Make me dirty
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steve44uk
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Brava.
He'd wrestled for days, trying to write a rondelet, in French, that didn't want to make him poke his eyes out with cocktail sticks. It was sheer hubris - he knew it. His mastery, if such it could be called, of the language was nowhere near enough to allow him to make the necessary rhyme structure work. Rhyming, he discovered, was a true bellwether of linguistic fluency.
In the end, someone beat him to it by means of the simple yet effective idea of writing it in English...
castellan
babylondementia
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autodidact[/QUOTE]
among the multiple skills that i have picked up by being an autodidact, is the use of crochet which can lead to some interesting rope work on my target of choice
illuminate
among the multiple skills that i have picked up by being an autodidact, is the use of crochet which can lead to some interesting rope work on my target of choice
illuminate
steve44uk
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illuminate
If pressed to put her finger on it, she'd have to own that it was the 'u' in the 'Tattoo Parlour' sign above the blacked-out window that finally caused her to take the plunge. What had, for the proprietor, been an unthinking echo of his foreign roots had been, to her, a breathtaking whisper of exoticism and sophistication.
She had no idea what she wanted, at least as far as ink was concerned, and she shivered inside at the look of wild inspiration in his eyes as he considered the tabula rasa of her pale skin.
The next few hours passed in a feverish blur of his intense concentration and her apprehensive pain and discomfort, both tempered by an exquisite anticipation of the finished work. His art became a secular, almost sexual act of worship designed to illuminate the codex of her body. He was a monk, immersed in the task of rendering explicit the hidden word of her sensuality.
And when he was finally done, despite the tenderness wrought by his artistic endeavours, she joyfully welcomed the injection of his own milky pigment into her yielding flesh...
deadline
If pressed to put her finger on it, she'd have to own that it was the 'u' in the 'Tattoo Parlour' sign above the blacked-out window that finally caused her to take the plunge. What had, for the proprietor, been an unthinking echo of his foreign roots had been, to her, a breathtaking whisper of exoticism and sophistication.
She had no idea what she wanted, at least as far as ink was concerned, and she shivered inside at the look of wild inspiration in his eyes as he considered the tabula rasa of her pale skin.
The next few hours passed in a feverish blur of his intense concentration and her apprehensive pain and discomfort, both tempered by an exquisite anticipation of the finished work. His art became a secular, almost sexual act of worship designed to illuminate the codex of her body. He was a monk, immersed in the task of rendering explicit the hidden word of her sensuality.
And when he was finally done, despite the tenderness wrought by his artistic endeavours, she joyfully welcomed the injection of his own milky pigment into her yielding flesh...
deadline
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Tio_Narratore
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deadline
"It's been a great weekend, Marjorie," he said as he arose from the bed, "but if I don't go now, I'll never get my anthropology assignment in on time."
"I'm sure you can get an extension on that deadline, James," cooed Professor Lindesforme as she handcuffed him to the headboard.
toxophilite
"It's been a great weekend, Marjorie," he said as he arose from the bed, "but if I don't go now, I'll never get my anthropology assignment in on time."
"I'm sure you can get an extension on that deadline, James," cooed Professor Lindesforme as she handcuffed him to the headboard.
toxophilite
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SwtGrnApplCandy
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As he worked his way down his lovers body, he approached her her clean shaven pussy. He gently opened her outer lips and in side it reminded him of a glistening snapdragon after a warm spring rain.
TRIPOD
Saxon_Hart
WWJD4AKlondike Bar?
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As he worked his way down his lovers body, he approached her her clean shaven pussy. He gently opened her outer lips and in side it reminded him of a glistening snapdragon after a warm spring rain.
TRIPOD
Rita thought to her self as Dave approached the bed, "If his cock was any longer he'd look like a tripod." When he mounted her, she discovered his size had been a trick of the shadows. He was hung like a gnat.
ventriloquist
steve44uk
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ventriloquist
As his fingers moved inside her, his thumb gliding languidly back and forth over the turgid nub of her clit, she lay there helpless, boneless...
