Potential Goddess of mine wet dreams â„¢

Where the valley met the forge and under the light of a full flesh hued moon, a radiant voluptuous woman (fitted with necessary accoutrements of survival) seemed to appear magically from the Earth.

You spoke my name inxs of purple haze while attempting to touch the sky and set fire to my sea son da pool of testosterone.

Although the utterance brief, you spoke volumes. Ballads flitted to and fro whence you softly (and barely audibly) uttered the words “come with me and let us make unrequited love”.

Naturally, I willingly surrendered per that aural, carnal, feral, integral lovely orgiastic hormonal riposte that validates consensual adulthood in general and manhood in particular.

We stole away to some secluded hideaway camouflaged cottage and effortlessly shed our clothes in preparation for that au natural buck-naked wholesome fusion of two bodies exuding ambition toward coital contentment.

That je nais se quoi most basic delectable frisson heralding jubilant lasciviousness meandered pleasingly replacing sweet nothings subtly directing tactile overtures of amorousness.

Before the blink of an eye, we both concurred via non-verbal communication to allow the flirtatious kibitzing to find us reconnoitering straightaway, which led to a bushy segue way transition from aural to a choral, epochal and oral experience.

As a sentient healthy homo sapiens (awash with immediate desires to become aroused, caressed, enticed to ascend the acme of climactic fulfillment), I embraced this corporeal embodiment of near aesthetic perfection.

Lips touched those of the other before our respective tongues became quick tasty buddies reaching and stretching into the dental cavity of the once former strangers.

French kissing (sans a germane guy) consumed this writer like the ens, and found him imbibing the still lingering residue of the last morsel and drink ingested from this fair iron maiden whose longing for passionate discovery of mine so called pie hole equally powerful.