Cupping my left breast, he took it in his mouth, sucked gently and licked-and then he did the other. Back and forth, it was as if he couldn't decide which one he liked best.
"Pink!" he exclaimed.
"Pink. Yes."
Then he ran his hand down my belly and into my panties, "You're wet."
"Well, it IS a naturally moist area."
He laughed and curled my tiny public pouf around his finger, pushed down my panties and began to lick. "And now it's even more so," and he kept on and on. He was very good. "I like the blonde hair."
"Well, I am a natural blonde."
"Really? Just like that."
"Yup."
He went back to his task, this time, using his hands with his mouth. Until I cried out.
"Ooh. Opera singer," he said, pulling all of his clothes off suddenly.
And there he was: all six foot four of him, naked and hard.
"Get on top," he said.
So I did.
Of course I did. What else would I do?
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
I just read this blog and am instantly intrigued and excited. I so wish I could be this dude "R". I wonder what happens next? It is always the akward details that really really interest me. For example, there is that uncertain moment that most sober men have - where does she prefer I orgasm? Or what was exactly said that convinced the beautiful woman to have sex but was not too agressive nor sheepish that she feels he is unconfident or only using her for her body? It is always the details that fascinate me.
ReplyDelete