What's your favorite position and why?
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Cathleen
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This is your reaction to what he wrote and you want me to read it?! Hell no! Some kind of friend you are...you just want me to go about my life mumbling and speaking giberish don't you? Yeah, I thought so. Not going to read it -- yet.bobsgirl said:*faints*
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bobsgirl
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Cathleen said:This is your reaction to what he wrote and you want me to read it?! Hell no! Some kind of friend you are...you just want me to go about my life mumbling and speaking giberish don't you? Yeah, I thought so. Not going to read it -- yet.
Methinks thou dost protest too much.
Here I am, concerned as always about the state of your SF, and what do I get for my trouble? Abuse and scorn!
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Cathleen
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Nope!Scalywag said:
I was talking with BG earlier on the phone and she asked if I'd read Yank's post. I asked if it was a continuation and when she said yes I said "Oh fuck!" I knew there was no way I'd be able to hold out.
Now if you asked me to say the above sentences they'd be gibberish, my fingers have retained their ability to 'talk' for the moment. But this is my goodnight friends post.
silverwhisper
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it's taken me a full page of comments to realize that SF = sexual frustration. the word for the day is obtuse.
[sighs]
ed
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ed
wicked woman
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silverwhisper said:
That's because you're a lucky man who doesn't frequent the You Know You're Sexually Frustrated When (YKYSFW) thread . Some of us are post queens/kings there.
silverwhisper
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ah, that explains it: i avoid the personals and the playground.
ed
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midwestyankee
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Thank you for your compliments.
firecaptsgirl
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wicked woman said:
maybe I should check that thread out lol...
wicked woman
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firecaptsgirl said:
If the shoe fits you're welcome to join in
Cathleen
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Another favorite…
The unexpected moments, when doing the dishes or folding the laundry, a basket of nice warm towels …. Ahhhh.
When he comes up behind me taking me into an embrace, kissing my neck, whispering in my ear. His hands beginning to roam and my hands dropping the laundry then placing his hands on my breasts and pressing them hard against me. I press my body back against him, wiggling my tush against him, trying to turn around in the embrace but he won’t let me - yet. There is a feeling of want in me, wanting to meet his lips with mine, to kiss him deeply and long.
When finally I can turn, I slide my hand over his chest, not softly either, wanting him to know just what I want too. I begin to feel a boldness in my actions, they seems so wanton, so unlike a ‘good girl’ feeling. But such a good feeling, such a womanly feeling. Even though I’m probably weak in the knees there is still a feeling of power inside, a feeling of confidence that I am desirable and he will know he is the object of my desire - and I will get what I desire...
The unexpected moments, when doing the dishes or folding the laundry, a basket of nice warm towels …. Ahhhh.
When he comes up behind me taking me into an embrace, kissing my neck, whispering in my ear. His hands beginning to roam and my hands dropping the laundry then placing his hands on my breasts and pressing them hard against me. I press my body back against him, wiggling my tush against him, trying to turn around in the embrace but he won’t let me - yet. There is a feeling of want in me, wanting to meet his lips with mine, to kiss him deeply and long.
When finally I can turn, I slide my hand over his chest, not softly either, wanting him to know just what I want too. I begin to feel a boldness in my actions, they seems so wanton, so unlike a ‘good girl’ feeling. But such a good feeling, such a womanly feeling. Even though I’m probably weak in the knees there is still a feeling of power inside, a feeling of confidence that I am desirable and he will know he is the object of my desire - and I will get what I desire...
firecaptsgirl
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wicked woman said:
at the moment yes the shoe does fit lol
WaltsFrozenHead
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A “favorite”, entails some position that is so intense, so enjoyable, and so inevitable that it becomes an engrained part of sensual release. To me nothing is more engrained in who I am sexually than the thought that lurks below the surface ever ready to shift my focus back to it. The control I feel in this position is complete… and she knows it. Like a pilot within a cockpit who is able to reach every control to move his airframe through aerobatic maneuvers while having instant and multiple feedback of his every action: I know my mouth upon her is my connection to my partner’s soul. If entering my lover is take-off and orgasm is landing then having my mouth explore the world between her thighs is the essence of the flight.
It is not the first place I go… nor is it the last of her I touch before we part… yet thoughts of a lover dancing on my tongue is my most vivid of memories. In the course of exploring my partner I will avoid the obvious places until I see and hear her breath draw quicker and shallower. As I kiss her, it is foreshadowing…. As I wander her body, her navel is foreshadowing… when one finger gently glides under her panty waist band and follows it around her body, it is foreshadowing. I am always and ever more drawn to her most intimate place. All that is good about making love collides and mixes between a woman’s thighs. Whether she has a smooth bottom, revealing every detail or the soft curly fur that, even beyond sight, instantly tells me I have been graced with having my hand at the center of her body.