He was in no hurry at all, his nimble digits curling to massage her inner walls. Each movement elicited a new vocal response, a gasp, an "Oh!", a "Fuuuck..."
She couldn't shake the feeling that was loving the sense of controlling her, of making her body sing , a ventriloquist imbuing his puppet with a life that was contrived yet utterly real. That should have disturbed her - normally, she liked to drive - but right at that moment, as the world whited out and her wails echoed off the bedroom walls, she could not possibly have cared less...
journeyman
As his fingers moved inside her, his thumb gliding languidly back and forth over the turgid nub of her clit, she lay there helpless, boneless...
He was in no hurry at all, his nimble digits curling to massage her inner walls. Each movement elicited a new vocal response, a gasp, an "Oh!", a "Fuuuck..."
She couldn't shake the feeling that was loving the sense of controlling her, of making her body sing , a ventriloquist imbuing his puppet with a life that was contrived yet utterly real. That should have disturbed her - normally, she liked to drive - but right at that moment, as the world whited out and her wails echoed off the bedroom walls, she could not possibly have cared less...
journeyman
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Saxon_Hart
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The young lad had been rumored to be a virgin. Naturally, Mrs. Robinson was taken aback when he fucked her mercilessly for six hours. When she regained use of her facilities, she phoned her friend Susan to glow over the boy's journeyman sexual prowess.
thesaurus
steve44uk
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thesaurus
"Oh, baby. Fuck me."
"Do me... Yes!"
"Pound me, honey. Hard!"
"Just... Sliiide it in. Nice and slow..."
"Take me now... Oh..."
Harry's sex life had, until he met Janet, followed an unremarkable, almost pedestrian arc. That's not to say that he hadn't enjoyed himself. And he'd like to think his partners had, too. But... well, it wasn't like it was in the movies. Not the movies he occasionally resorted to alone during his frequent "dry spells," anyway.
"Oh God, Harry, stick it in me. Now."
Janet was a waitress at the diner where he liked to eat breakfast at the weekend, a petite, demure-looking redhead with an easy smile and a quick wit. They'd engaged in several months of mildly flirtatious banter before he finally summoned up the courage to ask her out.
"Please, baby... No more teasing. I want you inside me. I wanna feel that big dick inside me..."
Their first time was an epiphany for Harry. He'd never been with a girl who was so vocal before. At first, he'd been quite shocked. Not by the words themselves - he'd heard them echo tinnily from the speakers of his cheap laptop many times. But he'd never heard her utter anything more profane than a "Damn!" when she'd scalded her hand once on a coffee pot.
"Take me from behind, lover. Ram it into me!"
She was a tigress in bed, completely uninhibited, unafraid to put into words exactly what she wanted, how she was feeling. She spurred him on, made him somehow better than he actually was. Her sex-talk, the sheer breadth of her amatory thesaurus, made him feel like a sexual god, the word alone making it so.
"That's it, baby, cum for me. Fill me up. I want it. Now..."
And as they clung together afterwards, she still whispering her heady litany of lust in his ear, he realised that his old English teacher had been right: you should never underestimate the importance of an extensive vocabulary...
diction
"Oh, baby. Fuck me."
"Do me... Yes!"
"Pound me, honey. Hard!"
"Just... Sliiide it in. Nice and slow..."
"Take me now... Oh..."
Harry's sex life had, until he met Janet, followed an unremarkable, almost pedestrian arc. That's not to say that he hadn't enjoyed himself. And he'd like to think his partners had, too. But... well, it wasn't like it was in the movies. Not the movies he occasionally resorted to alone during his frequent "dry spells," anyway.
"Oh God, Harry, stick it in me. Now."
Janet was a waitress at the diner where he liked to eat breakfast at the weekend, a petite, demure-looking redhead with an easy smile and a quick wit. They'd engaged in several months of mildly flirtatious banter before he finally summoned up the courage to ask her out.
"Please, baby... No more teasing. I want you inside me. I wanna feel that big dick inside me..."
