When he enters, playfully snatching my book to see what I’m reading, I can’t help but reach out and grab him. I wrap my arms around his broad chest and hug him tightly to me. My thighs and legs too—enveloping the lower half as well as his broad shoulders, so he’s surrounded by my whole body. This kind of playful intimacy is impossible to separate from the connection I talked about before. I can only do this because I have the kind of certainty that comes from knowing George so well. I understand exactly what it is that will ramp him up from a lazy, cosy Sunday morning mood to one that’s a bit more X-rated. My red manicured nails contrast beautifully with his soft cream dressing gown, and when I reach inside to stroke his chest, then move lower to caress his already-stiffening cock, I am only confirming what I know already. This is going to go in exactlythe direction I’m aiming for.

We kiss deeply with the eagerness and enthusiasm that I’ve always been lucky enough to have, combined with George’s relaxed pace that is a newer revelation. It’s to die for. I wonder why I always used to be in such a rush! Kissing was just a step, or even an obstacle, on the road towards sex: almost perfunctory, like unlocking a door. The unlocking wasn’t important, only what was revealed when you opened it. Nowadays, though, this is part and parcel of the whole thing. Sex doesn’t start where kissing ends. Kissing is sex and sex is kissing. All steps in the exact same dance. The wet, soft, sensual pleasure of his tongue against my lips and the small moans and sighs he lets out as I stroke his exposed skin at the neck of the dressing gown: this is not something I want to rush. He grips my legs and strokes too—enjoying the subtler pleasures of skin-against-skin. This is a man who knows he doesn’t need to hurry to get my clothes off. He tells me “oh yes” as I kiss his neck, and—deliciously—I can feel the pulse of my heart beat in my crotch where I press it against him. That yearning thud gets faster as our kiss grows more intense.....read more

Na wa o this early morning una don start

Leave agbado alone, mba
Now see wetin you don do.

Everything about you is sex sex sex, haba you no get job ?

olowoyo648:
When he enters, playfully snatching my book to see what I’m reading, I can’t help but reach out and grab him. I wrap my arms around his broad chest and hug him tightly to me. My thighs and legs too—enveloping the lower half as well as his broad shoulders, so he’s surrounded by my whole body. This kind of playful intimacy is impossible to separate from the connection I talked about before. I can only do this because I have the kind of certainty that comes from knowing George so well. I understand exactly what it is that will ramp him up from a lazy, cosy Sunday morning mood to one that’s a bit more X-rated. My red manicured nails contrast beautifully with his soft cream dressing gown, and when I reach inside to stroke his chest, then move lower to caress his already-stiffening cock, I am only confirming what I know already. This is going to go in exactlythe direction I’m aiming for.

We kiss deeply with the eagerness and enthusiasm that I’ve always been lucky enough to have, combined with George’s relaxed pace that is a newer revelation. It’s to die for. I wonder why I always used to be in such a rush! Kissing was just a step, or even an obstacle, on the road towards sex: almost perfunctory, like unlocking a door. The unlocking wasn’t important, only what was revealed when you opened it. Nowadays, though, this is part and parcel of the whole thing. Sex doesn’t start where kissing ends. Kissing is sex and sex is kissing. All steps in the exact same dance. The wet, soft, sensual pleasure of his tongue against my lips and the small moans and sighs he lets out as I stroke his exposed skin at the neck of the dressing gown: this is not something I want to rush. He grips my legs and strokes too—enjoying the subtler pleasures of skin-against-skin. This is a man who knows he doesn’t need to hurry to get my clothes off. He tells me “oh yes” as I kiss his neck, and—deliciously—I can feel the pulse of my heart beat in my crotch where I press it against him. That yearning thud gets faster as our kiss grows more intense.....read more

are you the first person