The other day I thought of the sensual dance that we did the previous weekend; it started with hot kisses and led to your naked breasts compressed on my bare chest and my steely wet cock lodged against your soft crotch, feverishly straining to release my sweet steaming load deep inside you. I thought about you fidgeting and moving your pouting lips to guide my pulsing flesh into your opening. I envisioned the lips of your pussy gaping open and swollen with lust, your clit erected, the mouth of your vagina yawning and drooling. Your own desire made your pussy anxious for my entrance and thirsty for my warm passionate cocktail.
I leaned into you, pushing my hardened lust into you; it disappeared into the downy covering that hid your wetted opening. I felt your sex mouth surrounding the ultra sensitive crown of my cock and sucking it into you like it was a delicious delicacy coated in tangy sauce. And the dance resumed again culminating in the convulsive pleasure of me emptying my steaming lust into you.
When we are apart it is the thought of making love to you that consumes me; just as it had done a few days earlier. But it is interesting to me that when we are together it is not the thought of penetrating you that consumes me. As much as I love coating the warm walls of your pussy with my thickened cum, it is not what I think about as I watch you. It is you, your body, your presence and the feel of you that arouses me. It starts way before we touch or kiss. It is started by the sight of your heart shaped derriere in tight jeans puttering around the house; it is stoked by the slinky nightgown that clings to your nipples as you come to our bed in the dim late hours of the night, your breasts jiggling as you walk..
It is the warm soft spot under your ear that rises to my kisses as I hug you from the rear and slide my hand down the front of your panties to caress your warm vulva in my palm. You shudder as the kiss on your neck rushes to your pussy; your sexy cleft is warmed by my hand forcing it to receive the sensation of the kiss as a tingling spark dancing over your wet lips.
I have seen the power of mental foreplay as I do something as mundane as doing the dishes while you are leaning against the counter next to me talking. You are talking but I am staring into your eyes; my own eyes betray me. As you are talking my eyes are telling you how much I care for you as we go through the hum drum chores of the evening; you see my passion for you and you blush coyly and wordlessly in response. You know how I feel and you know after all this time that your shy gaze has taken control of my cock. As I stare into your eyes I feel my penis engorging and hanging heavily between my legs as my desire for you pulls and tugs on it lazily.
As I have gotten older my love for you has mellowed into a fine vintage and my respect for you as a sexual woman has deepened. The gift of your sexuality has become a treasure to me. I feel it as I hold you in my arms pressing our lips together in a kiss of unmitigated adoration. A kiss that is so passionate that you swoon in its heat. A heat that causes the nectar from your sex to soak through your panties and tickle down your soft thigh; the warm glow that is burrowing into your pussy makes your knees weak as you lean into me and force me to hold you upright as you succumb to the pleasure that is consuming you.
All of these wonderful responses in you are preparing you to receive the liquid testimonial of my adoration for you.
And when the act is done and my relentless penis has crammed you so full of pleasure that you cannot stand it any more you convulse in anguished orgasm and bury your face in my neck gasping as the orgasmic spasm clenches your pussy and rhythmically squeezes the pleasure from your trembling lips. You squelch the irresistible desire to scream by pressing your mouth into my neck and groaning.
I have filled you with my warm sweet cream; it is an elixir that pools deep inside your vagina. Like a delicate liqueur it makes you woozy as it coats your sweet pink canal. I love this part of our love making as much as the climax itself. In the fuzzy haze of post orgasmic relief you are driven to cuddle and rest in my arms. The sweet reward of a sex induced orgasm and the consequent gift of my warm cum welled up inside of you lulls you into the restfull safety of my adoring embrace.
As you lie there in my arms with every ounce of tension and worry driven from your body in the warm rapture that my cock has exploded inside you, your body lies heavy on me.
The dim grey light in the room covers us both in anonymity. I know that I am holding you against my naked body. I know you from your scent and your feel; however the haze of night hides you from me as I hold you. My hand wanders over your body seeking to discover you and reassure me that it is indeed you. I cup your familiar swollen breast in my hand; your nipple is still hardened from the delightful anguish of your orgasm; an orgasm that has teased it to a state of hardened sensitivity. You flinch a little as my fingers brush over it's firmness.
My hand traces the path down your tummy towards your engorged pussy. You lie immobile, your legs parted in anticipation as my hand meanders below your belly button seeking its prize, your sopping reddened cunt. When my palm cups your vagina, your shuddering sex rewards it by regurgitating our combined cum into my palm. Our mingled cream is steamy hot from being inside you.
Holding our combined cum in my hand is one of the most intimate things I can think of. The warm liquid I hold is part of both of us. It is a physical manifestation of our commitment to each other. It represents the very essence of both of us given to each other at the apex of the most intimate and spiritual moment a man and woman can share . . . mixed together in the joyous crescendo of a convulsion of passion.
As I hold you I think that this is the sweetest moment of love making, the reward of your sweet body surrendered to me in total bliss, enriched by the passion that I have deposited deep inside of you.
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