Estrogensensual

He asked me if I liked it hard or soft in his beautiful broken english. I was dumbstruck already because this man was tall, special dark and buckass nekkid. I couldn't even speak and he had to ask me three times before I could even hear him. I was first taken aback because he was nekkid, and secondly, because holy shit, he was fucking nekkid. A tall specimen of a man, broad shouldered, lean and long like a ball player, and did I mention, oh so long that I was immediately damp with imagination. My husband did say that he had something real special planned for me, but this was so much more that this man had me clutching my towel tightly, and weak in the knees, but I digress. My husband had decided to surprise me and book an all inclusive vacation without my knowledge. My husband shocked me with this whole vacation, and I held a healthy amount of trepidation wrapping my mind around the idea of him planning any vacation, much less one at an all inclusive beach style resort. Mainly do t...

  I imagine it is like getting hit by lightning; that feeling of it coursing through your body, your hairs standing on end and I can’t even recall if I exclaimed Shazam or Goddamn! I never think it’s going to be possible, and yet the man always finds the way to give me that high pro glow. You know that orgasm that makes you feel like you levitate off the bed and where your whole body shakes like you're having a grand mal seizure. I go deaf and see stars, and have an out-of-body experience and feel like I’m watching the whole show from over his shoulder. I fear a tsunami that builds and builds in a reversing tide, and I think it’s going to flood and burst forward and drown the poor man. My orgasms rarely ever explode like I think they’re going to, but it definitely feels like they do. It’s not the game changer climax, but the game ending one, my nipples invert, my clit tries to jump off my body, and there is no coming back from it, and I’m lucky if I can manage to get up to rinse or...

It’s the way he eats me. The only way that I can describe it is by making the comparison to that food that you’d lie, cheat or steal for. The kind you hide behind a roll of stamps in your desk, or behind bags of frozen vegetables in the freezer. You know, the kind you will eat first thing in the morning in a dark corner of the garage like a crackhead or drive any distance and by yourself because you don’t want to share, all while the needle of your fuel indicator is buried in the red, but can wait even though you’d just passed three stations on your way. I’m running this into the ground here, but that food you will dig out from your bra like it’s a nugget of gold after even the smallest of morsels escapes your greedy mouth and burrows between your boobs for safety. Well you get the point; that is him, and I’m not even sure that I need to be here for it. Of course I’m kidding because I know what it is about eating me that really turns him on. Man, there is no better of a goal in my life...