Everyday is Valentines Day… (Explicit)
Just like any other day I’m excited my baby’s on his way home.
I picture him entering his jeep, one foot after the other, smelling like a dozen red roses.
So whilst I’m home, I prepare for his arrival. Not only am I panting at the thought of him entering the front door. I just know he’ll seduce my everlasting, overflowing oyster. It’s for this reason she’s always kept open for him, no need to pry her open, the prize has already been won.
Just as I thought, his smell streamed through the living room, just wafting under my nose, arousing my ever waving cilia. Speaking in tongues to my brain, which sends tens of thousands of signals to my cream covered labia.
As I try to hide the throbbing by maintaining a slight grip of my floor muscles. His touch upon my waist, one hand cups my neck. I give in, and ever so slightly he senses me losing control, “calm down baby, I’m yours for tonight, tomorrow, always and forevermore”. Every night I hear this line it enters as if it’s the very first, his sexy deep voice vibrates through me and I cup his mouth in mine.
Clothes no longer prevent me from feeling each hair strand stand erect on his lower back. We kiss a dance of love; he takes me under my arms effortlessly and places me upon the rug. Mouth wide open as if a fresh slice of watermelon lay before him, hunger bites my budding bug, a mouthful is just never enough.
Affectionate and smooth, slow but rough, it’s all in the groove. Fore-filling though not full, I stroke his head and beckon him in.
Rest ashore, he knows his job, securely he fits, just like a glove. We sway, to me to you, he pounds harder and harder yet the strokes feel so smooth. Powerful bursts of me all over him, he teases me, she smells him cum but it’s only premature.
This journey evolves into a movie scene. No porno could ever come close. Denzil ain’t got NOTHING on my baby, we sweat, we boil, we roast. Intensity intensifies, my climax erupts, as he grips my thighs, I pant, he strides to me to you and side to side. This here is no game, does he dare pull out? One piercing gaze tells him ‘don’t you dare’, he reads me like a book. Captain hook, all aboard as we set sail, he strides, I ride, to me to you, then the tables turn.
Make sure your ready, cause this part ain’t no joke. He lays stiff looking up at me, I stare back whilst holding his feet. Two cheeks bounce, they drill, he screams, this roller coasters seeking its thrills; breathe taking, my body congratulates him, better, than any sleeping pill. He gasps, I excite as he flips me off my bike. Ok baby this medals all yours tonight, hold on tight.
Right now I miss his facial cheek bones, though right now I do not care. For the feeling is overwhelming, I feel dirty as he pulls a fist full of hair. My follicles no longer tender, my back lowered upon his member, he pounds through him to me, knees quiver making me weak. The sheets holler for they know no better, my grip is nothing in comparison to what I’m feeling, compared to what he’s getting and giving.
Sweat knows us inside out, we introduced dermis to glands, hands to forehead, neck back to mouth. With every body part waiting in anticipation, hands joined at the mouth, awaiting the finale, preparing for the encore. Though his hands now smoother my mouth, the band has enough members for us to worry ourselves about.
A grunt escapes his mouth. Here it comes, let it out baby and don’t hold back. As I shudder from feet to nape, I let go and with that there goes the bank. Ever-flowing through me to him, his competition covers my ever growing weak spot and deep within. He flops, his job is done, and there I lay covered in cum, every last satisfying ounce. We breathe beat for beat like siamese twins, dream a dream of forevermore…
Written by: Y. JT. Blake ©2011
- That dirty feeling… (ask.metafilter.com)