island in the Aegean Sea. I was 17. She was 22. Danish. Not very tall. Nor too blond for that matter. After a month of sunbathing, I think my hair was in fact lighter than hers. But she had the wicked grin that totally caught my eye. We will call her Sunny. Sunny Feelgoodjanssen.
I just saw her sipping a drink. I smiled. I said "Hi". Very original, I know... But she smiled back. "Hi", she answered back. So I approached. Sat near her at the bar. We started talking about everything. Well, almost everything. But we talked about all the things we liked. Music. Movies. Traveling. Swiming, sunbathing, dancing. And by the end of the trip we were friends. Even though she was 5 years older. And for my part, I was determined to show her that I was more than what I really was: a high school . No. I was a man. And I could do what any 22-year-old could do!... Yep. I would hold my own.
She was going to spend a week in Athens. Alone. Which was music in my ears. Athens was my home town. I could show her around. All the cool places. All the sights. All the night life.
"Do you have a place to stay?", I asked casually as we were getting off the ship.
"No", she answered. "Why? Do you have any suggestions?"
"As a matter of fact I do", I said trying to act as cool as possible. "There is a small hotel not far from my home".
"Perfect, let's check it out", she replied.
During the next few days we became inseparable. She was of course far more experienced. Yet she always made me feel at ease. Perhaps because she appreciated my effort to step up my 'game'. To be mature. Which I probably was. Perhaps because she liked all the attention I was paying her. Perhaps because she enjoyed looking at herself through my eyes... Eyes admiring this exotic creature who had fallen from the skies to brighten my summer vacation. Perhaps because she was growing fond of this suntanned Greek who was trying to act her age, not his. Perhaps because even though I couldn't offer her all the luxuries that older men could give her, I was so enthusiastic about whatever little I could give her.
Halfway through her stay she looked at me with 'that' look. The look she always gave me when she didn't know how I would react to her suggestion. "You know, I like Greek food", she started, "but I've had as much moussaka and stuffed tomatoes as a girl can". "OK", I said cautiously. She continued,"There is this little Japanese restaurant around the corner. I just saw it".
"If that's what you want, then that's what we will do", I announced. A phrase that I used quite often when with her, as it turned out. And then it hit me. I had never been to any Japanese restaurants. Ever. In fact I knew very little about Japan, let alone japanese food. What did these people eat? I had no idea. But of course, I couldn't admit to that. I had risen to every challenge she presented me with, I wasn't going to fall short on that one. I was young, yes, but cosmopolitan!
A few minutes later we were entering the garden of the Japanese restaurant. It was a nice enough place. Quiet. With polite waiters. In fact polite enough to ask whether we want chopsticks or forks. Sunny looked at me. And gave me a break. "Forks", she said. Had she gone the other way, my entire facade would have collapsed.
The menus were just as polite as the waiters. They were not only written in English but they offered an explanation of each item. I ordered a dish that had chicken and rice and corn and a raw egg. Then the waiter asked whether we wanted some sake to go with our food. "Yes". He produced that wonderful china with the alcoholic beverage. As he served us the sake, he made a small noise and asked, "Would you care for some catsoup before your meal?"...
"Of course", Sunny replied and looked at me. I smiled. Then panicked...
What??... Catsoup?... Surely, they didn't mean...
Anyone who has ever been to Athens knows that there are a lot of stray little kittens... some of them were even running around the garden of the Japanese restaurant. In my horrified eyes I could see a Japanese cook chasing them with a long japanese sword. I took a big gulp of sake. The shock of the drink to my throat did me good. I was as determined as ever to maintain my composure.
I smiled again. And continued the conversation with Sunny as if I hadn't noticed the last words exchanged between her and Mr. Polite Japanese Waiter. Who soon after returned with two bowls of soup. Oh boy... I took one more big gulp of sake... hoping it would give me courage. It did.
The soup was clear but yellowish in color... somewhat greasy... with some tiny pieces of meat floating in it. I stalled. Watched Sunny as she slowly brought the spoon to her mouth. "Aren't you going to eat your soup?", she asked me, the faintest grin noticeable on her lips. "It's still a little too hot", I explained as I stirred it with my spoon. Partly in an effort to discover what was in it! I just stirred and stirred. Finally I took a deep breath and rationalised. I had no idea what the Japanese did... what their food habits were... and whether these included small furry pets. But I knew Sunny. And if this wonderful woman was eating catsoup then I would trust her and eat it too.
