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Miss You
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
MISS YOU
I miss you so much. You did not come to me last night. I can
bear it no longer and am pounding at your door. I push it open and
stride into your room. You are asleep on your bed, lying there in
your merry widow lingerie, your round rump thrust into the air. I
gasp at your beauty that casts a spell over me even as you sleep.
Your eyes open as I enter the room and you look up
inquiringly. "What are you doing here?", you ask. In answer, I jump
up onto the bed beside you and clutch you to me, squashing your
full breasts against my chest, and bruising your pouty lips with a
crushing kiss. Your sweet breath fills my nostrils and the tip of
your tongue tickles mine. This is what I have been missing, the
warm clutch of your hug as your arms encircle me with your love.
We lie luxuriating in the tenderness of the moment, knowing
full well that it is but the prelude to the storm of passion. For
I can feel my hardness slowly rising, inch by inch, against the
strictures of my underwear until the tightness begs for release.
Surely you must be aware of it too as it presses against your
belly. Yes, you are, for you look at me knowingly and smile.
"You have a little problem there, my darling," you whisper and
as you speak, your hand, soft as a little bird, slips down to my
fly and slowly pulls down the zipper. In it slips and gently and
carefully encircles my member, swollen yet forced into an
uncomfortable bend by the tightness of my jeans. You fish it out,
release into the air, and it springs out to its true length, which,
without going into crude detail, is quite worthy of attention.
And that is just what you give it, my darling, your full and
undivided attention, for the next while, first looking at it almost
in wonder at its boldness, as it stands there giving its strange
little spasms. You see the first beads of that thin moisture that
precedes the real one to come, and you bend down to lick it off
with that pink snake of a tongue that has given me so much
pleasure.
Then your full, sensuous lips open and you work your jaw as if
in a warm-up for the task at hand. Your white teeth glisten in the
dim glow of the bedside lamp, but I am not afraid of them, for I
know that you will be careful and use them only perhaps to give a
playful nip or two, but not to cause me pain.
One hand cuddles my scrotum and the other encircles my shaft
loosely, those soft hands, so smooth and caressing. You look up at
me, like a little girl almost fearing reproach for your daring, yet
fully knowing that I love what you were about to do to me. Some
women, particularly feminists, have said that men see fellatio as
an act of subservience on the part of women, and for this reason
crave it. No doubt this is the case with some men, as evidenced by
their need to humiliate the women with facefuls of jism, but not
with you and me, my love.
For I am as willing to kneel and worship at your coral-lined
mound of Venus as you are to take my turgid shaft into your
voracious mouth, and between us there is no question of humiliation
or subjection.
But enough philosophy. What sort of man am I who can digress
in such a manner when the most beautiful girl in the world is
leaning down over my lower abdomen, tickling me with her long hair
draped like a tent over my tent-pole?
Oh, God, such ecstasy as your mouth slips slowly down. Your
lips exert a suction all around the rim of my cock, which by now is
beyond itself in its impatience, taking on a life of its own as it
seeks fulfillment and thrusts into your oral cavity. In, in, it
thrusts and you do not draw away, but rather bend down to meet it,
taking it down, down, down until your very lips meet the thatch of
my pubic hair. As I peek down, I see you wrinkle that cute little
nose of yours and I realize that my hair has tickled it.
For I must admit to a weakness, that of loving to watch you at
work (or is it play?) on my shaft. Does that mean that in spite of
my fine words, I like to see you in a submissive position to me
after all? To be perfectly honest, I don't know, and one thing is
certain, I am not going to worry about it now....
No, I am going to concentrate on enjoying your ministrations,
and that is not a difficult task. In fact, it would be impossible
to ignore the bliss that I am feeling, as your warm, moist mouth
slides up and down the length of my penis. Occasionally, you look
up at me, let me escape from your lips, and smile, as if you know
the joy you are bringing me.
But I know, too, that the feel of my strength in your mouth is
not leaving you completely unaffected, for your eyes have glazed
and there is a slackness to your face, as if you are surrendering
to an emotion beyond your control.
As if to ascertain what you are feeling, I let my hand drop
down around that round rump of yours and feel your nether lips from
the rear. Oh, bliss, there is a moisture there that lets my fingers
slip in without impediment, a warm shower of your inner juices and
a symbol of your love.
I know that I can take no more of your mouth on me without
exploding, and when you scream out, "Put it in me, put it in me!",
I lay you on your back and slip between those already moistened
thighs. You clasp me to you, your legs coming up around my back,
and I drive hard into you with all my pent-up feeling.
You come in mighty upward lurches of your pelvis, and your
cunt muscles encircle and suck me in to your warm, blissful depths.
I give thanks that I have brought you to your satisfaction, for I
could not have borne another moment of this ecstasy.
I collapse upon you, shooting great spurts of jism high into
you, surely, I think to myself, up to that very throat which only
moments ago engulfed my then hard, thrusting member.
But now it is no longer hard and thrusting, and you, the
woman, have conquered again, reducing my proud masculinity to a
poor, limp, gelatinous worm. It must have been a man who wrote the
famous line about every animal being sad after coitus.
Yet, as I fall asleep beside you I am not too sad, for I am
confident that my poor little worm will live to rise again to give
us both pleasure.
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