When the time is right… and right is many places and times I must taste her! One night stands out for the convergence of time, place, and mood. As I sat on the old overstuffed couch in darkness of the porch at the cabin, I thought of my woman in the shower. It’s at times like this I regret the small size of that shower. I ran my hands through the damp curls on my head shaking the few remaining drops of water off from my shower.
She had just finished showering when I told her to join me. She walked through doorway to the porch where I could see she had hurriedly pulled on one of my oversized flannel shirts and judging from the amount of thigh that I could see that was all she had on. As she passed me I reached out to travel a caress down her arm. I could feel the goose bumps raise up as my hand passed over her. My caress ended at her wrist as I firmly grasped it. With my other hand I raised the shirt tail and although we were only bathed in moonlight it was clear from the glisten and fullness of her lips she had been playing with the warm water in the shower. Her eyes fresh from the bright bathroom were straining to see me, to get some sense of what I was thinking. My eyes were at home in the dark… fully adjusted and enjoying her twinges of uncertainty. I asked her in a very flat tone, “Did you enjoy yourself in the shower.” Just then a Loon’s cry punctuated the moment. I stood-up and pulled her close enough to just brush my lips across hers as I caught her eyes searching to peel back the darkness that shrouded my face from her. I lowered her back on the couch. It may have been the looks and purposeful touches at dinner, my waiting in the darkness, the cool wood smoke fragranced air, the distinctly primitive Loon calls, the moonlight showing her wetness, or the sigh she let escape when my hand had grazed her inner thigh. But one thing was certain this night’s foreplay had begun long ago and there was only one position that would provide me satisfaction now.
The position: achieved by firmly grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of the couch, then pushing her thighs aside to reveal her in full access, and with my sitting on the floor is a particularly nice and relaxed arrangement to play and linger until we are both sated. My hands that had just pushed her legs open at the knees now slowly slid up her inner thigh; enjoying the smooth soft flesh. The instant feedback of her slight trembling and the goose bumps appearing under my hands told me all was right. My fingers traced the recesses of her thighs and around to cup the firmness of her rear. My hand then rolled up her inner thigh just dragging along… tracing the edge of her fully aroused lips.
Like a conditioned Pavlovian victim my mouth watered at the sound of her sighs and the sight of her thighs. But I am no victim… It is my need and lust I slake as my mouth engulfs her. Just closing my eyes and covering her while lightly tracing her lips with my tongue to feel them firm and swollen from her arousal is nearly transcendental. The power of feeling her slide down to press onto my mouth rouses my ache to know her squirm and buck in full release. The taste of her juice, the sound of her bliss, and the smell of her growing lust flows directly to my center and hardens me - like the sun, rain, and soil turn a sapling to a redwood. I have complete control to take her to the edge and just down from that height repeatedly as an insurmountable pressure within her builds… I feel her… I know her… I control her!
All that passes while her tension mounts is not work but the pure joy of doing something you love. She will dance on my fingers as they circle her G-spot, roll her nipples, caress her sides down to the curve of her hips and around to feel the warmth of her rear and move back under to massage her perineum and rim. But my mouth is what drives my pleasure to the same degree as hers. From my mouth comes; the light brush of a kiss…. the moist roughness of my tongue as I explore her edges…. A driving rigidness deep within her…. And mostly her knowing the feeling of my mouth upon her most intimate of places only to feel it withdrawn… as I blow cool air across her fever raked bottom but then almost instantly engulf her once more into the warm moistness of my mouth. She will implode… it is inevitable…. and as I enjoy her it draws nearer.
I awoke on the couch to see the top of her head between my legs moving up and down rapidly… as I came to my complete senses from the haze of sleep and felt her mouth on me and her hair swing against my inner thigh I realized how lucky I was to have dozed off… because now I get to relive every drop of her again.
It is not the first place I go… nor is it the last of her I touch before we part… yet thoughts of a lover dancing on my tongue is my most vivid of memories. In the course of exploring my partner I will avoid the obvious places until I see and hear her breath draw quicker and shallower. As I kiss her, it is foreshadowing…. As I wander her body, her navel is foreshadowing… when one finger gently glides under her panty waist band and follows it around her body, it is foreshadowing. I am always and ever more drawn to her most intimate place. All that is good about making love collides and mixes between a woman’s thighs. Whether she has a smooth bottom, revealing every detail or the soft curly fur that, even beyond sight, instantly tells me I have been graced with having my hand at the center of her body.
