After she gave me her virginity, a fair trade with mine, I have asked:
- Why did you choose doing this with me and not with some guy you liked?
- Because you loved me, was her answer...
The bathroom seems like a pagan temple lit by candles. The bathtub is the holy altar, where the High Priestess performs her duties. She is down on all fours moaning something that seems like a chant. A mantra. Behind her, down on my knees i rhythmically pomp myself into her. With every move the water ripples. Hate that damn noise. Doesn't let me focus. Doesn't let me complete this ancient ceremony. So i am doing it harder, and harder. And with each hard move i hear another sound. A hollow sound. The sound of her head banging on the bathtub. She's moaning in pleasure while banging her head on the metal wall:Don't stop, don't stop!
During our first crisis i said those words that still cause my amazement: How can we broke up? I love you the most and i haven't even made love to you...
After his mutilation she was really eager. Their connection was fading already and the physical pause was too much for a woman her age. Thus when he arrived she didn't wait for him to initiate things as she usually did. That would have taken too long. No. This time she jumped on him, ripping his cloths off, offering her full of desire body to him. She wanted to do it there, at the door, while standing. A quick hard romp. But he was under some sort of shock and was only half answering to her urge... A bit disappointed they moved on the bed, hoping that a more relaxed environment and cooling things down will help with his demeanor. To be more convincing, she went down on him for some oral arguments. Half an hour later, she raised her head in disappointment and loudly stated that he doesn't love her anymore. His answer was harsh in its honesty. I still love you, i just don't feel anything down there anymore. Relieved by his explanation, free of her guilt, she replied: Then why did you let me struggle for half an hour? For hope that i will...
The sad truth is that not any woman knows how to deal with a circumcised man...
She just finished wiping his seed off her chest when the phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen she placed her finger on her lips signaling him not to make a sound. Hi, honey, she answered. From across the country her husband was suspicious that she's having an affair. Which of course she wasn't. Everything was in his jealous little head. Maybe he was having one and had a guilty conscience. Or he was getting paranoid. Relationships are based on trust. He needed to trust her to make it work. She loved him and wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Meanwhile the man in her bed was biting the pillow to prevent himself for laughing out loud. He knew she loves him and couldn't believe what an idiot the other man was to buy all those cliches. Three weeks later she left the both for a third one.
Casual drink among colleagues after work. The usual out of boredom flirts. One glass of wine, a joke, a gossip, a laughter. Eyes that shortly meet eyes. Then another glass. Good music. The others are leaving home. We should leave too, we have work tomorrow. Why, it's still early, how bout we get a bottle of wine and go to your place. Chat some more or watch a movie. Said and done. More wine. Couch is comfy. She touches him for the first time. Grabs his hand. Looks him again in the eye. Time for a kiss he presumes. Said and done. Then the usual routine for such cases. Accelerated breath. A dance of the tongues. One leads, one follows. Hand feeling through the cloths before removing them. Squeezing here, rubbing there, her hand shaking his member in fury. In 15 min his penis is covered in nail wounds. Hurting like hell. Hiding back within his body. Any trace of desire he had it is now gone. What the fuck she says. Don't you wanna do this? Actually i do. So what's the problem, don't you like me? No, it's not that. Then what is it, this is frustrating. She's right. It is. He would actually scream his frustration but all he wants is to see her gone. Pours another glass and tells her i think i had too much to drink... Maybe you should go home. We have work tomorrow. Sad and down.
The first time they got naked together they were young, pure and unaware. She noticed that hard appendix of his, raised up, tensed, begging for attention. She started playing with it, gently rubbing it up and down. While his pleasure was increasing, leading to the awaited explosion, his back arched and his breath accelerated. She didn't stop. Warm waves came out of him, sprinkling out of that flesh fountain. The seed spread all over him. She screamed and jumped up. Scared by his physical reaction. Terrified by his burning orgasm. Eyes wide opened, fixating those sticky stains. While she tried to deal with the reality of masculinity, he tried to deal her horror and disgust. Could you please bring me some tissues some i can clean my self up? She didn't move...
Their desire is desperate. She wants it. She wants it bad. He feels guilty. I could solve you easily he says. I don't want it like that she says. They separate from their embrace.
Waiter brings their coffees. The two women stop their conversation for a second and wait for him to leave. When he's gone, the younger one resumes. So what are you going to do? I'm gonna break up with him. But you said he loves you. He does, but that's not enough. He's lame in bed, doesn't know what to do with me. He will learn. No, he won't. What is exactly that he doesn't do? What is exactly that you want and don't get? I want to be fucked! Hard! I want him to grab me and fuck the brains out of me. To push me towards the wall, to throw me on the floor and force himself into me. To fuck me long and brutal. Like a man. He loves me and respects me. Thus he will never be able to do that. Love is an impediment to good sex. Check please.
"...- So?
- She told me once she always had good sex. Always. When I've asked her how is that even possible she told me she was lucky. Well, her luck ran out with me...
- Why do you think so?
- Because it was bad. Not for me (for me was great), but for her. It was quick (usual excuses: long break, too much desire), i refused her the pose she wanted, we didn't repeat it, didn't discuss it, three days later she broke up with me. Trust me. She didn't get good sex from me.
- Well, i don't know that for sure and neither do you. But what i do know is that she did get a lot of love..."
