I like making love with the light on, or even better, in the daylight. Maybe this has something to do with voyeurism, but it's not just that. I get excited seeing the combination of colors and shapes created between bodies. Having sex with a man of color is always present in the female imagination. One already knows what's said about the size of the virile member, besides, due to my weakness towards the visual, as a white-skinned person, I was intrigued by that conjunction of day and night, light and shadow of entwined bodies. So when the situation arose, I slept with a man of color and could let loose my sexual and visual pleasure, which fed into each other.
The experience couldn't be more gratifying, unfortunately the ecstasy that I provoked, erased most of what I lived that day, but here I write what I remember that was etched in my memory like a burning fire, for fear that time will take revenge on me and memories become blurry and confusing.
I won't go into details about how I met him, or where we found each other, or anything that's not related to the precise moment when our bodies met. At this point, I don't care to remember those trivialities. I just want to recall the deep white of his timid smile as we slowly undressed, leaving our exposed bodies to our eager and desirous gazes. The sexual flush rising in my chest and up my neck to my face, like a burning coal, in a sweet fever. The game of caresses from our hands, tracing the bodies disposed to recognize and be recognized. His head, full of small curly black hairs that seemed springs, lost among his open lips, the texture of his rough tongue inside me. The unexpected ying-yang of our palpitating bodies entwined while we kissed and licked each other.
I want to recall the whiteness of my breast and my wet nipple on his smooth, hairless chest, virgin of all hair. The delicious combination of the purple color of his erect penis on the blue of the bed sheets. My anxious hand guiding his penis towards my eager vagina, waiting for the rhythmic movement of our bodies. And finally I remember the brown, fleshy meat, masturbating himself over me, with closed eyes and pursed lips, to release his warm and thick semen onto my breasts, just as he had promised to fulfill a fantasy.
I regret not remembering more from that party day for my vision, sometimes I regret not having seen him again. But that's how fantasies are, once fulfilled they can lose their magic and repeating them takes them to the Sad terrain of rut or disillusionment. Yes, it's my duty to the women, if they ever read this, that the dark-skinned man's penis size was not impressive. But training others... That didn't disillusion me much.
The experience couldn't be more gratifying, unfortunately the ecstasy that I provoked, erased most of what I lived that day, but here I write what I remember that was etched in my memory like a burning fire, for fear that time will take revenge on me and memories become blurry and confusing.I won't go into details about how I met him, or where we found each other, or anything that's not related to the precise moment when our bodies met. At this point, I don't care to remember those trivialities. I just want to recall the deep white of his timid smile as we slowly undressed, leaving our exposed bodies to our eager and desirous gazes. The sexual flush rising in my chest and up my neck to my face, like a burning coal, in a sweet fever. The game of caresses from our hands, tracing the bodies disposed to recognize and be recognized. His head, full of small curly black hairs that seemed springs, lost among his open lips, the texture of his rough tongue inside me. The unexpected ying-yang of our palpitating bodies entwined while we kissed and licked each other.
I want to recall the whiteness of my breast and my wet nipple on his smooth, hairless chest, virgin of all hair. The delicious combination of the purple color of his erect penis on the blue of the bed sheets. My anxious hand guiding his penis towards my eager vagina, waiting for the rhythmic movement of our bodies. And finally I remember the brown, fleshy meat, masturbating himself over me, with closed eyes and pursed lips, to release his warm and thick semen onto my breasts, just as he had promised to fulfill a fantasy.
I regret not remembering more from that party day for my vision, sometimes I regret not having seen him again. But that's how fantasies are, once fulfilled they can lose their magic and repeating them takes them to the Sad terrain of rut or disillusionment. Yes, it's my duty to the women, if they ever read this, that the dark-skinned man's penis size was not impressive. But training others... That didn't disillusion me much.
4 comentários - Memories