I took a spoonful under her watchful eye. It had a vaguely familiar taste. I took a second spponful, then a third. Halfway through my bowl I decided it was enough. "Aren't you going to finish your soup?", she asked almost teasingly. I grinned. "I am saving my apetite for later", I said and winked at her. She burst out laughing.
Sunny was still laughing when Mr. Polite Waiter came to us with the main course. Never have I been so relieved at the sight of a chicken dish! I buried my fork in it with the happiness of a person who finally knows what he is eating. The rest of the meal was filled with more pleasant conversation, more laughs, more good times.
(Many weeks later I figured out that what I had just had was soup made from catfish. And a huge burden was lifted from within me. But at the time I was still living with the agony.)
As we were exiting the restaurant Sunny squeezed my hand. "Hey", she said and gave me a little kiss. "You are a pretty brave guy", she whispered in my ear. I just lowered my head and looked towards the ground. And blushed a very deep shade of red.
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25
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tell me...
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Posted:Dec 2, 2011 3:44 am
Last Updated:Jan 18, 2018 1:50 pm
23688 Views
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Tell me...
I... want you back... again
I... want your love... again
I know you find it hard... to reason with me
But this time it's different, darling you'll see
"Tell me"
The Rolling Stones
Tell me. Come on. Tell me that you want to do it. That you want to touch me. Down there. That you want to put your hand inside my jeans. Feel me. Tell me that you want to unbuckle my belt. Slide down my zipper. Tell me that you want to pull down my pants. And touch me. Feel my skin stretching as I get harder.
Tell me that you want to take me in your mouth. Slowly. Your tongue running up and down my length. Your lips grazing against the smoothness of the purple head. Then finally taking me in. Tell me that you want to feel me grow inside your mouth. That you want to feel my every vein... That you want to feel my heartbeat on your tongue.
Tell me that you want to close your fingers around the base of my shaft. That you want to take them up. And then down. Your lips matching their movement. Tell me that you want to feel my fingers. Caressing your hair. Ever so gently.
Tell me that you want to hear my moans. My whispers. My cries. That you want to listen to my voice... asking you to please... please don't stop... don't fucking stop what you are doing.
Tell me that you want to feel my knees becoming weak... knowing what will happen. Tell me that you want to hear my breathing become heavier and heavier... warning you of my approaching orgasm.
Tell me that you want my cum to flood your mouth. Tell me that you want to swallow me. Down to the last drop.
Oh yes. Yes! Tell me that you want to look up. Right into my eyes. And see me in total satisfaction. In utter bliss for being in you. Tell me that you want to see the ecstasy in my eyes as you slowly let me off your mouth. And come up to kiss me.
Tell me.
Because there is nothing I would want more right now.
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14
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three questions...
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Posted:Nov 30, 2011 1:53 am
Last Updated:Apr 6, 2016 1:10 pm
25695 Views
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Three questions...
A very simple little post. With three questions for you.
Suppose you were to meet me.
(and yes, let's assume you would want to!)
Where would you like to meet me?
What would be the first thing you would tell me when you saw me?
What would be the last thing you told me before we said goodbye?
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Do it!...
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Posted:Nov 27, 2011 12:08 pm
Last Updated:Mar 11, 2015 6:19 pm
24154 Views
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Do it!...
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day
"Wild horses"
The Rolling Stones
I looked her straight in the eye. From across the room. She looked back. The shadow of a smile painted on her lips.
I got up. Walked towards her. She stayed there. Motionless. I leaned over. My face close to hers. Whispered. And kissed her lips... "Yes", she finally spoke. "Do it".
I thrust my tongue in her mouth.
My hand moved down her torso. My palm pressing against her tummy. I went inside her jeans. Inside her soft panties. And let my hand rest there. Pressing against her skin for a while.
She grabbed the back of my neck. Her fiery eyes on mine. "I said yes", she repeated. I smiled.
My middle finger found her clit. Touched it ever so gently. Then began running very small circles around it. Slowly. Very slowly. Putting just enough pressure to be felt. But not more. I continued the circular motions for a while... then eventually started rubbing her up and down... and up and down her pussy lips... tracing their length... then finally sliding in... and going in and out of her... just as slowly... just as tenderly.
I placed my thumb on her clit while my middle finger was inside her. And rubbed it. Then I started moving my whole hand in a circular movement... my thumb going around her clit... my middle finger going round and round inside of her.