When the time is right… and right is many places and times I must taste her! One night stands out for the convergence of time, place, and mood. As I sat on the old overstuffed couch in darkness of the porch at the cabin, I thought of my woman in the shower. It’s at times like this I regret the small size of that shower. I ran my hands through the damp curls on my head shaking the few remaining drops of water off from my shower.
She had just finished showering when I told her to join me. She walked through doorway to the porch where I could see she had hurriedly pulled on one of my oversized flannel shirts and judging from the amount of thigh that I could see that was all she had on. As she passed me I reached out to travel a caress down her arm. I could feel the goose bumps raise up as my hand passed over her. My caress ended at her wrist as I firmly grasped it. With my other hand I raised the shirt tail and although we were only bathed in moonlight it was clear from the glisten and fullness of her lips she had been playing with the warm water in the shower. Her eyes fresh from the bright bathroom were straining to see me, to get some sense of what I was thinking. My eyes were at home in the dark… fully adjusted and enjoying her twinges of uncertainty. I asked her in a very flat tone, “Did you enjoy yourself in the shower.” Just then a Loon’s cry punctuated the moment. I stood-up and pulled her close enough to just brush my lips across hers as I caught her eyes searching to peel back the darkness that shrouded my face from her. I lowered her back on the couch. It may have been the looks and purposeful touches at dinner, my waiting in the darkness, the cool wood smoke fragranced air, the distinctly primitive Loon calls, the moonlight showing her wetness, or the sigh she let escape when my hand had grazed her inner thigh. But one thing was certain this night’s foreplay had begun long ago and there was only one position that would provide me satisfaction now.
The position: achieved by firmly grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of the couch, then pushing her thighs aside to reveal her in full access, and with my sitting on the floor is a particularly nice and relaxed arrangement to play and linger until we are both sated. My hands that had just pushed her legs open at the knees now slowly slid up her inner thigh; enjoying the smooth soft flesh. The instant feedback of her slight trembling and the goose bumps appearing under my hands told me all was right. My fingers traced the recesses of her thighs and around to cup the firmness of her rear. My hand then rolled up her inner thigh just dragging along… tracing the edge of her fully aroused lips.
Like a conditioned Pavlovian victim my mouth watered at the sound of her sighs and the sight of her thighs. But I am no victim… It is my need and lust I slake as my mouth engulfs her. Just closing my eyes and covering her while lightly tracing her lips with my tongue to feel them firm and swollen from her arousal is nearly transcendental. The power of feeling her slide down to press onto my mouth rouses my ache to know her squirm and buck in full release. The taste of her juice, the sound of her bliss, and the smell of her growing lust flows directly to my center and hardens me - like the sun, rain, and soil turn a sapling to a redwood. I have complete control to take her to the edge and just down from that height repeatedly as an insurmountable pressure within her builds… I feel her… I know her… I control her!
All that passes while her tension mounts is not work but the pure joy of doing something you love. She will dance on my fingers as they circle her G-spot, roll her nipples, caress her sides down to the curve of her hips and around to feel the warmth of her rear and move back under to massage her perineum and rim. But my mouth is what drives my pleasure to the same degree as hers. From my mouth comes; the light brush of a kiss…. the moist roughness of my tongue as I explore her edges…. A driving rigidness deep within her…. And mostly her knowing the feeling of my mouth upon her most intimate of places only to feel it withdrawn… as I blow cool air across her fever raked bottom but then almost instantly engulf her once more into the warm moistness of my mouth. She will implode… it is inevitable…. and as I enjoy her it draws nearer.
I awoke on the couch to see the top of her head between my legs moving up and down rapidly… as I came to my complete senses from the haze of sleep and felt her mouth on me and her hair swing against my inner thigh I realized how lucky I was to have dozed off… because now I get to relive every drop of her again.
Last edited:
Verbiwhore
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*Fans self* Oh my lord I think I need to lie down...
Again.
If this thread gets any hotter I am gonna have to get my chair recovered.
Again.
If this thread gets any hotter I am gonna have to get my chair recovered.
midwestyankee
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Bobsgirl highly recommends getting a seat belt as well.Verbiwhore said:
Verbiwhore
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I think strapping myself down will only make matters worse.midwestyankee said:Bobsgirl highly recommends getting a seat belt as well.
midwestyankee
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Hmmmm....I believe that you just gave me the starting point for my next installment.Verbiwhore said:
Verbiwhore
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Oh how you tease.midwestyankee said:Hmmmm....I believe that you just gave me the starting point for my next installment.
I worry for my sanity (and my wrist)
