“…the feel of his roughness of his face on my thighs, the touch of his lips, his tongue…”
Janine from Wisconsin
A stressful day drives me to some good sex. Well bad sex. Off the charts wild sex, you know the kind. It starts with random conversations on a sex line. Then one on one, we will meet somewhere random. What I crave is a touch. What I really want is a brush from the past.
When he rubs the roughness of a nights not-shaving against my pussy than rubs his skin along my thigh, then along my side all the way up to my breasts, the touch and roughness of the hair on his face, it fucks with me, I crave it so badly. All along his hands hold my nipples and I stretch my body to touch as much as I can.
I long for his lips to touch my own on my face and my pussy. I long for that touch, the taste of his mouth on mine. A bit of last night fresh on his tongue, the roughness of his skin, the firmness of his hands positioning my body so that I will feel him deeper inside of me, his every move as his cock reaches in and grabs my innards.
The feel of his roughness of his face on my thighs, the touch of his lips, his tongue swirling and slurping inside of me, occasionally bringing the juice to my own lips, as my tongue will wiggle its way into his mouth then deep into his throat, my hands will stroke his cock, his head burrows into my stomach, my hair rises on my arms as I lift my ass off of the feathers.
His face needs a place to burrow. My pussy longs for the touch, the fuck, the feel, the climax; my body wants to feel the touch. The roughness of his hair on his face just fucks with me, because the head only knows the touch the body feels.
My body likes to expend the excess energy that I have on exercise, personal physical and mental pleasures. Wow my body craves for that release. Fuck me, lick me, suck me… kiss me.
Oh the pleasure is so good… That it is bad.