Monthly Archives: January 2018

up close and personal (part one)

Going into my panties and feeling myself and those hairs at the same time, masturbating, it just adds up. Giving me so many horny ideas. Especially when I imagine that it’s your hand in there.
So, although I always keep everything neat and I’ve taught myself the so-called ‘art of shaving’ and I’ve refined it over the years, sometimes, very occasionally, I will tell you that I have pubic hair. That I’ve let it grow again. And then all I want is to catch your eyes.
To see your reaction and to see if its like I’ve always imagined it would be. Right.
That gives me the courage to ask the next question, something that has been a fantasy of me for a long long time now. Are you ready? Here it comes:
do you want to shave my pussy?

stand by me

Sometimes I want it (to be) short and quick.
Sometimes I want you (to be) short and quick.
I want to know how it feels when you’re ‘in control’ (of me) and I want you to show me.
So turn me around.
Push me against that wall. Hard.
I want to feel it in my tits, do you read me?
I want my hands on my back and I want you to keep them there.
Hold me tight.

(to) keep(ing) your head up

I prefer to feel (in) the dark, always looking (out) for you.
I feel and I feel and I come across your dick, which is perfectly hard.
I hope that’s because I’m lying next to you.
But actually I hope and wish for you to have this every morning, you deserve it and whoever wakes up next to you.
Wow. You’re hard-horny-ready for it. Just the way I like seeing you, feeling you. Because I feel you, baby.
I strongly feel the need and desire to give you a handjob, may I?
You should know, I’m a perfectionist. I want to do you good and treat it right.
Tell me how you masturbate and how you work yourself to a mindblowing ejaculation? Or better yet, let me see?

resume

From self satisfaction, while you watched me, with big excited eyes,
to the daring object of my mirror, in that barbershop.

From a rainy night at the front door of your room in that sleazy motel where I showed you, shoes only, my naked truth, to a perfect Christmas Eve, where everything was in its right place, you felt me ​​there and then and allowed me to come in magisterial way, head over feet, under the table, without anyone noticing.

From Christmas to New Year’s Eve in which we found each other in plural and everything got wet and I mean that in the right kind of way.