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What is the last thing you masturbated to?

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Yesterday.....watching my wife masturbating with a dildo out on the picnic table in the back yard.
She wanted some lube, so I jacked off on her pussy.
Then she asked me to lick up the lube!

:D
 
ctbacon said:
Help me imagine it ;-)
I'm picturing your hips moving ever so slowly in a sexy circle.
Click to expand...

Oh, you men. It's a three lap run, at least. I start with the volume low, so that those opening bass notes are like a knock on the door. Then Greg sings and the mind's vision starts to stir. Then Duane kicks in and paths start to form, leading toward a growing glow on the horizon. Then Dickie cuts and the pace quickens. And back to the coda, building intensity, but holding one back at the same time.

Volume up a level as it loops. The bass now energizes, pressing forward again and you slide into the solos, your right hand trying to match their right hand and your left, their left. And then the coda lifts you close, but holds you there, pulsing, twitching, but not yet done.

Volume up at who gives a fuck what the neighbors think. The bass ripples thought the air, you can feel it on your skin, feel it in your hips. The room is hot and damp and you are throbbing to the music, eyes shut, rasping breathe, coated in sweat. You don't think you can go on and then the first cascading guitar reignites your fingers and they dance, igniting everything they touch. The first solo peaks and so do you, waves of ecstasy flooding your body. You gasp and fall back, as if done. Then the next solo seizes you. It doesn't care about your fatigue, about what you think is your satisfaction achieved. It grabs your hair, dragging you forward into the darkness where that fire burns even brighter on the horizon. You twist and turn and when you cry out, thinking you can stand no more, it releases you and you are sliding down into the fire itself and your body burns like a super-heated star in nova.

Then through your incoherence that haunted, tortured voice comes in, guiding you back to life on earth

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whippin' post.
Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post.
Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
 
Last edited:
karneslittlekitten said:
Oh, it is a three lap run. I start with the volume low, so that those opening bass notes are like a knock on the door. Then Greg sings and the mind's vision starts to stir. Then Duane kicks in and paths start to form, leading toward a growing glow on the horizon. Then Dickie cuts and the pace quickens. And back to the coda, building intensity, but holding one back at the same time.

Volume up a level as it loops. The bass now energizes, pressing forward again and you slide into the solos, your right hand trying to match their right hand and your left, their left. And then the coda lifts you close, but holds you there, pulsing, twitching, but not yet done.

Volume up at who gives a fuck what the neighbors think. The bass ripples thought the air, you can feel it on your skin, feel it in your hips. The room is hot and damp and you are throbbing to the music, eyes shut, rasping breathe, coated in sweat. You don't think you can go on and then the first cascading guitar reignites your fingers and they dance, igniting everything they touch. The first solo peaks and so do you, waves of ecstasy flooding your body. You gasp and fall back, as if done. Then the next solo seizes you. It doesn't care about your fatigue, about what you think is your satisfaction achieved. It grabs your hair, dragging you forward into the darkness where that fire burns even brighter on the horizon. You twist and turn and when you cry out, thinking you can stand no more, it releases you and you are sliding down into the fire itself and your body burns like a super-heated star in nova.

Then through your incoherence that haunted, tortured voice comes in, guiding you back to life on earth

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whippin' post.
Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post.
Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
Click to expand...

Okay, I read this and thought yeah, right.
So I brought up the video, opened my pants, and closed my eyes.
I followed your pace -- and just finished cleaning my keyboard.
If you ever make a video of yourself, I would watch it a thousand times
I know your preferences, but damn woman!
 
My cute and sexy house mate laying next to me while we both played with our pussies at the same time
 
Skype

a few hours ago with a lady I met last week on here. She makes me so horny and even though I was at my desk at work, she was watching me rub through my jeans and I just couldn't help but pull it out and cum for her. Luckily there was only me and one other person here in the office at that time.
 
After a nice hard fuck...

my T girl showing me vids of a stud fucking a tranny.....
 
karneslittlekitten said:
Oh, you men. It's a three lap run, at least. I start with the volume low, so that those opening bass notes are like a knock on the door. Then Greg sings and the mind's vision starts to stir. Then Duane kicks in and paths start to form, leading toward a growing glow on the horizon. Then Dickie cuts and the pace quickens. And back to the coda, building intensity, but holding one back at the same time.

Volume up a level as it loops. The bass now energizes, pressing forward again and you slide into the solos, your right hand trying to match their right hand and your left, their left. And then the coda lifts you close, but holds you there, pulsing, twitching, but not yet done.

Volume up at who gives a fuck what the neighbors think. The bass ripples thought the air, you can feel it on your skin, feel it in your hips. The room is hot and damp and you are throbbing to the music, eyes shut, rasping breathe, coated in sweat. You don't think you can go on and then the first cascading guitar reignites your fingers and they dance, igniting everything they touch. The first solo peaks and so do you, waves of ecstasy flooding your body. You gasp and fall back, as if done. Then the next solo seizes you. It doesn't care about your fatigue, about what you think is your satisfaction achieved. It grabs your hair, dragging you forward into the darkness where that fire burns even brighter on the horizon. You twist and turn and when you cry out, thinking you can stand no more, it releases you and you are sliding down into the fire itself and your body burns like a super-heated star in nova.

Then through your incoherence that haunted, tortured voice comes in, guiding you back to life on earth

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whippin' post.
Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post.
Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.
Click to expand...

that is soooooo HOT!!!:devil:
 
Thoughts about our lit friend's wife and the naughty role play she was involved in recently....
 
I am enjoying some "alone time" thinking about some of the very imaginative PM's that I have received lately......mmmmmm....you naughty boys! :devil:
 
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