I often find myself thinking about what it would have been like if I got to meet my delicious man when we were in our prime. I wonder what it would have been like to know this amazing, deep, and loving creature at a time before all our beautiful baggage, our tried lives, and honestly to be the one to saddle break him myself. I hate to imagine anyone before for me, and even though it isn’t productive, I like to think about us when all our body parts were where they originated, and before his back was bad and before having children changed our bodies and minds forever. I wonder what he was like before he became so beautifully seasoned, and before we were calloused by the weight of our broken hearts and marriages. The time in our lives when we both were convinced that we were invincible and still full of wonder.
I’ve heard of him growing up and still hear a lot about the John Knight of old from his long dear friends now. He has a reputation that far precedes him, and knowing him now, I imagine it was forced on him. He is a dichotomy of what I’ve heard to what is. I wanted to see for myself; I wanted to witness this sweet, modest man before he knew what humility was. The man that demanded way more attention than he ever wanted. The magnet to all those who wanted a piece before he ever knew he had anything to offer. Really, I wanted to know firsthand what it was like to be under, over, and every other which way with that man of three percent body fat and as lean and fast with the endurance of a sun-tanned Arab desert horse. I wanted to be the first to put a saddle on him and reel him in, under and over me, and I knew where and when I wanted to go back to. He would have been a twenty-one-year-old virgin right out of the military — hey, shut up, it’s my dream, and I would have been eighteen and on my way to college. Oh boy, he isn’t going to know what hit him.
I wanted to have our first date over again, but this time, we wouldn’t be in our forties and both without all our beautiful baggage, siblings and nieces and nephews to witness, and for obvious reasons. It would still be on the beach and in the surf, but it would be just us. I knew I’d have to approach him again when I got to that time because he is oddly shy and introverted for someone who exudes so much raw sexual healing. But I know now, how perfect we are together, so putting myself out there again was that much easier. He was a specimen in everybody’s eyes but his own but I knew even back then he would have been wise and humble but still full of raging testosterone and reckless power, shit I’m wet again. And cut to the chase, we are on his motorcycle, my arms hugging his lean muscular frame as the hum of the motor masks my own. I was still giddy even knowing what I knew now, but this time, I was going to be the one to show him. Yeah, right, but I was going to give it the college try. I wanted to blow his mind like he does mine every single time.
He is a man of little words, even when you know him intimately. He doesn’t feel the need to fill every void with mindless banter, and when he does come out of his shell, he is incredibly deep, wooingly so, and funny as all get out. He was even more ridiculously hilarious before life beat him down and it was just amazing to witness such unbridled talent; and as much as I wanted all that sexual healing for myself, I wanted to be able to love and guide him towards his potential more; but I’m not going to bore you with those details, because holy fuck, that young man was a machine. It wasn’t arrogance but I saw how people though he was cocky. It wasn’t even something that he seemed to have to work at; it was just who he was born to be. He exuded sexual healing, and everybody wanted to tap, borrow, or steal it. Again, he was that dichotomy of super flirt and unbelievable honesty while still being someone who believed even just a kiss was the most intimate of actions. I knew I didn’t have the luxury of the long courtship, and knowing what I know now, I knew we’d be okay even if I had to take the lead. We found a nice secluded white sand beach, parked the motorcycle, and set out the blanket to watch the sunrise, and that, I promise, is as boring as my dream got.
Did I mention that he is pure sexual healing? It is hard to imagine that he was put here for anything else. He is great at anything he does, but making love has to be his calling. It is spreading the love, but I’m only concerned with him spreading me at the moment. The sunrise was beautiful, I imagine, because we couldn’t stop staring at each other. He looked at me like he knew me before, and if he only knew. Those big and deep blue eyes had me swimming in my juices, and those dimples and every ripple of his muscles with the slightest movements were like waves beckoning at the shore. When he suggested that we get nekkid, I smiled because I should have known. He dropped his linen like he knew he was born to be nekkid and assisted me with mine. Oh, how he drinks you and how he makes you wet before your clothes hit the floor. I remembered to assert myself because I wanted to “show him” instead of allowing him to assert his natural dominance. I want you to imagine his lean, tan, and muscular body in all its glory, and again, that is the dichotomy of loving this man. I want to possess him and keep him locked up with the rest of my sexual toys, but I feel like I need to share his sexual healing with the world. To see him at his peak, and all that is good in him wrapped so perfectly, and knowing how I complete him was more motivation than I needed, trust me. I knew I was about to blow his mind by heading him off at every pass. Skipping past the chase as if there were any, and after some very heated petting, I said to him in his own words, “I need to taste you,” and asked him if I could ride his face.
