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You have put me through Hell. You are a sneaky little kitten. So vulnerable and demur on the outside. But devilish and conniving on the inside. You knew that leaving me all alone at the beginning of Lent would combine the absence of both your body and my access to erotica and self pleasure. I could not have imagined you could be so cruel.

My mind literally pulsates with sexual desire for you. Desire I have not felt since New Haven. But I need not tell you—you, the Machiavelli of Sexual Torment.

So many fantasies play out their tortured plot. We finally arrive home past midnight. We are both bushed. But we have not seen each other for so long. Indeed, I can’t remember the last time I had not dripped my venom in any form for over a week. (Ten days to be precise.) We tenderly kiss in the living room. It is an ambiguous kiss. Is it the kiss of warm rekindling that leads to a well deserved night’s sleep? Or is it the kiss of lust that ignites smoldering embers in our loins? Surprisingly, I am tentative, ever mindful of my fear of being looked at as a monster and not wanting to too quickly knock you off of your Tulsa pink cloud. So I decide to follow your lead. But I get no clear signal.

You have had a long day so I suggest that I give you a bath. I run the water and melt your favorite salts and minerals, along with a little lavender oil. You luxuriate in the feeling of security and happiness to be back home. I dry you off and take you to bedside to tuck you snugly into your side of the bed. I can feel your tension dissipate as you relax. Alas I say to myself it is not to be. But I am content in your obvious joy to be home.

I crawl in and we both shuffle to the middle. You spoon your derriere into my groin and I slip my left arm under your head. I put my right arm under your arm and gently stroke your tummy. We are both contented that the universe makes sense again.

I cannot help but harden at the joy I feel having you in my arms again. You reach around, grab my erect tool and give it a tug, laughingly jesting “what’s this? Don’t tell me you missed me, Hector?” Your mere touch sends an electric vibration trickling through my body. I don’t know if I can wait for you to take the lead but you just go limp while not removing your hand from the measure of my anticipation.

I sweep your hair away from your shoulder while at the same time wafting on its delicate scent. I tenderly kiss your right shoulder like I have done a hundred times before. But this is different. You shudder involuntarily. You feel it in your pussy. Your hope of slumber is fading as the fire between your legs ignites.

What could you expect? Your last ten days have been a roller coaster journey of mental, emotional, intellectual, spiritual growth and exploration. But your physical needs were unrequited. Now all the hunger you have ignored is concentrated more powerfully than you ever remember in the folds of you labia. As I kiss down your spine and drop my right hand to caress the delicate skin of your bottom, you begin to feel overwhelmed with the tactile pleasure you are experiencing. I know how to do my job and you are a quivering mass of erotic flesh. Your need is palpable. I hear you moan longingly and I know you are mine.

Apparently it has been as hard (no pun intended) on you as it has on me, only you have sublimated the yearning. You realize now what a mistake that has been. The physical need is overwhelming you beyond all reason. You have been here so many times before. How can it feel so intense, so unique, so compelling? Yet it does and you signal with your breathing that you are quickly moving up the mountain of orgasmic culmination. You ask me to taste your flesh, confident that I will relish the opportunity to dive between your legs.

But the prick in me wants revenge. Revenge for the burden I have been carrying the last ten days. Who the fuck are you to leave me so high and dry?, I think! You know my need, my drive, my passion. Yet not once did you suggest that you would talk me to release. So now is my chance for payback. How can I love you so much and harbor such feelings?

I continue to caress your back and thighs. I let my hand slid down to the small sincan escort bayan of your back and I rake my nails just above the beginning of your crack. You moan again yearningly. Your breath is ragged and I can now smell your arousal. I have you exactly where I want you. Gently I slide my hand lower into the crevice between you posterior mounds. You are so aroused that I surprisingly find vaginal lubrication resting on your thigh. Not much but just enough. I dip my middle finger into the salacious pool and gently stir the juice. I then let my finger travel the excruciatingly short distance to your anus, moving so slow you can hear your heart beating in your ears in anticipation of the culmination of its journey. The thirty seconds seem like a score of minutes, you feel my finger kiss your bud. You audibly shudder at the journey’s end. I gently massage the ring, penetrating only a quarter inch. But enough to cause your sphincter to convulse. It is not an orgasm but would be life’s sweetest physical experience to one who had never experienced erotic release.

But you have experienced orgasm. You are in fact an accomplished expert in the art that has eluded so many women. You know how to accept pleasure from another but you are unabashed in giving yourself release. You torment your lovers by brazenly flaunting the lack of need for any male assistance in satisfying your basest need. That’s not to say that you don’t appreciate someone who knows what they are doing or that you can ever replicate the feeling of a cock artfully thrust deeply into your cunt. Oh, how I love your passion, your openness, your streak of independence. I tear up at the realization of the gift that God has given his undeserving servant.