Their first time was an epiphany for Harry. He'd never been with a girl who was so vocal before. At first, he'd been quite shocked. Not by the words themselves - he'd heard them echo tinnily from the speakers of his cheap laptop many times. But he'd never heard her utter anything more profane than a "Damn!" when she'd scalded her hand once on a coffee pot.
"Take me from behind, lover. Ram it into me!"
She was a tigress in bed, completely uninhibited, unafraid to put into words exactly what she wanted, how she was feeling. She spurred him on, made him somehow better than he actually was. Her sex-talk, the sheer breadth of her amatory thesaurus, made him feel like a sexual god, the word alone making it so.
"That's it, baby, cum for me. Fill me up. I want it. Now..."
And as they clung together afterwards, she still whispering her heady litany of lust in his ear, he realised that his old English teacher had been right: you should never underestimate the importance of an extensive vocabulary...
diction
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steve44uk
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diction
His diction fascinated her. His choice of vocabulary, his cadence, the way he switched mecurially from a very precise, considered choice of register to a playful, idiomatic tone that often made her giggle, and sometimes made her flush with a heat that was in no way restricted to her cheeks.
But it was those pauses that were her undoing. The way he left a sentence hanging, the almost bruising impact of those words not spoken, like playgrounds built especially for her febrile imagination to frolic in. And boy, did it frolic... It was as though those gaps, those ellipses were landmines in their conversations, carefully deployed to catch her unawares, their force sometimes driving her breath clean out of her.
Dot. He wants me.
Dot. My God, I want him.
Dot...
noir
His diction fascinated her. His choice of vocabulary, his cadence, the way he switched mecurially from a very precise, considered choice of register to a playful, idiomatic tone that often made her giggle, and sometimes made her flush with a heat that was in no way restricted to her cheeks.
But it was those pauses that were her undoing. The way he left a sentence hanging, the almost bruising impact of those words not spoken, like playgrounds built especially for her febrile imagination to frolic in. And boy, did it frolic... It was as though those gaps, those ellipses were landmines in their conversations, carefully deployed to catch her unawares, their force sometimes driving her breath clean out of her.
Dot. He wants me.
Dot. My God, I want him.
Dot...
noir
Tio_Narratore
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noir
Sabrina's eyes were riveted on Dr. Stocha as he lectured. She was taken by his dark, handsome mein and his commanding presentation. He was old school; a wooden pointer drew attention to the board and punctuated his lecture as well. He emphasized each significant point with a crack of the birch rod on a desk, and that crack drove it's import home.
"There are four - crack! - types of variables," intoned Stocha's stentorian basso.
"Four!," and another crack as he looked darkly at the class.
Sabrina's eyes glazed over as she pictured herself stretched over the desk, her backside bare for the good Doctor's birch rod.
"The first is nominal." He cracked the rod again and explained what such variables were.
And so it went for each of the others. Ordinal variables were presented, as well as interval and ratio variables, each with a crack of the pointer for emphasis, and each with a dreamy look passing over Sabrina's visage.
"If you need a mnemonic to help you remember," the professor said, his dark eyes staring pentratingly at the class - though Sabrina saw it as directly at her, burning into the depths of her soul - "you can try noir."
"That's...
N - nominal." crack!
O - ordinal." crack!
I - interval." crack!
R - ratio." crack!
"NOIR" and crack! again, "That's French for black!"
Sabrina nearly swooned at the sound of his voice.
radicand
Sabrina's eyes were riveted on Dr. Stocha as he lectured. She was taken by his dark, handsome mein and his commanding presentation. He was old school; a wooden pointer drew attention to the board and punctuated his lecture as well. He emphasized each significant point with a crack of the birch rod on a desk, and that crack drove it's import home.
"There are four - crack! - types of variables," intoned Stocha's stentorian basso.
"Four!," and another crack as he looked darkly at the class.
Sabrina's eyes glazed over as she pictured herself stretched over the desk, her backside bare for the good Doctor's birch rod.
