Decades of Sex (14): Impressions

María gets inflamed when telling me about her conversation with someone on a long bus ride. Although they didn't even touch, the magic was intense: 'I wasn't that good', she explains 'but his words were like fire'. One of mine! In bed, we paid him due homage.

Adriana shows off by doing squats in four variations: alternating my pole between one and another hole, whether looking at me or with her back to me. I'm having trouble deciding.VulvaWhy not always call the female pleasure hole: dark, warm and humid ('jungle', 'umbrage')? Worse, in Spanish we don't pronounce the 'v' like in other languages, because it would sound even better, alluding to the moist fertility of rain. And always to lust.

It's my turn to delicately slide a feather over loved skin, which bristles like a sea that remains ruffled forever, while eager sexes beat to meet each other.

The babe crossed long abstinence and chose me to correct that error. Already horizontal and facing each other, she grabs my hand and takes it to her chest. Her reaction is instantaneous between yearning cries, bringing her body close, not to heal but to increase her fever.

María's interior is velvet-like where my virile scepter resists, humid moss on which my avid snake slides, warm cave of fine rugosity that won't let me escape until I buy a precarious freedom by segregating my liquid toll, token of pleasure.

On a warm evening, the sun was shining down on us, delivered as we were to our mutual hunger. The phone interrupts us. Laetitia answers reluctantly, argues, gets annoyed, and cuts off irritably. When she heads towards the bed, I know she'll make me pay for the broken dishes by practicing several excesses.

Oh, the cries, lamentations, clamors! María blasphemes dancing the eternal dance of joy, plunging my juicy stake into her hospital oven, the totem of my blind passion in her nirvana, my pure staff in her sanctuary (so often profaned, so often consecrated).

In a European city, Fernanda invites me to see a live sex show. The idea soon transcends us; some hours later, calmed by some time our ardor, we realize it's getting late. We only have left trying to emulate the actors.

Do you want me to submit? María asks me. It means she'll give me satisfaction by hand, supporting her delicious front on my back and moving my hardness with fervor, skill and malice. In those cases, I always end up in rough convulsions. Foreign masturbation is sublime.

I'm going to torture Adriana with melted wax but the trembling fire goes out. Matches refuse to ignite. Since the candle is thick, I use it so the other hole doesn't stay empty. In my very privileged inner situation, I feel her coming slowly and keeping me company.

Also, I like it when they masturbate face down with a vibrator or fingers, putting my face at the level of their knees and watching how the entire love zone contracts and expands, expands and contracts, marking a glorious rhythm that harmonizes with the voice on the other side.

Maybe because I have the experience, but when María takes ice cream, I hold my breath. While her hand makes it spin, with agile movements her long tongue prevents even a drop from falling. And when there's risk, she puts everything in her mouth with immense gluttony! Ah!

Few names and quite repeated, right? Maybe because we don't put restrictions on ourselves, we dedicate ourselves to being moderately promiscuous with known people who share values of respect and freedom, on one hand, and the mischief and hot bodies, on the other.