Round and round I went... never too fast, never too hard but never letting go. I kept going. Until I felt her first twitch. Her first tremor... then finally her languid explosion washing all over her body... her hand hanging on to my neck... her lips half-open whispering my name... until her fluids were quietly flowing out of her.
I kissed her passionately. Took out my cock. And spread her wetness all over it.
"Yes", I said as she took it in her mouth and licked it clean...
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one more glass of lemonade?...
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Posted:Nov 24, 2011 4:58 am
Last Updated:Apr 9, 2018 1:42 am
28199 Views
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One more glass of lemonade?...
And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson,
Jesus loves you more than you will know.
God bless you, please Mrs. Robinson.
Heaven holds a place for those who pray,
Hey, hey, hey
"Mrs. Robinson"
Simon & Garfunkel
Jimmy had just turned 17... He had lived in the same neighborhood all his life. It was a quiet place. Typically suburban. Streets lined with trees. Front yards with nicely trimmed lawns and colorful flowerbeds. He knew every house. Ever since his first paper route. Jimmy was old enough to drive now but he was still riding his bike... saving money to buy a car... any car. He was working every job he could... bussing tables at the local restaurant... mowing lawns... running errands. Jimmy wanted a car. Not just for freedom of mobility... A car to him symbolized independence.
Jimmy had recently met Charlie Richardson, the new in town. Charlie had just transferred to the school. He was the basketball star. He wasn't too tall but he was fast as lightning and accurate as a neurosurgeon. He also had a very hot mom. Whenever Jimmy went to Charlie's house he couldn't keep his eyes off Mrs. Richardson. Her ample breasts. Her long auburn hair. Her smile. And her oh-so-sexy voice whenever she announced that she asked them whether they wanted some more lemonade...
Jimmy rode his bike to Charlie's house. They were going to study together... for a science quiz. It was an unbearably hot day. And Jimmy's mind was anywhere but on that quiz. He felt a little horny. The hot sun always had that effect on him. He left his bike in the back yard. And knocked on the kitchen door. Like he always did. Mrs. Richardson was there alone. Wearing a light blue summer dress that revealed her impressive figure. She was pouring some lemonade in a glass half-filled with ice cubes.
"Hello, Mrs. Richardson", he said in his usual polite voice. "Jimmy... come on in", she answered... her voice ever so soft and melodic. Jimmy entered but saw no sign of Charlie. "Oh, Charlie just called. The basketball coach kept them for extra practice. Apparently he wasn't too happy with their last performance. He won't be home for at least another couple of hours". Jimmy was a little bummed. He had to ride his bike back home in the simmering sunlight now. Mrs. Richardson read his mind.
"You can wait for him here", she offered. "It's nice and cool in our living room... and you can start your studying session alone. Here, let me pour you some lemonade". Jimmy smiled and thanked her. He was so thirsty. But as Mrs. Richardson bent over he caught a glimpse of her breasts. He froze. His gaze was just fixed. He stood there silent, trying to bring the glass with the lemonade to his lips without spilling it all over him. Her voice pierced his ears...
"Jimmy!"... she was full of mischief now... "Jimmy!", she said again. He didn't say anything... but followed her eyes... which were directed to his crotch! Jimmy was stunned. He had the biggest erection ever. His cock was stretching the fabric of his shorts... and the tip of him was all but exposed. He turned fifteen shades of red. He took a huge gulp of lemonade. Hoping it would cool him off. It didn't. "I... I... I am so sorry", he muttered and tried to leave. But Mrs. Richardson was too quick. She grabbed him by the hand. "No. Stay", she said... her voice full of authority now. "And don't apologize. There is nothing wrong with that. There is absolutely nothing wrong".
"But Mrs. Richardson", Jimmy started to say. Her finger silenced his lips. "Under the circumstances you must call me Vicky", she said playfully. Jimmy couldn't help but smile. She grabbed him by the back of the neck. And kissed him. Oh my... "Can this really be happening?", he thought to himself. But his silent question was answered instantly. Vicky's hand was now grabbing his cock fully. She was stroking him over his shorts. God, it felt good. He had fantasized about it many times. But never in his wildest dreams did he think this moment would come. Her hand pulled down the zipper. Brought his cock out. And continued to stroke. Jimmy thought he would burst. And then... and then... Vicky sat on one of the kitchen chairs. And slowly took his cock in her mouth. Jimmy gasped. He tried to say something. He couldn't. Her mouth was a wet dream. Her tongue was slowly going up and down his shaft, her lips tenderly engulfing him. He started shaking.