"The first is nominal." He cracked the rod again and explained what such variables were.
And so it went for each of the others. Ordinal variables were presented, as well as interval and ratio variables, each with a crack of the pointer for emphasis, and each with a dreamy look passing over Sabrina's visage.
"If you need a mnemonic to help you remember," the professor said, his dark eyes staring pentratingly at the class - though Sabrina saw it as directly at her, burning into the depths of her soul - "you can try noir."
"That's...
N - nominal." crack!
O - ordinal." crack!
I - interval." crack!
R - ratio." crack!
"NOIR" and crack! again, "That's French for black!"
Sabrina nearly swooned at the sound of his voice.
radicand
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steve44uk
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radicand
Six months into her retirement, Wilhelmina signed up for an evening class in pure mathematics at the community centre in a bid to keep herself occupied and her mind active. She'd always been good at at mental arithmetic - her ex-job at the local Piggly Wiggly had honed that skill just fine - and she loved number puzzles.
Six weeks in, however, it was clear that calculus was kicking her behind. So when Clive, the softly spoken fellow in his late sixties with twinkling eyes and a ready smile who sat at the desk next to hers, offered to help her after class, she was grateful.
Two hours, two glasses of Merlot each and one epiphanic moment later, she was locked in a kiss whose fervour had little to do with her new-found mastery of calculus. Clive was as patient and tender a lover as he was a tutor, and it had been so long...
Shortly afterwards, in her bedroom, she watched their reflection in the full length wardrobe mirror she dressed in front of every morning. Clive had bent her over her beautiful oak Ottoman, her nipples crinkling at the touch of the cold wood. His fingers, generously lubed and expertly massaging her inner walls, were replaced by the head of his cock - she felt a warm glow of pride that she could still get a man so hard, even at his age - and he sank himself into her with a sigh and leaned along her back to kiss her neck. Watching their reflection, she mused that she looked a little like the radicand to his radical, and couldn't help but smile at the thought that this wasn't the root she'd intended to find that evening... but it'd do just fine.
whistle
Six months into her retirement, Wilhelmina signed up for an evening class in pure mathematics at the community centre in a bid to keep herself occupied and her mind active. She'd always been good at at mental arithmetic - her ex-job at the local Piggly Wiggly had honed that skill just fine - and she loved number puzzles.
Six weeks in, however, it was clear that calculus was kicking her behind. So when Clive, the softly spoken fellow in his late sixties with twinkling eyes and a ready smile who sat at the desk next to hers, offered to help her after class, she was grateful.
Two hours, two glasses of Merlot each and one epiphanic moment later, she was locked in a kiss whose fervour had little to do with her new-found mastery of calculus. Clive was as patient and tender a lover as he was a tutor, and it had been so long...
Shortly afterwards, in her bedroom, she watched their reflection in the full length wardrobe mirror she dressed in front of every morning. Clive had bent her over her beautiful oak Ottoman, her nipples crinkling at the touch of the cold wood. His fingers, generously lubed and expertly massaging her inner walls, were replaced by the head of his cock - she felt a warm glow of pride that she could still get a man so hard, even at his age - and he sank himself into her with a sigh and leaned along her back to kiss her neck. Watching their reflection, she mused that she looked a little like the radicand to his radical, and couldn't help but smile at the thought that this wasn't the root she'd intended to find that evening... but it'd do just fine.
whistle
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steve44uk
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Kermit the frog
If he'd had even the slightest inkling that the quick drink after work he'd agreed to with his colleagues in Audit and Financial Control would turn out as it did, he'd never have worn them.
"C'mon, Seb, it'll be a laugh... just a couple of pints at The Ship, then home, OK?" cajoled Phil, his best friend at work. Even then, he'd almost cried off but, as he was forming the excuse in his head, he caught a glimpse of Win, the newest member of the team. Her blonde hair, shy smile and quick wit made him think again.
"OK, just one, alright?"
