Insaitable  

Otaku72 44M
0 posts
12/8/2005 1:50 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Insaitable


I shall pose a question to the question posed to me.
What language do you use to describe the indescribable? When words fall pale in comparison to the visceral sensations - what then?

I don’t drink wine, but this moment is best suited for an unorthodox approach. Its warmth slowly creeps throughout my insides. As it lubricates my tongue, so does it free the limits of my expression?

Its exquisite.

Nothing short of exquisite.

I bite my upper lip. I tug at its sculpted ridges as I envision the folds of fleshy lower lips pressed against mine. Park yourself onto of my face; the space is reserved for your use. The faint smell of your increased wetness only aggravates me. My eyes roll in the back of my head, I mimic Dracula in the height of a blood lust. I attack with one fell swoop clutching your womanhood in my mouth. I gorge on its velvet smoothness as my tongue tenderly drapes against your clitoris. It circles around it, menacing it through indirect stimulation. DAMN, how I love this. Your thighs lock around my head like the band of a fitted baseball cap. You ride my face like a rodeo, bucking against my tongue and lips as they make attempts to rock you into oblivion. Deftly I insert two fingers inside you. They slide and dive, probing you’re the roof of your vagina till they reach their destination. Its apparent when your legs shudder they have not missed their mark. I rotate and press firmly against your g-spot. Years of video game play finally translate into real world application. My wrist vibrates in a flurry, working in and out of yr slit as my tongue plays accompaniment. I suckle the firm bud of nerve endings tenderly, then progress to a rapid succession of licks. I am not a cat spirit by coincidence and I demand my milk.

Its mix of the foreboding and the forbidden wrapped in sheer succulence. It’s a matter of fact that direct skin-to-skin contact holds possible consequences of pregnancy and exposure. Nevertheless, the urge overwhelms all rational thought like a tsunami towering over a small fishing village.

We are drawn to the familiarity of pleasurable tingle, provoked by curiosity, fuel by animalistic instinct. Sure as the moon is caught in the gravitational pull of the earth, our bodies fall into perpetual orbit with each other. A frail hinge holds us apart. Pupils dilate and pulses peak as a prelude for a passionate response.

Fingers grasp, grope and catch. The contours of body parts react - respond and match until two become one synonymous motion. Beads of sweat push past pores, unleashing the intoxicating fragrance of sexual intent. The potent pheromones invade the nostrils, transforming the space till all things become possible. Moist lips trace sensitive places and hidden crevices, soliciting moans and groans that create poems of their own.

The breath I exhale against the small of your back causes you to create the perfect arch. You rival the great masterpieces of architecture. I leave my fingerprints embedded in your skin, as my hands roam is surface like a wandering gypsy. My campaign is not to conquer but to uncover the truth bound by untapped erogenous zones.

My limbs resemble origami as I fold and mold to your gestures. I can’t let you slip away from me for a second, or centimeter. I grind against you as if my intentions were to bury myself beneath your shifting sands. I don’t find an arid plain, but a rich oasis.

Our bodies slapping and sliding generates a static charge that disperses through the room. Your skin is hot to the touch. I would like to assume that I would be the cause; your mouth colliding with mine justifies my thoughts.

Your mouth is like a honeycomb, it drips with out ceasing, and my tongue tap-dances against the texture of yr full lips.

Your full lips. My full lips.
Our full lips that retreat and charge, clinging to each other with a desperation and ravenous hunger that would make cannibals blush.

Ours is an act of call and response. I love how your arms drape around my shoulders as your palms rub my scalp. I exhale through clenched teeth making an “hssssssssssssss” emerge from my lips in anticipation.

I AM SO SWOLLEN, and dear it’s clear you are the perpetrator of the crime. My root is sturdy ‒ a dusky brown is landscaped with pulsing viens. I ache for you. My longing is a deep void that begs to be filled. It can only be satisified by your warm soft gooey embrace.

My cock knocks against the closed doors of your opening. It will not be denied entrance. Its bulbous head forages forward, the perfect compliment to the shape of your pussy lips.

Yes. The word alone causes me to tremble.

As they divide, the supple skin parts like the lock of a canal allowing my ship safe passage. Can I begin to tell you how delicious this feels? Can I relate how invigorating is it is as the wall of your pussy collapse against my throbbing cock? My eyes scour your face for all signature expressions of your pleasure. Teach me. I am a studious student of your cirriculum.

Truthfully, I just love the stroke baby. Call me a creature of habit that is magnetically attracted. The fit is tailor made.

8 strokes shallow, 1 stroke deep

Breathe with me.

7 strokes shallow, 2 strokes deep

Look at me. Watch me watching you.

6 strokes shallow, 3 strokes deep

My palm cups your mound

5 strokes shallow, 4 strokes deep

My fingers roll your thickened nipples under their tips.

4 strokes shallow, 5 strokes deep

My jaws lock on your elegeant neck tenderly nipping it.

3 strokes shallow, 6 strokes deep

Clench down on me

2 strokes shallow, 7 strokes deep

Cum with me

1 strokes shallow, 8 strokes deep

Bathe me with your juice. Anoint me as I flood you with my seed. Lets melt into each other. Hear me cry out as our chests heave. My grip bears down on you like a constrictor. My mind flashes white as all tension dissolves from my body.

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