This is a fictional fantasy.
Last night I thought about it again because I couldn't forget it. It's been a long time since it's been in my head. My ejaculations increased, and so did the self-satisfactions. I don't stop imagining him on top of me, completely naked, showing off the hardness of his stomach, the strength of his arms, the tone of his voice, lustful and irresistible.
I imagine him as a wild male, highly seductive, who fears nothing or no one, haughty, athletic, proud, but also protective and passionate. I imagine him on a night of pleasure, caressing my back, torso, and groin, and me begging him to kiss me without stopping. That he gives me orders to go down to his abs and praise them with my lips, that he yells faggot at the same time as he accepts that a man can have access to his body. I want him to force me to moan because he knows what it causes in me to have him near, because he just realized it but assimilated it.
I want him to forget that he was once a furtive hunter of polleras and give someone from the same sex who desires him for a long time an opportunity. I want him to devour me, not have an end, enter me smoothly, and if I feel unwell, assist me. I want him to put me face down so I can be more comfortable receiving his sweet kisses, feeling how his soft skin rubs against my back. I don't want a I love you because I never loved him, I desire him with a sexual connotation. After the coitus, I want him to ejaculate on my buttocks and let them dry while using his tongue to lick me and make me cum.
When it's all over, I want to hug him and not leave his chest. Give him pinches in the dimples so he blushes and jokes, talk about life, and not forget something: love doesn't intervene here.
Last night I thought about it again because I couldn't forget it. It's been a long time since it's been in my head. My ejaculations increased, and so did the self-satisfactions. I don't stop imagining him on top of me, completely naked, showing off the hardness of his stomach, the strength of his arms, the tone of his voice, lustful and irresistible.
I imagine him as a wild male, highly seductive, who fears nothing or no one, haughty, athletic, proud, but also protective and passionate. I imagine him on a night of pleasure, caressing my back, torso, and groin, and me begging him to kiss me without stopping. That he gives me orders to go down to his abs and praise them with my lips, that he yells faggot at the same time as he accepts that a man can have access to his body. I want him to force me to moan because he knows what it causes in me to have him near, because he just realized it but assimilated it.
I want him to forget that he was once a furtive hunter of polleras and give someone from the same sex who desires him for a long time an opportunity. I want him to devour me, not have an end, enter me smoothly, and if I feel unwell, assist me. I want him to put me face down so I can be more comfortable receiving his sweet kisses, feeling how his soft skin rubs against my back. I don't want a I love you because I never loved him, I desire him with a sexual connotation. After the coitus, I want him to ejaculate on my buttocks and let them dry while using his tongue to lick me and make me cum.
When it's all over, I want to hug him and not leave his chest. Give him pinches in the dimples so he blushes and jokes, talk about life, and not forget something: love doesn't intervene here.
1 comentários - Ideas que no se van... (gay)