That saddle is as good as any; who am I kidding, there isn’t any better. I threw my leg over him and lowered myself onto his dimples as he wrapped his arms around my thighs to spread me. I teased him by bobbing my tight little haunches over his hungry mouth and dipping my honey pot onto his nose and tongue before he pulled me down and spread me with his face. I laughed knowing what I was in store for and wrapped my two hands around his young, thick and diamond hard cock and didn’t waste any time getting reacquainted as his natural bow glided down my throat. I sucked his cock hard and fast while I moved my hands down to massage around his tight young balls. His thrusts from the bottom told me that I had the advantage, and I knew I needed to keep it. I gagged myself with the enthusiasm and experience of a forty-year-old woman, and it wasn’t long before I had the young buck seed at the back of my throat. I worried for a minute as I swallowed that precious seed but his still intensely hard young cock put my mind at rest as he ate my dripping pussy to my violent orgasm. I shook, rattled and rolled on his talented face but his still hard cock had me wanting more. I pulled my hard clit from his suction cup like mouth and crawled down his eight pack to get into the saddle. I rode reverse cowboy style and was still amazed when I had to pry his cock off his abs because it was so hard as I pulled it down and lowered myself on it. What do you know? The view was amazing as I looked over the beach and rode his longboard. It also allowed me to appreciate my young self again as I tweaked my firm little breasts and fondled my clit as I broke my delicious man. I put on a show for both of us and remembered quickly how easy that is when you appreciate yourself, and when I looked back to see him doing the same, I took great pride in looking back and watching him squirm under me while trying to maintain. When his exalted cries of orgasm came and he succumbed to me, I watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his jaws locked, and every muscle in his body tightened under me. I worried again that I was doing too good of a job until again I was pleasantly surprised that his cock was still raging as I slid up and down his pole and watched him jump and jerk under me. I was full of myself, constantly coming too, and in awe of his staying power but remembering that I really shouldn’t be.
He sat up, grabbed me by the waist, and stood up with me still straddling his cock and that is what I like about going back in time. He lifted me effortlessly and picked me up off his cock and carried us down to the water like it was nothing to him. That is something I’ve thought about for years as he walked us into the surf. I couldn’t get over his cock and hung onto it like I was afraid it might go away. I felt like I couldn’t be away from it as I straddled his waist and guided it inside again. Oh, the friction was amazing as I competed with the ocean to see who could be wetter. I rode this hard young man, wondering how many orgasms it would take to finally break him. I was in heaven and didn’t want to leave, but we both wanted more leverage, and he carried me back onto the shore, gently placed me onto all fours, and filled me from behind. I no longer could care about breaking him and suddenly so desperately needed him to break me like only he ever could. With his strong hands anchoring me to him, he drove deeper than I could ever remember him being before. He cock filled the void in my soul that he called home and in his signature pile driving pace he hammered me home. He had me echoing his calls of love as we confessed our love in the fit of orgasm, and when his hot seed filled me, I hoped then like I hoped in this time that his seed would give us what we dared to both hope and deny ourselves. When we crashed into the waves as they rolled onto the beach under us, we confessed our love again soberly and without hesitation or wondering where it was coming from; all we could do was pant, “I love you, I love you, I love you”.
When he gently woke me, he said, “I love you too,” my love and I smiled knowing that I could be thankful for everyone that came before, the hard life he endured, and all of the beautiful baggage we were both blessed with, knowing that he is finally where he belongs. He has finally found the only thing he had ever wanted and searched for: to be accepted and loved for who he is. He is home, he isn’t mine to own, or vice versa, but we give all of ourselves because we each accept it. He asked about my dream with curious, smiling eyes, and I said I’d have to show him. So we managed to arrange a weekend without our big brood of beautiful baggage, and we rented a big Harley and are setting off on a road trip to a little cottage on the beach where we can continue to be as perfectly as we are.
Happy Hump Day!
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