Desultory and Impulsive

I like women with extra weight.

I don't give a shit where it is


Ass
Tits
Tummy
Thighs...

Evenly or unevenly distributed

Don't give a shit.




This concludes this morning's episode of Coffee Poured Over Thoughts
 
That's a goddamn great name for a new thread. Or... podcast.

Hmmm?
Maybe?
 
I like women with extra weight.

I don't give a shit where it is


Ass
Tits
Tummy
Thighs...

Evenly or unevenly distributed

Don't give a shit.




This concludes this morning's episode of Coffee Poured Over Thoughts

You conveniently left out women with fat ass heads. I feel so excluded.
 
I like women with extra weight.

I don't give a shit where it is


Ass
Tits
Tummy
Thighs...

Evenly or unevenly distributed

Don't give a shit.




This concludes this morning's episode of Coffee Poured Over Thoughts

You conveniently left out women with fat ass heads. I feel so excluded.


I covered that part here:

...

Thighs...

Evenly or unevenly distributed

Don't give a shit.
 
I can hear her in the shower
Talking to our cat.

They are shower friends.

The cat doesn't care when I am in the shower

But when she is in the shower the cat will paw at the door to the bathroom until she lets him in


I am looking forward to fucking her tonight.

I want her on top so that I can grab hold of her fat fucking tits and see and feel and study the weight of them in my hands and how the flesh of her body spills through the cracks of my fingers.

I fucking love it

I love her ontop
She doesn't love it though

She feels too exposed

Not all the time.
But sometimes.

The last time we fucked
I was on top and we laid crossways on the bed. It was a quickie before I left for work

It was great because I was able to reach over the edge of the bed with one arm and grab the bottom frame of the bed and pull myself down upon her

My full weight
And my strength crushing her while I fucked her. Her wheezing lungs unable to fully inhale. And with each exhale came about a more egregious inability to inhale

She's not into choking. But she is into that. Being crushed. I can't say that she has cum from it. But she certainly gets wet.
 
Naked
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

I wasn't ready to be awake
But the force of the day compelled me to be so.

She laid equally naked behind me
On her side
Covered warm by the thick comforter on our bed

Her head propped up by her pillow
Her narrow shoulders
Her waist
The high swell of her hips rising above all like the rolling hills of Tennessee.

I've never been to Tennessee


That's a lie.

I was there once.
Knoxville.

My cock was softly swollen still.
On the downhill slide of morning wood

It felt good against my thigh
Warm.

I spread my legs and brought my hands down to hold it. Cradle it. Study it. Fall in a state of dissociation with it

And I pretended it wasn't mine
And I sat there
Imagining
How she could take such a thing
Into her asshole like she does

I stroked the spongy head of it with my thumb and fore finger

It was somewhat still slick with lube and her body.

I liked it
It felt good

I liked the memory of her
And the thought of her sleeping yet still behind me.

I liked the thought of my semen still inside of her. Searching. Dying. Being absorbed. Being expelled. All stages.

I liked having given something to her that she wanted

And I liked the thought of her sleeping there. Keeping that part of me safe.
 
The scent of the common daisy flower has always reminded me of sex.

Even before I knew what sex was.

One of my youngest memories is being in a field hiding in the tall grass smelling daisies and thinking I was getting away with something.

There is another flower. A flowering bush or tree that blooms in the spring that does the same thing. I don't know what it is and I always forget about it until I cross paths with the scent in the air and I stop in my tracks and am like... My God yes! THAT IS FUCKING IT!!!

I'm not physically turned on. But I am aroused with a want to fuck. And it's a deep kind of arousal and I just want to roll in the scent. Bathe in it. Fuck a woman in it. But at the same time am perfectly contented not to. Perfectly contented of being brought back into the memory of time when I didn't know what sex was but knowing that it was what I knew I would want once old enough to know what it was all about.

The season of such blooming flowers have passed and I am left here thinking about them and the her of whom I do not know and so much want to be with.
 
Sitting here this morning with my coffee and buttered toast I got to realizing that I don't remember how old I was when I started eating pussy.
 
Now that I got your attention

Why did the imaginary woman wear lipstick?


Because she wanted to be completely made-up.
 
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Of the things
She wanted most
Was being in a state
Of feeling
Completely
Sexually owned.

Without worries
Of the past
Or complications of the future

To be allowed to give in
And not be punished
Or shamed for it.

To be fucked so hard and completely
That the little girl
She felt she still was
Felt clean
And ready for bed
One
Last
Time
 
With what!? With what?!

Lips, yes. A hint of a smile there, upturned and feels reflective at the moment.
Your hands graceful but impatient as they wait to roam.
Chest equally warmed and hard under the soft hair.
Your words, poems, thoughts, rambles and what have yous have piqued my curiosity for some time.
And then now, a subtle interest in art. Interesting.

There you go on the what. 😉
 
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