After less than half an hour, Phil, emboldened by two pints of Hobgoblin, had made a bee-line for Jessie, the admin assistant. "Birds who wear Martens are always up for it!" he leered as he sauntered shakily in the poor girl's direction. That just left Seb and Win at the table, nursing their first drinks and making hesitant conversational forays.
Two hours of ever more animated and comfortable chat (not to mention several more drinks) saw Seb walking Win back to her flat. Another twenty minutes and two half-drunk coffees after that and Seb was bitterly regretting his choice of underwear.
"I, umm..." he stammered as Win ran her palm greedily over the bulge in his work trousers. "Look, I... I didn't know I'd..." Win, all trace of shyness vanished, silenced his with a kiss that left him breathless and just a tad light-headed. Her fingers deftly undid the waistband button, and slid the zip down slowly. Smiling hungrily - she really was extraordinarily pretty, Seb realised hazily - her eyes followed her hands as they revealed... Seb's (flatteringly tented) Kermit the frog boxer briefs. Her eyes widened.
"Oh, God, look, I'm sorry... They were a present..." Mortified, he tailed off, blushing furiously.
Win's eyes sparkled as she licked her lips and slipped her hand inside the waistband, grasping his turgid shaft and squeezing gently. "I'm sure I read somewhere that he'll turn into a prince if I kiss him. Shall we find out...?"
polka-dots
If he'd had even the slightest inkling that the quick drink after work he'd agreed to with his colleagues in Audit and Financial Control would turn out as it did, he'd never have worn them.
"C'mon, Seb, it'll be a laugh... just a couple of pints at The Ship, then home, OK?" cajoled Phil, his best friend at work. Even then, he'd almost cried off but, as he was forming the excuse in his head, he caught a glimpse of Win, the newest member of the team. Her blonde hair, shy smile and quick wit made him think again.
"OK, just one, alright?"
After less than half an hour, Phil, emboldened by two pints of Hobgoblin, had made a bee-line for Jessie, the admin assistant. "Birds who wear Martens are always up for it!" he leered as he sauntered shakily in the poor girl's direction. That just left Seb and Win at the table, nursing their first drinks and making hesitant conversational forays.
Two hours of ever more animated and comfortable chat (not to mention several more drinks) saw Seb walking Win back to her flat. Another twenty minutes and two half-drunk coffees after that and Seb was bitterly regretting his choice of underwear.
"I, umm..." he stammered as Win ran her palm greedily over the bulge in his work trousers. "Look, I... I didn't know I'd..." Win, all trace of shyness vanished, silenced his with a kiss that left him breathless and just a tad light-headed. Her fingers deftly undid the waistband button, and slid the zip down slowly. Smiling hungrily - she really was extraordinarily pretty, Seb realised hazily - her eyes followed her hands as they revealed... Seb's (flatteringly tented) Kermit the frog boxer briefs. Her eyes widened.
"Oh, God, look, I'm sorry... They were a present..." Mortified, he tailed off, blushing furiously.
Win's eyes sparkled as she licked her lips and slipped her hand inside the waistband, grasping his turgid shaft and squeezing gently. "I'm sure I read somewhere that he'll turn into a prince if I kiss him. Shall we find out...?"
polka-dots
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Saxon_Hart
WWJD4AKlondike Bar?
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polka-dots
Sam had to stifle a chuckle. He knew that laughing openly after bedding Caroline the first time could spell the end of what might be a beautiful relationship. But damn it, it looked funny.
He had never even been mildly attracted to an African American woman before, but something about Caroline made every fiber of his being thrum. What had begun as an innocent night with co-workers, out listening to a band that one of their colleagues played in, had ended up with he and Caroline in a sweaty sticky, four hour sex romp.
She knew how to do things with her pussy that blew his mind. She had kept him on the brink of orgasm the whole time. Finally she had assumed the doggy position and allowed him control.
"Just don't cum inside me Sam. Please?" she between pants.