“Please eat me, please.” I turn you flat on your back and climb to the top of the bed. I turn your head towards mine and whisper “Marita Mercedes Vargas, I love you more than life itself.” You wail in recognition of what you have put me, indeed us, through. I then brush my lips against yours, signaling that you should put your guilt aside. No matter how much you love our osculation, your pussy aches for attention. I press my lips to yours more longingly. I slide the tip of my tongue to your lips. I start the dance of our lips and tongues that I know you love so much. But your hips grind. I reach over to your right hand and lift it and place it on your nether region.

It is not what you want. You want, perhaps more then ever before, to have me use my gift for giving oral pleasure to relieve you of the buildup that has been growing. But you recognize that I am either stupid or up to something so you caress familiar territory. And so a wonton synchronization starts. As my tongue plunges between your teeth, your finger taps the pearl. Your body reacts like you have been struck by lightning at the twin stimulations. You are grinding and moaning so prolifically that an outsider would guess that it is Kabuki theatre, extreme for theatrical effect. No woman could be so animated in her passion, the alien would conclude. Especially while fucking her own finger for the millennial visit. But I know your body. I know it is the real deal. You are strung out for release. It is not eroticism or pleasure. It is feeding an addiction. Your need is so great that your attention is like slathering grease on sunburned skin, the satisfaction is in the relief from pain.

As I lower my head to lick you neck, your finger flies so it is barely a blur. You are not in any mood to climb slowly and gently. You are going to race to the finish line to relieve yourself of the burning intensity between your legs. I reach over and tweak you left nipple and it is gasoline on the fire. It notches your climb up immediately. You are almost to the top. I grab your nipple roughly. I pull it hard. I start to suck your right breast. You are mindless in the cacophony of physical pleasures you are feeling. I let you climb as I suck harder and twist your other nipple. I have played this instrument many times before and I know it like my own signature.

Exactly 15 seconds before you know you will dive off the cliff, I whisper “Don’t cum.” You think you heard me but you know I can’t be serious, eryaman escort so you continue to climb. I now sharply command “don’t cum.” Your mind is fucked over. Your body is telling you to spend the next ten seconds galloping to the monster climax that is surely yours for the asking. But your brain is still alert enough to know you cannot ignore my command. “Just hold yourself there, until I say you can come.”

It is so obvious to both of us that this is my reassertion of control after your Tulsa tantrum. Somehow you will yourself to stop climbing. There you remain for another 30 seconds, 45, seconds, a full minute, manipulating just enough to make time stand still. “Let me cum, you bastard.” I look at you with as much sympathy as I can muster and I quickly shift myself so that I can take over for you between your legs. I place my finger next to yours and dislodge you from your commanding heights. You relinquish, hoping that I just want to be the minister of your completion. You shut your eyes and ready yourself for the mad dash to completion. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’mmm allllmost theeeere!!!! Yes, Yes Yes!” You shout. “I’m almost over the top.” And I abruptly slow down the rhythm. You immediately realize you lost it. You lost maybe the best release of your life.

Your anger knows no bounds. “You are a sick fuck, do you know that.” You make a grand gesture to leave the bed, but I maneuver quickly to position myself over you. You try to push me away, but for once I am grateful to be 300 pounds. I grab your arms and hold you down. You are genuinely pissed and you want no part in my perverted control games. You resist, thrashing your arms. I wiggle my legs so I am positioned between yours, pushing them apart. You realize I am trying to position myself for entry. You are thrust on the horns of a dilemma. You desperately want completion but you do not want to reward my treachery.

You continue to resist and we are both huffing and puffing the evidence of how out of shape we are. But I give up civility and press ahead and actually make progress in wrestling you to submission. You yield not an inch but my treachery is successful. I feel the head of my dick brush against the dampness of your pond. For once, I am grateful that the size of my weapon is modest at best. I quickly thrust and I am halfway in. Your eyes glisten with a mixture of loathe and lust. I know your thought is God, does that feel good. I feel you relax and concede the inevitable. Fucking is good you conclude but you lament that you will not reach the summit that was so rudely denied you mere minutes ago.