- Why did you choose doing this with me and not with some guy you liked?
- Because you loved me, was her answer...
The bathroom seems like a pagan temple lit by candles. The bathtub is the holy altar, where the High Priestess performs her duties. She is down on all fours moaning something that seems like a chant. A mantra. Behind her, down on my knees i rhythmically pomp myself into her. With every move the water ripples. Hate that damn noise. Doesn't let me focus. Doesn't let me complete this ancient ceremony. So i am doing it harder, and harder. And with each hard move i hear another sound. A hollow sound. The sound of her head banging on the bathtub. She's moaning in pleasure while banging her head on the metal wall:Don't stop, don't stop!
During our first crisis i said those words that still cause my amazement: How can we broke up? I love you the most and i haven't even made love to you...
After his mutilation she was really eager. Their connection was fading already and the physical pause was too much for a woman her age. Thus when he arrived she didn't wait for him to initiate things as she usually did. That would have taken too long. No. This time she jumped on him, ripping his cloths off, offering her full of desire body to him. She wanted to do it there, at the door, while standing. A quick hard romp. But he was under some sort of shock and was only half answering to her urge... A bit disappointed they moved on the bed, hoping that a more relaxed environment and cooling things down will help with his demeanor. To be more convincing, she went down on him for some oral arguments. Half an hour later, she raised her head in disappointment and loudly stated that he doesn't love her anymore. His answer was harsh in its honesty. I still love you, i just don't feel anything down there anymore. Relieved by his explanation, free of her guilt, she replied: Then why did you let me struggle for half an hour? For hope that i will...
The sad truth is that not any woman knows how to deal with a circumcised man...
She just finished wiping his seed off her chest when the phone rang. Seeing the name on the screen she placed her finger on her lips signaling him not to make a sound. Hi, honey, she answered. From across the country her husband was suspicious that she's having an affair. Which of course she wasn't. Everything was in his jealous little head. Maybe he was having one and had a guilty conscience. Or he was getting paranoid. Relationships are based on trust. He needed to trust her to make it work. She loved him and wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Meanwhile the man in her bed was biting the pillow to prevent himself for laughing out loud. He knew she loves him and couldn't believe what an idiot the other man was to buy all those cliches. Three weeks later she left the both for a third one.
Casual drink among colleagues after work. The usual out of boredom flirts. One glass of wine, a joke, a gossip, a laughter. Eyes that shortly meet eyes. Then another glass. Good music. The others are leaving home. We should leave too, we have work tomorrow. Why, it's still early, how bout we get a bottle of wine and go to your place. Chat some more or watch a movie. Said and done. More wine. Couch is comfy. She touches him for the first time. Grabs his hand. Looks him again in the eye. Time for a kiss he presumes. Said and done. Then the usual routine for such cases. Accelerated breath. A dance of the tongues. One leads, one follows. Hand feeling through the cloths before removing them. Squeezing here, rubbing there, her hand shaking his member in fury. In 15 min his penis is covered in nail wounds. Hurting like hell. Hiding back within his body. Any trace of desire he had it is now gone. What the fuck she says. Don't you wanna do this? Actually i do. So what's the problem, don't you like me? No, it's not that. Then what is it, this is frustrating. She's right. It is. He would actually scream his frustration but all he wants is to see her gone. Pours another glass and tells her i think i had too much to drink... Maybe you should go home. We have work tomorrow. Sad and down.
The first time they got naked together they were young, pure and unaware. She noticed that hard appendix of his, raised up, tensed, begging for attention. She started playing with it, gently rubbing it up and down. While his pleasure was increasing, leading to the awaited explosion, his back arched and his breath accelerated. She didn't stop. Warm waves came out of him, sprinkling out of that flesh fountain. The seed spread all over him. She screamed and jumped up. Scared by his physical reaction. Terrified by his burning orgasm. Eyes wide opened, fixating those sticky stains. While she tried to deal with the reality of masculinity, he tried to deal her horror and disgust. Could you please bring me some tissues some i can clean my self up? She didn't move...
Their desire is desperate. She wants it. She wants it bad. He feels guilty. I could solve you easily he says. I don't want it like that she says. They separate from their embrace.
Waiter brings their coffees. The two women stop their conversation for a second and wait for him to leave. When he's gone, the younger one resumes. So what are you going to do? I'm gonna break up with him. But you said he loves you. He does, but that's not enough. He's lame in bed, doesn't know what to do with me. He will learn. No, he won't. What is exactly that he doesn't do? What is exactly that you want and don't get? I want to be fucked! Hard! I want him to grab me and fuck the brains out of me. To push me towards the wall, to throw me on the floor and force himself into me. To fuck me long and brutal. Like a man. He loves me and respects me. Thus he will never be able to do that. Love is an impediment to good sex. Check please.
"...- So?
- She told me once she always had good sex. Always. When I've asked her how is that even possible she told me she was lucky. Well, her luck ran out with me...
- Why do you think so?
- Because it was bad. Not for me (for me was great), but for her. It was quick (usual excuses: long break, too much desire), i refused her the pose she wanted, we didn't repeat it, didn't discuss it, three days later she broke up with me. Trust me. She didn't get good sex from me.
- Well, i don't know that for sure and neither do you. But what i do know is that she did get a lot of love..."
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