"I... I am going to...", he never finished the sentence. He started coming. Violent eruptions of cum bursting through his cock. An orgasm far stronger than anyone he had ever had. Vicky was still on that chair. Her eyes closed. Her lips still tight around his cock. Swallowing hungrily. Happily. He closed his eyes... And finally breathed again. His face was still flushed. His cheeks redder than ever. And his cock just as hard.
Vicky finally gave his dick a quick little kiss and playfully let it slip out of her mouth. "Come with me", she finally said, a satisfied smile on her lips. She led him to the living room. Sat him on the couch. And continued stroking his cock. Jimmy took a better look at her. She was just radiant. The sexiest woman he had ever laid his eyes on. And she was so self-assured. There was no hesitation about her. She knew exactly what she was doing. Her touch excited him. Her sweet perfume drove him insane. Vicky kissed him again. "Relax", she said... "Do you like what I am doing?"... "God, yes", his answer came out of his lips before he had any time to think. There was nothing else on his mind now. He was just following Vicky down that new-found path to unspeakable pleasure. Now was not the time to ask questions.
Vicky straddled him. Her summer dress had come off by now. And Jimmy couldn't believe how great she looked. She brought his cock between her legs. Teased the tip of her clit with it. Then slowly took it between her pussy lips. And let it slide in. Inch by inch. Jimmy was wild now. Something inside him had finally awakened. He couldn't help himself. He grabbed Vicky by the neck. And kissed her passionately. The fire within him burning uncontrollably by now.
Vicky rocked her hips. Up and down she went... Her insides felt incredible. Soft. Warm. Moist. Squeezing him more and more. Guiding him to another orgasm. He took a deep breath... but before he could do anything, Vicky's head collapsed on his shoulder. She bit the back of his neck to muffle a scream. Her body was trembling. Her pussy tightening around him... her inside muscles fully contracted. Her fluids flowing down on his cock... then trickling down his balls. Then finally her body relaxed... and she kissed his lips again. Jimmy couldn't stop it. He erupted again. His cock throbbing inside her pussy... his sperm flooding her. "Mmmm... that feels so good", her voice was deeper now... he had never heard her sound like this.
She stopped kissing him. Got up. Quickly moved her head between his legs. And proceeded to lick his cock and balls clean from all their combined juices. Jimmy thought he would pass out. But instead Vicky licked her lips and kissed him again. Jimmy smiled but he was still motionless. He didn't know ecstasy like this existed. It had all happened so fast... And yet a warm glow of happiness had spread through his entire body. He was relaxed. And more confident than ever.
Vicky got up. Put her summer dress back on. Fixed her hair with a swift motion of her hair. "You seem thirsty. Would you like one more glass of lemonade?", she asked, a coy smile never leaving her lips...
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ticklish...
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Posted:Nov 17, 2011 3:55 pm
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2012 3:27 pm
27466 Views
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Ticklish...
Are you ticklish? Not me. Well... except for one little area. My balls. Yes. You read well. My balls are the only part of my anatomy where I can be tickled. And yes. There is an explanation.
It goes back a long way. To a summer vacation. When I was 11 years old. Back when girls still had cooties.
My family and I were at a summer resort. One of these big hotels. Miles of beach. Lots of fields, sports courts, even an open air movie theater. We were there with a large group of people. All friends. All vacationing together. I was very happy. Swimming. Sunbathing. Playing soccer with my friends. One of the best vacations ever. Or so I thought.
Staying at the hotel with the group were two new friends of the group. Two girls. Half-Italian half-Greek in origin. Twins. Identical twins. 11 years old just like me. They spoke some Greek. They were pretty. And very mischievous. Of course, even though they had cooties, I was very polite to our new-comer friends. Just like I was to everyone else. Well...
One day they informed that they had come up with a new game. They called it badee-badee. OK. So how do you play this game?... One of them pinned me down. (and if you recall this is an age when girls start getting bigger than boys). The other started tickling my balls mercilessly. Oh my God. Talk about torture. They didn't do it in a nasty way. They would stop just in time. They would giggle to death. And yell "badee-badee"... And start over. That was the game... they would let me go...
Then they would run into me again. I would dash. They would chase me. They were skilled hunters. One would go to the left, one to the right, so eventually I'd be stuck between the two of them. One would tackle me. Literally. The other would sit on my chest. And her twin would start the tickling. On my balls. "Badee-badee"... That was the game for the next ten days. I never harbored any hard feelings for them. Nor did I retaliate in any way. I knew it was a game. They never overdid it, they knew ehen to stop. It was innocent. They were having fun. "Must be an Italian game", I thought to myself. But I was a little relieved to say goodbye to them when they finally left.
