What's wrong with pooper sex? It's probably not the thing to have right out of the chute with Mormon women, bar flies or hookers, but any clean woman should be safe*.
At any rate, a GF of mine from my last year in college to shortly thereafter got herself this nicely tanned bod; she was short but not petite. She wasn't fat, but she had the curve of breast and hip that would have been wild on a woman a foot taller than she was, but she wore her frame very nicely despite being a short version of Jessica Rabbit.
Some weekend long ago, now long past, we were doing nothing much on a dead weekend, kind of doing work at home and slumbering about. Idly sipping tea; not watching nor listening to whatever was on the TV. She was wearing her worn jeans and a sweater that was at least twenty wearings too threadbare to be proper in public. She walked up to me, slowly at first, then spun on the heels of her feet and popped open the top button of her jeans, unzipped, then rocked side to side in some slow, oceanic wave-like motion as she danced out of her jeans.
Her jeans fell silently to the floor, followed by the sound of her sweater landing on the couch behind me. In all of this, her movements were silent and carried the grace of the wind massaging some distant ocean colored pink, blonde, and tan; the wind carrying hushed exhales of ecstasy in long, slow breaths.
She stood before me, some goddess of smoothly roundular shapes, her elbows above her ears as the cosmos slid its hands over her being; this . this is the moment before the Big Bang; and not a sexual orgasm that crosses the eyes of entire civilizations, no. She looked to me the mother of the universe, her lightly bronzed skin misted in sheer white lingerie so glittery that they could have been woven from faint, pure tendrils of moonlight.
Utterly, unbelievably and unspeakably out of this world. Shimmering white nylon on a tanned curvaceously curvicular feminine form, even her glowing white stockings befuddled and transfixed mortality; heaven in those calves, that's where it existed.I was sure of that.
She slowly bent over, her white nylon panties stretching over her curvy tush like translucent snow on Aphrodite's statue, snapped thin like latex but looking like hazy reflections on a midnight lake.
I spied a pink star in this numbing nebula of nylon, a shining pink star, a distant world that promised forbidden pleasures and warm rewards.and I went there. I went there. And.
It was unspeakably fantastic.
Sometime during this fractal orgy of two, she got the idea to. Flex. Her. Butthole. I think she was bench pressing me with her sphincter.well maybe me and the entire Milky Way Galaxy.and then I blew enough cum into her to fill every oil tanker that was ever made, and yet it wasn't this release like shooting a rifle; it was more of a gigantic valve being opened and allowed to flow. This was how the universe was made.
Meanwhile, I'm still parting her ocean like Moses and cum and KY is being blown everywhere. Ceiling, walls, sheets covered in cum and KY, and I'm still hitting her hot little slippery anus when out of nowhere, every inward thrust I made into her endless pinkage produced a tongue-raspberry sound. Every tiny movement on my part and on hers made our pink bits fart out these little tongue-raspberry sounds, which made her laugh even though she lost all sympathetic eye movement.
One last gasp, and I was done. My waning manhood still orbiting her pink star when.
..I'm balls deep inside of her pooper when I feel a rush of an effervescence.like someone opened a soda water in her pooper. She felt it, too.then asked me, "What the fuck was that?"
To this day, neither of us have any idea of the source of the anal carbonation that surprised us both.
Also, I licked her pooper and it was good, but only orbitally and never pushing for insides or whatever. Not dirty or anything. She was a really clean woman. And god, did it ever set her off. One quick lick across the asshole = 37 hours of foreplay.
I guess I should buy my current GF a tanning sub and some white Wolfords.
Originally published by Silence in Penthouse Letters, June 2004. Soon to be made into another Twilight movie.
*Tic-tacs prevent anally transmitted STD's.
At any rate, a GF of mine from my last year in college to shortly thereafter got herself this nicely tanned bod; she was short but not petite. She wasn't fat, but she had the curve of breast and hip that would have been wild on a woman a foot taller than she was, but she wore her frame very nicely despite being a short version of Jessica Rabbit.
Some weekend long ago, now long past, we were doing nothing much on a dead weekend, kind of doing work at home and slumbering about. Idly sipping tea; not watching nor listening to whatever was on the TV. She was wearing her worn jeans and a sweater that was at least twenty wearings too threadbare to be proper in public. She walked up to me, slowly at first, then spun on the heels of her feet and popped open the top button of her jeans, unzipped, then rocked side to side in some slow, oceanic wave-like motion as she danced out of her jeans.
Her jeans fell silently to the floor, followed by the sound of her sweater landing on the couch behind me. In all of this, her movements were silent and carried the grace of the wind massaging some distant ocean colored pink, blonde, and tan; the wind carrying hushed exhales of ecstasy in long, slow breaths.
She stood before me, some goddess of smoothly roundular shapes, her elbows above her ears as the cosmos slid its hands over her being; this . this is the moment before the Big Bang; and not a sexual orgasm that crosses the eyes of entire civilizations, no. She looked to me the mother of the universe, her lightly bronzed skin misted in sheer white lingerie so glittery that they could have been woven from faint, pure tendrils of moonlight.
Utterly, unbelievably and unspeakably out of this world. Shimmering white nylon on a tanned curvaceously curvicular feminine form, even her glowing white stockings befuddled and transfixed mortality; heaven in those calves, that's where it existed.I was sure of that.
She slowly bent over, her white nylon panties stretching over her curvy tush like translucent snow on Aphrodite's statue, snapped thin like latex but looking like hazy reflections on a midnight lake.
I spied a pink star in this numbing nebula of nylon, a shining pink star, a distant world that promised forbidden pleasures and warm rewards.and I went there. I went there. And.
It was unspeakably fantastic.
Sometime during this fractal orgy of two, she got the idea to. Flex. Her. Butthole. I think she was bench pressing me with her sphincter.well maybe me and the entire Milky Way Galaxy.and then I blew enough cum into her to fill every oil tanker that was ever made, and yet it wasn't this release like shooting a rifle; it was more of a gigantic valve being opened and allowed to flow. This was how the universe was made.
Meanwhile, I'm still parting her ocean like Moses and cum and KY is being blown everywhere. Ceiling, walls, sheets covered in cum and KY, and I'm still hitting her hot little slippery anus when out of nowhere, every inward thrust I made into her endless pinkage produced a tongue-raspberry sound. Every tiny movement on my part and on hers made our pink bits fart out these little tongue-raspberry sounds, which made her laugh even though she lost all sympathetic eye movement.
One last gasp, and I was done. My waning manhood still orbiting her pink star when.
..I'm balls deep inside of her pooper when I feel a rush of an effervescence.like someone opened a soda water in her pooper. She felt it, too.then asked me, "What the fuck was that?"
To this day, neither of us have any idea of the source of the anal carbonation that surprised us both.
Also, I licked her pooper and it was good, but only orbitally and never pushing for insides or whatever. Not dirty or anything. She was a really clean woman. And god, did it ever set her off. One quick lick across the asshole = 37 hours of foreplay.
I guess I should buy my current GF a tanning sub and some white Wolfords.
Originally published by Silence in Penthouse Letters, June 2004. Soon to be made into another Twilight movie.
*Tic-tacs prevent anally transmitted STD's.