Sam was shaking as he inserted his cock into her wet slit and began pumping. She still flexed muscles making her pussy change tightness over and over. He was close to cumming, but she was closer so he held back ntil she had finished cumming Finally Sam could take no more and pulled out. He sprayed her back as he let out a roar.
She collapsed on the bed in a panting, shaking heap. Sam looked at his cum covering the ebony beauty. "Looks like white polka-dots," he thought. Finally he collapsed onto her, feeling his cum on her skin as he nuzzled her neck, making her coo like a dove. "At least I didn't laugh," he thought.
Caroline turned her head and kissed him. "Are you ready for round two?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
Lynyrd Skynyrd
Sam had to stifle a chuckle. He knew that laughing openly after bedding Caroline the first time could spell the end of what might be a beautiful relationship. But damn it, it looked funny.
He had never even been mildly attracted to an African American woman before, but something about Caroline made every fiber of his being thrum. What had begun as an innocent night with co-workers, out listening to a band that one of their colleagues played in, had ended up with he and Caroline in a sweaty sticky, four hour sex romp.
She knew how to do things with her pussy that blew his mind. She had kept him on the brink of orgasm the whole time. Finally she had assumed the doggy position and allowed him control.
"Just don't cum inside me Sam. Please?" she between pants.
Sam was shaking as he inserted his cock into her wet slit and began pumping. She still flexed muscles making her pussy change tightness over and over. He was close to cumming, but she was closer so he held back ntil she had finished cumming Finally Sam could take no more and pulled out. He sprayed her back as he let out a roar.
She collapsed on the bed in a panting, shaking heap. Sam looked at his cum covering the ebony beauty. "Looks like white polka-dots," he thought. Finally he collapsed onto her, feeling his cum on her skin as he nuzzled her neck, making her coo like a dove. "At least I didn't laugh," he thought.
Caroline turned her head and kissed him. "Are you ready for round two?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
Lynyrd Skynyrd
schizophrenic
Josh had never been turned on more when his schizophrenic girlfriend Lola, in a span of 30 seconds, went from passionately sucking his cock, to asking him to suck HER cock, to getting on her knees and pretending she was a goat. God he loved her.
BOYCOTT
Josh had never been turned on more when his schizophrenic girlfriend Lola, in a span of 30 seconds, went from passionately sucking his cock, to asking him to suck HER cock, to getting on her knees and pretending she was a goat. God he loved her.
BOYCOTT
steve44uk
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boycott
Annie's decision to impose a sexual boycott on her boyfriend may or may not have been a result of studying Aristophanes at college. If so, it may be that she had forgotten the difficulties Lysistrata had in maintaining loyalty to the cause in the face of mounting frustration...
Dan was a slob. He had a talent for using every pot, pan and implement in the kitchen when preparing the simplest of meals, and an extreme aversion to washing any of them once he'd finished cooking. The floor of their bedroom was obscured by strata of his dirty clothes. Dust accumulated in ever thicker layers until Annie finally gave in and reached for the polish and duster herself. And the toilet...
So, her patience finally having run out when he refused to even lift his feet to allow her to vacuum under them, she told him in no uncertain terms that their sex life was suspended until he mended his disgusting ways. She was slightly chagrined at his response - he just treated it as a joke - but she was determined to carry through her threat.
One week passed with no discernible change in his behaviour. Then another. She found herself thinking of sex at work. On the bus. In the shower. In the fucking supermarket, for Christ's sake! But Dan seemed unconcerned. Maddeningly so. It was... almost insulting.
Then, nearly six weeks after the imposition of the erotic embargo, she returned home early from work. As she walked down the hallway, she heard tinny voices. Noises. Moans...?
Peering through the door, She found Dan watching a porn movie on his laptop. On the screen, a close-up of a woman's shaved vulva being greedily licked by a young man incongruously wearing a knitted beanie hat. The object of his attentions was groaning and gasping enthusiastically, and Dan's gaze was glued to the screen as he watched, his oiled palm swirling slowly and deliberately round the swollen plum of his glans.