Back in Athens I told one of my cousins about it. She was 'old'. That is, she was about 20 years old! "They just kept tickling me... down there", I told her, "it was aweful". "You know what I think?", my cousin said. "What?", I asked. "They had a crush on you", she replied. "No way", I was adamant, "they bloody tortured me". "Yes, because they didn't know what else to do", she answered, "but they wanted to touch you, they wanted to hold you, they wanted to smell you and that was the only way they could do it". I still didn't believe her. "Why do you think they only did this to you? There were so many boys there... it was definitely a sign of affection", she persisted. I shot a glance at my cousin. And sounded almost British, "Affection?... Well, they had a very strange way of showing it"...
I never saw those girls again. Ever. I am guessing they live in Italy somewhere. But to this day, decades later, my balls are still ticklish.
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gatsby...
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Posted:Nov 13, 2011 6:54 pm
Last Updated:Nov 27, 2017 1:25 pm
30824 Views
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Gatsby...
sigh...
This is not a story I tell often. Definitely not one of my proudest moments. But I will share it with you.
We all have our vices, don't we?
And it's probably time I confessed to my sins... No, don't expect me to regale you with a case of murder... or even a smaller crime like a bank robbery. Nope. But I am about to make a complete fool of myself so please bear with me.
In a country with a whopping 70% of the population smoking, I am in the minority. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I am a very casual drinker.I don't gamble. And I am 100% faithful whenever I am in a monogamous relationship. But I do have what a friend of mine described as a 'shirt habit'. I collect shirts. I have more than I care to admit. Suffice it to say that I have a whole suitcase of shirts that I still haven't worn. And yet I still buy more. Silly? Perhaps.
It all started a long time ago.
When I was 13 years old I saw that movie with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow, "The Great Gatsby", after the novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, set in the 1920s. Gatsby (Redford) is in love with Daisy (Farrow). She dumps him to marry a rich man. Gatsby is shattered. He works and schemes and gains great wealth. He buys a huge mansion. Throws a big party and makes sure Daisy will attend. In a pivotal scene he takes Daisy to his room. Opens his closet. And shows his admittedly impressive shirt collection. To show off even more, he starts throwing his shirts in the air. Daisy is almost driven to tears. "I have never seen such beautiful shirts", she mutters, implicitly admitting her mistake not to marry Gatsby. Corny as all hell, I know... but, in my young eyes, it just pushed a button in me. My jaw had dropped. That scene stayed with me.
I had decided that this was the way to impress girls. Some boys dreamed of having Gatsby's mansion. Some boys dreamed of his expensive sportscars. Some boys wanted his good looks. Or his athletic abilities. I wanted his shirts. I started patiently and determinedly building my collection of shirts. Steadily. Whenever I had some extra pocket money. Whenever an aunt asked me what I would like for my birthday. For Christmas.
By the time I was in college I had more than anyone I knew. Taking up the greater part of a large chest of drawers.
At some point I was courting a certain girl. Very pretty. Very nice. I was a little shy... I was looking for an excuse to take her to my room. "Would you like to see my shirt collection?" I asked grinning. "Sure", she said. She thought I was kidding. She was wrong. She thought I was trying to be cute. "The last guy asked me if I wanted to see his etchings", she said smiling.
A few minutes later we were in my room. Alone. Soft music playing on my stereo. I smiled. Slowly opened the first drawer. And started tossing my shirts up in the air. All those beautiful fabrics dancing in the air. Just like Gatsby's shirts. Would she be my Daisy? I turned to her. But instead of being impressed, she had that look of horror in her eyes. That "am-I-in-the-room-of-a-serial-killer" look. That "what-does-he-want-to-do-with-me-with-these-shirts" look... That "maybe-he-is-not-really-dangerous-but-he-is-definitely-crazy" look...
I turned beet red. How much of a fool could I be?
She found an excuse to leave. And I was left with a room that looked like a tossed salad... only with shirts instead of lettuce. My Gatsby fantasy had turned to a nightmare.
I never tossed a shirt in the air again. With or without company. But I never stopped buying them in large numbers.
