Things a gentleman doesn't say in public

There are married couples united by love, by the family they build together. But there are also - forgive the moralists - those who intuit the reality of this Third Millennium, where a new ethic is emerging, completely changing the way relationships are done. Where ownership is no longer allowed - except in some SM fantasy ... - of each other. And then there are others: couples united by desire. They often each have their own family lives to respect and preserve, but beyond that, they also have this complicity, this dense partnership that doesn't always happen, depending on each other's personal involvements and agendas. But when it does... When a very rare astral conjunction occurs, the meeting takes place. What a wonderful thing! Moments that are like a journey, that are eternal within you, that never die. Just like you and me, my muse of desires... We're almost always separated from each other, with little more than the virtual world of the e-mails we exchange, some conversations - always provocative - on the phone, in anticipation of a new encounter, and in the meantime, we cultivate scenes we've already experienced, or we devise new, even bolder ones in our minds, wanting to realize them as soon as possible. Images only in our imagination, unfortunately, but it's from these free flights of our imaginations that we structure ourselves to live our real moments, to enjoy them, because they're so difficult and complicated to get, in all their intensity. I've been sitting here thinking about all this and I've decided to write, just for you, woman... Now, first make sure there's no one around, no one can ever know that a serious, hard-working lady is capable of inspiring texts like the following, if you're really alone and in privacy, turn the cursor, move the screen, and see. At your own risk... A little more. Maybe you'll come to me on our next date proposing to dance. I have to tell you that ballroom dancing is not, never has been, my forte. But we're cool. It's not one of those dances you think about, is it? You know I know you in your heart, I know what that bold little head of yours is up to, and what it tells me is the profane dance of the alcoves. It 'll probably be something like this: First you initiate the provocations, undressing in front of me, with your body in soft folds, while you get rid of your clothes in a striptease, and then you throw yourself at me, tearing off all my clothes, releasing the more than hard fuck that awaits you. Then the dance, like a Messalina you crawl, rub your body on mine, press your thighs against my cock, rub your bouquet on my thighs, make me feel your wet heat, burn my skin, set me on fire. The dance continues, you turn around, bring my right hand to your breasts, while inviting the other to come down, travel through you, until you come in, wedge your ass against my groin, enjoy my erection. I kiss your neck, I lick your salty skin. We're still glued to each other, and the dance goes on like this, for more moments of lechery and absolutely obscene caresses, until the moment it's supposed to end, a gentle command over your shoulders, and like the good, tempting whore who now enters this stage, you know what her orders are. Take my stick, kiss it, lick it Suck it up. ceaselessly, always looking at me with that look of pure provocation. Feel it pulsating inside your mouth. I command you not to stop. Tired until you extract from me, from my body my first pleasure. I know: prejudices are not part of your posture as a woman who enjoys sex in its fullness. You like it and I am pleased to serve you. For now drink me of all my fuck that spits in hot jets in your mouth. Oh, you little bitch, you made fun of me. I carry you to bed and throw myself upon you. I kiss you, suck your breasts like hunger. I fall on my mouth, with all the voracity of a thirsty wolf in your pocket. My tongue penetrates you, borders your big lips, takes possession of your clitoris. While hands go through you, dominate, penetrate. I won't stop, not even your joyful scream. Also just your first... For a hard cock awaits you ready to receive the insatiable courtesan you sit and receive me whole within you ride your male, who penetrates you stronger and stronger, deeper and deeper Enjoy my instigating, uncensored slut, enjoy it all, we're just getting started. Fully embodied in this holy whore, who is not afraid of her desires, who knows how no one handles, ignites, drives to the peak her partner's desires, you know how much he appreciates boldness, you know he's tasted your ass, you know he wants more. She offers your body to be sodomized, which I do with unprecedented pleasure, making that absolutely delicious ass of yours all mine. We'll continue in this diapason, in this continuous fucking, where you inspire me, urge me, keep my erection, my desires, my wills all the time. It's more than likely that, like the other times, we'll run out of time long before we're tired enough to give up fucking, and we'll end this session because of the urgency of the timetable, not because of the end of desire. When we say goodbye to this new meeting, we probably won't know for sure when the next one will be, so we'll be busy trying to find a new date that fits in with our agendas. But we'll be fed, ready to wait, ready to celebrate when that day comes. Ah! My dear: there are times when a text should be made of research, filigree, seeking an elegance in the form of its construction and in the choice of words. But when it comes to addressing the theme of such a dense and intense reality, there is no way to resort to euphemisms or metaphors. The text can only be direct. The naked and raw words. For the more dissolved out there, there inside our alcove, the better they express our involvement in this celebration. We touch each other in a rare way, with bodies and minds that communicate intensely, giving each other all their desires, and censorship of any kind just doesn't fit. I'll wait for you next time. I 'm a wolf Published text. Reproduction, in whole or in part, is prohibited. and their assignment to third parties, unless formally authorised by the author. Law 5988 of 1973