I then assume my best position for pairing our genitals. We have been here many times before and you begin to thrust, knowing that that full feeling, such as it can be with so modest an implement, is only a second away. But as you grind, I withdraw ever so slightly. You thrust but I deprive you of even the bare satisfaction of full penetration. I can see the frustration in your face. I can silently hear you screaming “Why the fuck do enjoy this fucking charade so?” I sense you have had enough and are becoming resigned rather than combative. That is no fun for me so I push it in a little more than half and start to rock my hips. That length is just enough for the corona of my penis to gently rub your g spot on the exit parry. Your eyes roll into your head at the first feeling of manipulation of Dr. Whipple’s brilliant discovery. Columbus’ finding the New World is the only appropriate comparative discovery. Your whole body relaxes and meets me measure for measure. But I still have not fully penetrated. I know how special the thrust to your depth feels for you and I know that once accomplished each additional thrust diminishes into mechanisicity. I tickle your Graphenberg several more times and then give you what you want. I ravage as deeply as I can and hold it there for you to fully live in that moment of erotic fireworks.

The preliminaries are over and the question is if I will now plunge back and forth the 10 or 15 times before I explode. I am sorely tempted to complete our reunion. I know that is your desire. It was not the earthquake you know you were capable of but it would be deeply etimesgut bayan escort satisfying nonetheless. But I am crestfallen with guilt. Despite the risk of another noise complaint, I decide to literally blow your mind. I thrust 7 or 8 times and can feel you settling in for the final scene. But it is not to be. There is to be an encore.

I take advantage of your fogged erotic delirium. Like a panther, I quickly shift my body so now my head is positioned over your mound. No snake could flick its tongue as fast as I slap your clit with mine. Your eyes go wide and you scream a guttural urgency that let’s me know that my aim has been perfect. I then let the pearl marinate in its newfound role. I lave over your outer lips and I can almost hear the neurons firing in confusion about this dramatic shift in action. Before you can recover I attack your pussy mercilessly. You make an immediate decision that I could not possibly disappoint you thrice and you completely give in to the inferno blazing at your core. You grab my head and pull me into you so deeply that I fear for my breath. But I am content to die this way if I can profit your patience.

I am unleashed in my vigor. I know how to eat pussy and I eat with abandon. You resume your position on the cliff and can suddenly see the precipice that had till recently eluded you. Oh god David please don’t fuck up, I can hear you pleadingly pray. And I do not fuck up.

Ten seconds before blast off I insert my index and middle finger in exactly the right spot in your vaginal canal and apply pressure on your urethra, thus preventing the expulsion of your gush. I hold it knowing that you can climb higher if I prevent the arrival of Splash Mountain. You are climbing, climbing. You screams for release have surely alarmed the neighbors but I can visualize them all masturbating at how unabashedly you relish the gift God has given you for physical joy and multiple orgasm.

The wailing has become so loud and guttural that I am disturbed. I have never heard this before, quite so intense, so abandoned, so disquieting. Tempted as I am to see how far I can take this, I know I must end it for fear of entering the realm of physical injury. “Ahhhhhhhhhh, Oh Fuck, Oh Fuck, ammmmmmmmmmmmmmm” you groan.

And I remove my fingers and you catapult off the cliff and freefall. The liquid expression of your arrival is so forceful it hits the mirror at the foot of the bed. Gush after gush after gush. You have been prolific in your past ejaculations but this is truly one for the record books. The screaming and the convulsing are completely involuntary as you cum over and over again. I admire my workmanship. This is indeed the most intense cum I have ever witnessed you having. I hope that I am better than all who have come before and that you regard this as your best cum ever. This is no time, however, for an interview. I continue to press my case and literally suck your entire hardened engorged clit between my lips. You are positively other worldly in your reaction. You are now in a sort of pain, exquisite though it may be. You have reached the limits of your exhilaration. Your body realized that it is so over stimulated that it must close down less damage be done to your neural networks. All the sudden you collapse silently. You just twitch and shudder. I actually fear that you are having some sort of epileptic fit. But I have read of this as a reaction to excessive physical stimulus. I stop my ministrations and jump up to hold you tightly. I realize that you are not conscious. I can feel the adrenalin of fear begin to course through my body. Have I gone too far? You are twitching and writhing but you are not awake. I decide to just hold you tighter. My instincts are rewarded. In about a minute you open your eyes and regain consciousness. But your eyes are wild. You do not know where you are or what has happened. As the realization of what you have been through pierces through the miasma, you begin to weep uncontrollably. I hold you tighter, cradling your head in the nook of my arm and chest and hold you tightly till sleep assists me in comforting you.

We sleep contentedly like this for several hours. Glad for the journey that Tulsa has imposed on us but gladder still that we are in each others arms again. We known now as never before that our love is ordained and we will, together, overcome all impediments to experiencing the full measure of our love on this earth.


Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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