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confidence versus arrogance
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Posted:Nov 11, 2011 12:34 am
Last Updated:Nov 27, 2017 1:28 pm
25439 Views
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confidence versus arrogance...
confident ...having the quality of being certain of your abilities or of having trust in people, plans, or the future
arrogant ...unpleasantly proud and behaving as if you are more important than, or know more than, other people
source: Cambridge dictionaries
A while back I had this conversation with a friend. She told me that she liked her man to be confident. But not arrogant. Obviously, I could understand what she was talking about. However, when I asked her to give me some examples of each type of behavior, she wasn't quite sure what to say. The difference was there. It was notable, she just couldn't put it into words.
So... where do you draw the line? What separates one from the other?
Can you please help me out?
Give me examples. An example of confidence in a man. Something you appreciated. An example of arrogant behavior. Did you find it off-putting? And how would you like your man to be?
Speak up. Please. I am all ears.
As always... my love... my kisses.
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newspaper ad...
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Posted:Nov 5, 2011 6:08 am
Last Updated:Jan 18, 2022 1:27 pm
24606 Views
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newspaper ad...
No, I mean really... Suppose you wanted to run an ad in the paper... to find your next sexual partner. Just sex, not your life partner. (yeah, back in the days when this place didn't exist!)... What would you write?
I think mine would be something like this:
in the men-seeking-women section...
"Serious oral addict seeks like-minded maniac to indulge for hours upon hours of mutual pleasure."
Alright. Your turn. Let me hear it. Be precise. Be concise. And be funny. Which words would you use?
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deep inside her...
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Posted:Oct 30, 2011 6:51 pm
Last Updated:Dec 29, 2017 5:26 pm
31578 Views
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deep inside her...
Even through the darkest phase
Be it thick or thin
Always someone marches brave
Here beneath my skin
Constant Craving
k. d. lang
Her soft fragrance filled my nostrils as I opened my eyes. Her back was towards me as we lay in the spoon position, her hips touching mine, my arm around her. My lips went to the back of her neck, kissed it tenderly. She shivered. Turned around. Smiled.
My hand cupped her bare breast. Fondled it. She shifted. Lay on her back as I moved my thigh on top of her lower torso. My lips moved from the nape of her neck to the back of her ear. I sucked in her ear lobe. Moved to her chin. And then I kissed her... And it fanned my spark to a flame...
I placed my body on top of hers, let her feel my weight. My hand went between her legs. Spread them farther apart. My middle finger found her clitoris. And began to massage it in circular motions. Each time gaining in strength. Each time gaining in intensity. Each time causing more of her wetness to flow.
I took some of her juice with my finger. Spread it on her chin. Then licked it off. Finally kissing her. Finally sharing it with her. My hand went between our legs again. Grabbed my cock. And began to rub it up and down her pussy lips. She looked at me...
"Fuck me", were her first words, "now!...". I didn't answer. Just pushed my cock in her. Let it bathe in her dew. Inch by inch I slid it in. But my hips remained motionless. My hand never left my cock. I lifted it a bit. Left it about half-way in. Then watched her lips form an "o", as my dick touched her g-spot...
I began rubbing it frantically. My hips bucking now. My hand holding my cock in place. The head sweeling on her g-spot. My veins throbbing. My thickness stretching her inner walls... My lips met hers. My tongue sought hers. And started a mating dance... wrestling... massaging her tongue just like my cock was massaging her spot. My mouth covered hers. Took her breath... Our hearts were beating as one... faster and faster... syncronized and yet racing at the same time...
As I felt her first tremor I slid my cock all the way in her. And began fucking her wildly. My hips moving up and down... My cock getting harder beyond belief. Swollen beyond proportion. Just before cumming she pushed my face back. Her fingers through my hair, pushed it back as it was falling on my forehead...
"I want to see your eyes" she whispered breathlessly... And exploded on me... A river of pleasure running wild between her legs... and on my balls... that were now slapping hard against her butt cheeks. I lifted her face to mine... Kissed her passionately.
And came deep inside her.
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hug...
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Posted:Oct 26, 2011 7:39 pm
Last Updated:Feb 3, 2012 3:12 pm
21135 Views
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hug...
Sometimes in our lives
We all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that
There's always tommorow...
Lean on me...
Bill Withers
Sometimes we just need a hug. No sweet words to comfort us. Just a shoulder to lean on and a warm embrace. And the knowledge that we are there. That feeling... "I am with you. I care for you. You are not alone".
And sometimes that's all we need to bring a smile back to our face.
Yes?
pour ma tite
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