worker cocks for my wife
- 2 years ago
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I cannot begin to describe how much I wanted him: how much I physically needed him. I would see him from a distance and my head would spin, my legs fire my cock begin to throb. Should he pass me closely, it was all I could not to fall in a faint. There was a fragrance, a manly scent that flowed from his shoulders. The sight of his shirt as it gently outlined the roundness of his chest or the arches of his shoulders: how it fluttered loosely around his slender waist. His hips, how round and swelling beneath the corduroy of his pants. The long slender fingers the emerged from his shirt sleeves. The delicate white neck that rose to the soft brown hair cut short and crisp yet soft around his ears and brow.
Every day as he passed me was a day in purgatory – burning, desiring and yet unable to reach out, to touch, embrace.
Many times I attempted to speak to him but always only the most muttered greeting escaped my lips. Even with those few words, my tongue dried and clung to the roof of my mouth.
Months passed, almost a year.
Then, one day I had car trouble and took the train to work. As the day ended, I happened to pass by him.
“You know, I was wondering, do you live on the North Side?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, I have no car today, and I was just wondering if you’re going that way if you would mind dropping me off.” ( How did I manage that question. I was reddening at my boldness.)
“Sure, of course. Why not?”
It was such a simple thing. Such a common gesture. What had made it so difficult up to then?
Now, here I was sitting in his car. I was sitting next to him. Separated by the console and gear shift he was still distant. But I could turn to see his profile. Turn to see his clear white skin, the arch of his cheek bone, his chin, the taper of his nose, the elegance of his brow, the gentle curls of his hair, the soft pink of his ears. Glancing down, my throat held at the thought of his ample thighs, the spread of his legs, the secret between them.
“How far do you go?” he asked.
“Just up a way”, I stammered. “The next block.”
The car slowed.
“Here?”
“Yes, this will be fine.”
“Where’s your apartment?”
‘This one. Right here on the corner.”
“Nice building. Rent ok?”
“Yeh, really reasonable.”
“I’m looking for a better place myself. Anything available here?”
“I really don’t know”
What was I saying? What was he saying? Was I creating a situation that didn’t exist? Was I reading into a simple question those things which I desperately longed for?
And then he asked the question…
“Can I see your place?”
The question came with too much hope, too much desire, too much of what I dreamed for. I stammered. I fluttered. The words wouldn’t exit.
“Would you mind?” he asked.
“No. Of course not. Come on up.”
He pulled over and parked.
He walked just ahead of me but with a deference that acknowledged me slightly behind him. The gesture kept him close enough for me to sense all of him: how his hips moved, the sway of his arms, the tilt of his head.
As we climbed the stairs the roll of his hips and the suggestion of what hid beneath stirred my imagination.
We were at his door. He opened. I followed.
“The living room” he said. “Good space – open, bright.”
“Very nice.” I replied as my eyes took in an intelligent collection of books and objects of all sorts.
“The kitchen is small, as you can see”, he moved down a hall.
“But the bedroom is rather a nice size. Just the right light, cozy, comfortable”.
I froze as my eyes saw the bed. Above it, a very contemporary painting of an exquisite male nude.
“Don’t you think so” he said as he turned directly towards me, his eyes suggesting only one thing.
“Yes” , I stammered. “Yes”.
His eyes filled mine. His face blurred before me. His lips pressed against mine.
Suddenly my hands were around his face, that exquisite face. His scent rose in my nose and filled me to my cock and balls.
His hands were around my hips. He pressed his chest against mine.
I felt him hard and rising against me.
He fell to his knees. Violently he pulled open my belt, tore open my pants, pulled down my boxers. My throbbing dick, full and round and thick sprang upward and struck his face. In a second his lips engulfed me. My balls pressed tightly against his chin. I pulled and thrust. He lunged and swallowed. I could not bring myself any more tightly against him.
“This is what I’ve wanted” I panted.
“Suck me, suck me!”
His saliva rolled from his mouth and covered my pole, spilling out and upward covering my crotch hair.
Then he moved to my balls. First one side, then the other, then both. He licked and swirled and drove them up and down.
Suddenly he pulled off, grabbed my cock with his fist and turning his head beneath me drove his tongue into my ass.
“Deeper, deeper” I yelled.
His fist kept pumping, his tongue forever probing.
Then with a heaving lunge his tongue hit its mark, the heat of his fist reached the limit and my cock exploded with torrents of cum.
In exhaustion I collapsed on the floor before him. My clothes still on. His clothes untouched. Only my cock, still thick and pink slowly receded on my naked thigh.
(To be continued)...
Ships, particularly warships, have watertight compartments to stop internal flooding from torpedoes, bombs, or other hull damage to the ship. Sailors slam the heavy steel doors (hatches) shut and seal them tight, also known as dogging the hatches. This keeps the ship afloat during times of crisis.Military people, particularly those who have seen combat, also have compartments. When you’re flying off of your leader’s wing (who is also your best friend) and he gets blown out of the sky and you...
Love Stories(C) Mojavejoe420 2020 Ships, particularly warships, have watertight compartments to stop internal flooding from torpedoes, bombs, or other hull damage to the ship. Sailors slam the heavy steel doors (hatches) shut and seal them tight, also known as dogging the hatches. This keeps the ship afloat during times of crisis. Military people, particularly those who have seen combat, also have compartments. When you’re flying off of your leader’s wing (who is also your best friend) and he gets...
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A recent post prompted a comment that made me think about why I found this series so intensely erotic, and why I still watch it at every opportunity when it is on TV.The scene is of the deflowering of the slave Diona (2:54 in the clip).https://xhamster.com/videos/lucy-lawless-jaime-murray-marisa-ramirez-spartacus-2076904A commenter asked why was this posted her as it is not even porn. However I think of porn as being the depiction of sexual behaviour in film, books, dance or live, that is...
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