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A Prelude to First Penetration
A Prelude to First Penetration
She was a Croatian that left her home not too long after the UN began security operations in Bosnia. Now she's all grown up with a mind for
the arts, an interest in geo-politics, and a body for sinning. I had the good fortune to walk into an underground club in Frankfurt, Germany, pull
up to the bar, and meet her. She happened to be one of the most beautiful girls there that also spoke decent English, and was more than willing to show me around the town. Actually, she wanted to try an American out in bed, and a black man peaked her curiousity just right. She felt more comfortable practicing her English after sex anyway, and I was more than willing to tutor for the fringe benefits. So here we were - thorougly thrashed, sweaty, and spooning.
Her golden, ample thighs, now moist with sweat, had captured my partially erect manhood in a warm embrace. She used slow, gentle cricket motions,
rubbing my penis between her thighs and ass to enduce my next erection. However she learned that trick, it was definitely working. I traced the contour of her ribs, breasts, neck and face only to find a lingering grin when my fingertips reached her lips. Either she just thought of
something funny, or was aware that the cricket technique was proving effective.
Me: What are you smiling about?
Her: just things.
Me: things like?
Her: like how I loved you here [in bed].
Me: what did you love about it?
Her: The touching and kissing before. Most boys don't do it much, or are terrible at it.
Well, there you have it - directly from the mouths of hot babes. Condemning evidence from across the Atlantic that men, not just in the US
but around the world, suck at foreplay. What is it with us? Of course, this is just about the time when some narrow-minded jackass with an
inferiority complex over the size of his wee-wee starts expounding Darwinian notion about how sex is primarily for procreation, using Darwin as an excuse for why is wife is gorging herself on Bon-Bons. Come on! There are way too many people on this planet to be her solely for the reason of "survival of the species". An old friend and fellow football team mate in high school had the distinction in his class of having a birthday that coincidentally fell just shy of 9 months after his mothers. I'm pretty sure "survival of the species" had little to do with his mom getting a special something-something for her birthday that apparently wasn't wrapped.
Maybe it's that we men are natural problem solvers, hardwired to just "get it done". One of the best lessons I ever learned from an ex-girlfriend is to learn how to shut the hell up until asked to comment when women are telling you about their problems. It took her months to
teach me this as I am usually the one that my friends confide in, and the guy are more than happy to get my advice. It never occurred to me that what she wanted was to get her worries off her chest - not have them fixed. And so went the evolution of man. But while this trait may prove
useful for engineering professions and home repair projects, it doesn't make for a passionate approach to sex.
Call me strange, but it's the approach from ground zero that does it for me. I live for endless minutes of that first look - that first time she holds your gaze a little too long. I'll more than likely marry the woman that can learn to live in an eternal stream of that moment; a moment followed by the intro and first exchange of words. Words are a powerful, dangerous thing - the true living erotica. They can kill both mind and spirit, or be the steps in a dance of flirtation between two bodies just close enough to feed off each others scent. And casual flirting is a thing to be savored. While revenge is a dish best served cold, flirting is an appetizer that should be served sizzling. It's the colloquial banter of two strangers negotiating a 69 in the mind. As I use my mouth
and tongue to vigurously massage her quivering mood, she strokes my ego until I ejaculate my soul in return. Fellatio is nice, but there's just no substitute for good head. Mental masturbation, after all, is the best kind.
And the dance goes on. Take it in guys, because you may not be here again for a while. Feel the throb, taste her vibe, and let her play cat and mouse. Call her a tease if you must, but teasing is a good thing. The three-date rule is the virtual cockring of the pleasure delayer. When the time comes that she wants you, release that energy in every way possible. Kisses and probing hands, ice and oils. Give her pleasure if you can, and pain if she desires. And if a woman gives your lips access to the sweetspot, she handed you a virtue that should not be ignored.
Kiss here soft labia as if you were kissing above. Treat her to what the Kama Sutra calls Adhara-sphuritam (The Quivering Kiss) and Jihva-bhramanaka (The Circling Tongue). And remember: nothing in creation is so beautiful as the female form. Enjoy it.