Estrogensensual

When made love to by a man, it should be like an overdose of tryptophan. I mean, it really is debilitating and quite embarrassing sometimes, the way he can put me down. He makes me come at will, and it isn’t just that I wanna sit on the couch and watch the Macy’s Day Parade kind of coma either, but the one where I can’t even hold myself up on all fours and collapse like an overcooked noodle in my own wet spots kind of coma. I guess that can be my special way of giving thanks. Well, if you consider drooling in fetal position and mumbling both thanks and apologies incoherently an adequate form of flattery after a fuck-lobotomy as much of a compliment as he does, but I digress. Thanksgiving has always been his favorite holiday, but after our divorces, we both have found ourselves children-less as our modern-day Brady Bunch is scattered, and we find a whole new way of giving thanks. We don’t entertain at our home and travel instead to nearby family or friends to celebrate, and we pretty m...

You know how scientific reports find that people think that they are better looking than they actually are; well, apparently, the bedroom mirror agrees. What I imagine in my head is always hotter than all get out, but after I saw myself in the mirror, I should consider myself lucky that my wife didn’t just get up and get out. I prefer to remain nearsighted and much rather see what’s on my plate up close than see it through glass anyway. Let’s just say that when I saw myself in the mirror, and if I weren’t busy, I might have run myself, leaving my gorgeous wife in the hands of that Yeti. It was one of those quick peripheral glances, and it reminded me of one of those grainy Bigfoot sighting photos, and it gave me quite the start. I don’t want to get carried away more than I already have with the details because that would be defeating the purpose, but all I’m saying is that a good imagination is apparently a healthy and essential gift, especially for my wife, but I digress. It was a ...

I swear that I’m more like the guy in our relationship, the way he makes me come so easily. Even when I think I have it all under control, and can take him the distance, nope; I’m coming again, and biting at the bit to be able to stay in the game. I can’t help but cry out that I’m coming, while posting my arm against him like a running-back stiff-arming a tackle while tightening my hold on the ball/orgasm to prevent it from getting stripped, or fumbling. All the while his bratty ass is goading me “but why?” and “but I’m not doing anything” as his soul shattering thrusts slow to a crawl, and I look back at him over my shoulder exasperated to see him feigning an obnoxiously naive expression on his face, and all I can do is shake my head and grumble “you’re such a fucking brat”; but I digress. You know how sometimes when you’re so backed up from being so busy with just life, that when you finally get the opportunity to catch up, you make it really obvious. Like that not so nonchalant m...

We were like a couple of high school lovers in heat until the heat got too hot to handle. It was soon after a major category four hurricane dealt us a glancing blow as it rolled up the east coast of Florida that we decided to take a ride over to the beach. It had dropped fifteen degrees after the storm, and we had the whole beach to ourselves as I lay out a blanket and sat down to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight. The wind was just cool enough to instigate some heavy petting, and it wasn’t long before we were thoroughly hot and bothered. We were like two teens in heat, the way we were necking like we might get caught, until she panted that I was going to have a wet spot on my shorts if I kept it up. I rolled over from between her legs, pitching the biggest tent of my own, and sure enough, my Teepee was damp. I was even more turned on by the fact that she was so wet that my hard cock ached to investigate further. She fluffed her shorts around her crotch to cool it down, and I cou...

I don’t have time for this, I tell him, followed by, I’m dirty, thinking that he’d go away. He can be like a child when I’m working from home and equally persistent. He isn’t even deterred when I lie and tell him I think my period is coming, and retorts with, So you’re telling me, 'There is a chance? I laugh as my defenses start to crumble, especially when I see him unflappable even after my menstrual threat. I don’t want to flip-flop, so obviously, but I do need to give him a treat if I’m hoping him to throw me a bone, so I reiterate that I don’t have a lot of time and that he’d need to make it quick. That was all the opening he needed, and as he adjusted his growing appreciation, I couldn’t help but notice that it already dwarfed his equally happy smile, dimples, and all.  I thought I’d have a second to run to the bathroom to freshen up, but as I spun around in my chair, he was already on his knees between mine. Like a pig rooting for truffles, he pulled me to the edge of my...