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Horny Corner
It is one of the superstitions of the human mind to have imagined that
virginity could be a virtue.
Voltaire
What makes you Horny ?
There are two forms of lovemaking. Hard lovemaking and soft lovemaking. The hard being the settings and achieving goals. The soft to many is something unfamiliar. It is making use of our abilities of feelings and intuition. Soft does not mean weak, it simply means a balance of all the mind, soul and inner self. The body quickly forgets pain as well as pleasure. The mind does not forget the feelings of pleasure. For whatever reason, we can remember the feelings of pleasure, but forget the feelings of pain, except as with some who also remember emotional pain.
Horny is remembering the wonderful extremes of pleasure. Our bodies start longing for those pleasures again.
"Anything worth doing well is worth doing slowly"
He rolled her over and began to fondle and finger her totally bald dripping pussy.
Kneading the flesh of her swollen pussy lips, probing deep inside, fingers searching, digging. Her back arched as he spread the soft flesh from around her clit, teasing all around the now erect exposed, so sensitive flesh. Her thighs twitching, all the sensual nerves exposed. He spread her legs even wider, fingering deep within her now flowing pussy. Each stroke in and out with fingers passing over her clit. Playing with fingers between her pussy and her clit, heating her up for what has next to come. He did not want her cumming yet, no orgasm for her yet. Her pussy so hot and dripping, but now to get her lips around his cock, and suck it to that stiff, hard, throbbing erection she needs so deeply in her hot, wet pussy. Her lips and tongue now sucking the contours, licking the rising shaft. One thought in her mind, to bring this cock to all it glory, and soon it will slide into my aching pussy and fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me and then I'll suck and lick and suck on it again and get it harder than before, and then demand it fuck me once again. To impale myself upon this hardened cock, and have it as I wish, I suck it with all my lust, devouring it to give me what I need, this stiff hard cock deep and penetrating my aching pussy, pounding naked flesh to wet naked flesh. Can you feel it now deep inside you, hot, wet throbbing cock? Legs spread wide, pushing deep, and deeper. If you want some more, then come here and suck on it again, and if you want more, than get it hard. It's limp right now from fucking you again, but gladly fuck and play with your pussy again, but those hot, licking, sucking lips can make it worthy again. So here I sit, legs spread wide, have you got the energy to suck on it again? Do you want to feel this hard cock inside you again? The come here and let me see you do what you can. It feels so good, your hot, wet, sucking lips around my cock, I can feel it getting hard again, but don't stop yet, and her thoughts, just keep this thing, the more and better I suck this throbbing cock, ……ooohh fuck me, fuck me, fffuuuckkkk meeeee, harder,
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At times like this, she struggled against the urge to touch herself; one part of her mind wanting to but another trying not to encourage the thought's growth. By keeping her fantasies in the past, where they'd both shared them, it was under control. If she allowed herself to come picturing him, imagining the way their bodies would meld, the way they would make each other feel, it could escape and grow. She might find herself saying something inappropriate - or worse, doing it. And the time for that had passed.
She fought against the thought, distracting herself with work; there was enough of it. But the insistent yearning between her thighs continued unabated. She could feel herself getting wetter, which in itself lent more credence to the thought. Her own arousal always aroused her further; it was a whirlpool that sucked her down until she couldn't hold back any longer and had to let herself float away, abandoning all control.
But no. Still, she struggled to keep her head above water. She wouldn't let herself think about him: imagine feeling just a kiss, her lips gently touching his, barely any pressure as they enjoyed that first touch. Close enough to breathe in the scent of the other, to feel the warmth of each other and to give in.
She shook her head, trying to shake off the mental sensation of him returning the barely-perceptible pressure, trying to decide whether to take things further. Then, as their bodies moulded to fit each others' form, thigh against thigh, chest to breast, arms gradually moving up to hold each other closer, they'd kiss harder; still innocent but with a stronger hint of desire.
She could feel herself slipping. She took a deep breath and lit a cigarette, trying to return her attention to the document in front of her but still the image haunted her. His arms strong around her back, gripping slightly now, feeling the taut muscles in her shoulders, releasing the tensions of her day as his hands started to move over her skin, almost bare in the flimsy vest top she wore; hers returning the embrace, sliding up his back to his neck, gently teasing the hairs at the base of his head, pulling him to her as the kiss deepened.
A tongue slipping over lips: neither of them sure whose first, intoxicated by the world they were creating. The kiss, still gentle but teasing now; his tongue running over her lips then hers over his, still not quite daring to enter. A moan escaping her lips, signaling her desire.
A slight push, and their tongues entwining, giving into the kiss now, getting harder and deeper almost to the point of pain, tongues feverish, bodies grinding against each other; his hands moving to her waist, her lips to his neck.
The trembling as he pulled her tightly against him, his arousal obvious against her thigh; her lips moving over his neck, laying a trail from his earlobe to shoulder, eager to taste the salt of his skin. Then the return to his lips, by now the kiss signaling clear intent; her hands running over his body, his sliding underneath the thin cotton of her top, feeling the soft skin of her midriff then moving to her back, tracing his fingers up her spine. Her hands tugging at his belt, pulling his shirt out and sliding her hands up to caress his torso.
And then, the look. That point when they knew, if only for that moment in time, that they both wanted the same thing more than anything else in the world.
She could hold back no longer. Her hand moved inside her top as she imagined him caressing her, his hand creeping slowly over her skin, teasing the underside of her breast before moving, achingly slowly, to her hard nipples.
She moaned as she felt him touch her; first stroking, then rubbing the ball of his thumb over her pert flesh, then pinching, getting harder as she squirmed at his touch.
Her other hand moved between her thighs, pushing her clothes aside to feel the wetness suffusing her. As her finger slid over her clit, slicking her juices over it, she pictured him bending to take her nipple in his mouth, one hand sliding down to plunge into her core.
She shook at his touch, eager for more, eager to be filled but he was making her wait. His hand moved skilfully over her, teasing, playing, making her groan. She was pushing against him, wanting, yearning, sighing but still, he waited. She was shaking with desire, begging him with all but words to take things further.
He teased.
Her muscles were twitching involuntarily. Her mind was devoid of thought. She was sensation and nothing more.
And then, finally, his fingers were inside her, as her own fingers pressed into her wetness. She wanted to feel more but it was too desperate, to urgent for her to get a toy.
He kissed down her body, tongue flicking over her skin; over her breasts, stomach, thighs until he reached her wetness and his tongue darted out to taste her; fleeting, teasing, tempting, making her arch towards him in lust.
She continued to rub herself, feeling the heat, the swelling, the hard/soft sensation of her flesh under her fingers. Her mind was his.
He was aching with lust now. She undid his fly and took him into her hand, loving the way he pulsed at her touch. She could smell him in the air but she wanted to taste him. As she ducked to take him in her mouth, he groaned, signaling how much he loved the way her tongue flicked over him, savoring the taste of the arousal she'd created.
He pushed her back, clearly tempted to let her take things to their natural conclusion but no.
As he bent over her and kissed her hard, sliding himself inside her in one move, she lost herself completely.
“It isn't what I do, but how I do it. It isn't what I say, but how I say it,
and how I look when I do it and say it.” . . .May West
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