Annie stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of his rock-hard shaft, topped by the purple mushroom head. God, she loved his cock... She could feel a sudden flush of heat suffuse her pussy, that sweet, hungry heaviness in her loins, accompanied by, she could swear, a slight gushing sensation. Her tongue flicked over her lips, her nipples hardened under her sensible work clothes and she pressed her thighs together involuntarily as she watched Dan lazily tease himself, a small teardrop of precum drooling from the tiny orifice at the tip of his cock. The little hole she loved to stick her tongue into when she sucked him, making him gasp.
"Oh, fuck it." she thought, moving towards him, hiking her skirt up and straddling him as he sat, smiling smugly, on the office chair. "I'll look for a cleaner. After..."
rocket
Annie's decision to impose a sexual boycott on her boyfriend may or may not have been a result of studying Aristophanes at college. If so, it may be that she had forgotten the difficulties Lysistrata had in maintaining loyalty to the cause in the face of mounting frustration...
Dan was a slob. He had a talent for using every pot, pan and implement in the kitchen when preparing the simplest of meals, and an extreme aversion to washing any of them once he'd finished cooking. The floor of their bedroom was obscured by strata of his dirty clothes. Dust accumulated in ever thicker layers until Annie finally gave in and reached for the polish and duster herself. And the toilet...
So, her patience finally having run out when he refused to even lift his feet to allow her to vacuum under them, she told him in no uncertain terms that their sex life was suspended until he mended his disgusting ways. She was slightly chagrined at his response - he just treated it as a joke - but she was determined to carry through her threat.
One week passed with no discernible change in his behaviour. Then another. She found herself thinking of sex at work. On the bus. In the shower. In the fucking supermarket, for Christ's sake! But Dan seemed unconcerned. Maddeningly so. It was... almost insulting.
Then, nearly six weeks after the imposition of the erotic embargo, she returned home early from work. As she walked down the hallway, she heard tinny voices. Noises. Moans...?
Peering through the door, She found Dan watching a porn movie on his laptop. On the screen, a close-up of a woman's shaved vulva being greedily licked by a young man incongruously wearing a knitted beanie hat. The object of his attentions was groaning and gasping enthusiastically, and Dan's gaze was glued to the screen as he watched, his oiled palm swirling slowly and deliberately round the swollen plum of his glans.
Annie stood in the doorway, transfixed by the sight of his rock-hard shaft, topped by the purple mushroom head. God, she loved his cock... She could feel a sudden flush of heat suffuse her pussy, that sweet, hungry heaviness in her loins, accompanied by, she could swear, a slight gushing sensation. Her tongue flicked over her lips, her nipples hardened under her sensible work clothes and she pressed her thighs together involuntarily as she watched Dan lazily tease himself, a small teardrop of precum drooling from the tiny orifice at the tip of his cock. The little hole she loved to stick her tongue into when she sucked him, making him gasp.
"Oh, fuck it." she thought, moving towards him, hiking her skirt up and straddling him as he sat, smiling smugly, on the office chair. "I'll look for a cleaner. After..."
rocket
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rocket
It wasn't until she was the ripe age of 18, when Viola was finally told that she was birthed on a rocket called Zeus while flying through space in complete weightlessness, that she finally understood why she could never get off unless she was having sex in a swing.
gelatinous
It wasn't until she was the ripe age of 18, when Viola was finally told that she was birthed on a rocket called Zeus while flying through space in complete weightlessness, that she finally understood why she could never get off unless she was having sex in a swing.
gelatinous
Seriously, wensleydale? Wtf lol.
Wensleydale
"Oh yea, I love playing around with food!" exclaimed Burt.
"Do you even know what kind of cheese Wensleydale is?" asked his partner Bryan skeptically.
"Hell no I don't, but stick it up my butt anyway!"
didgeridoo
Wensleydale
"Oh yea, I love playing around with food!" exclaimed Burt.
"Do you even know what kind of cheese Wensleydale is?" asked his partner Bryan skeptically.
"Hell no I don't, but stick it up my butt anyway!"
didgeridoo
