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“Every night, my mysterious lover visited in my dreams. He did things to me that fully claimed my body and soul, yet I had never even seen his face. I was filled with a longing for him that I couldn't explain and I would spend forever searching for him if I had to. He knows everything about my body, every inch, every scar, every place that makes me twitch and moan. There's no awkwardness in his exploration, just a targeted assault. When his fingers close around my throat, it's where they're meant to be... He feels it as keenly as I do. Finding someone you don’t have to hide your need from is heaven. We all have secrets and stuff we’re kinda embarrassed about, things we can’t tell just anyone. I find honesty during the throes of pleasure...just the best. “I’m such a slut for you” so liberating.” #Elena’sTruth
She laid on her side and watched him sleeping peacefully beside her. His chest rose and fell in a steady, hypnotic rhythm and she couldn't help but trail a fingertip lightly around one of his nipples. He shifted slightly but did not wake fully. With the lightest of touches, she continued her exploration. She brushed her fingertip gently over the nipple, before moving her hand to slowly tease the other. He shifted once more and she pulled her hand away, waiting until he had settled before continuing.
I tell him to meet me in the kitchen for breakfast. While the coffee brews, I cannot help but take a taste of that which I desire more than caffeine. Oh that moment. Overcome with sensation. Every neuron flooded with transmitters broadcasting joy and pleasure. The messages relay through every nerve and synapse, sending a rolling wave of heat and tingles up up up from toes to crown, culminating in a crashing, breathless release. I lack the usual finesse I would have with my hands, but his reactions assure me that the less coordinated, rougher touch is very pleasurable and much appreciated. Before long, my pedicure is rewarded with hot, silky cream.
Ripped clothes, tongue's twisting, hearts pounding. Yet something was always missing. Grunting, moaning, scratching, biting. She always heard him hissing. His cock out, ready to fuck her hard and good. Her clothes torn off, by his hands. Always slapping her pussy hard. Always making her ache for him. Only then was it revealed. Only then she knew she had no choice. His cock you see was two inches big. Her cries were heard out in the streets. Now you see the moral delay. Now you see the decision was made. Her cravings you see are all about lust. He couldn't possibly meet her thrust. Panting, moaning, trying, disappointing. Wanting, needing, pussy dripping. Spanking her hard, spreading her wide. She didn't feel a thing inside
There is something so utterly delicious about getting a man to the edge of his orgasm with your hand and your mouth. Listening to the noises he makes as your tongue massages his balls, the groans and little words of affirmation that spills from his lips in response to your touch, to my touch.The way his hips lift and his thighs twitch and you know you are the source of that pleasure. That is electric to me. His pleasure is my pleasure, to watch, to listen, to feel, to guide, to nurture and finally to give. “I am going to come if you carry on” he grumbles through gritted teeth. Our eyes meet and I smile and say “Are you? Come on then.” And I increase the speed of my hand on his dick just a fraction, his hips buck in response and his head drops back onto the bed as his cum flows in cascade of sticky joy down over my hand and through my fingers and I am as euphoric as if it was my own orgasm. When his breathing finally starts to settle and he flops back onto the bed and looks up at me, I take my hand and wipe his juices over my tits. It was his orgasm but I gave it to him. That to me is so utterly delicious.