Category Archives: Sex

East Coast


Lana Del Rey West Coast
The night is sultry
The night is sultry

Our eyes are lovely
Our hearts are hungry

Under the stars
Blanket of stars

The city lights
Washington Heights

Vanilla skin
Vanilla skin

Melts on mine
Swells on mine

A slow chorus
A slow chorus

Freshly fine
Every time

-Pennington©

Nymphomaniac


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It’s wonderful, in my opinion, to see how much of myself I could relate to in the character of the film Nymphomaniac throughout both volumes, from growing up and taking charge of every decision, single-handedly based on her terms, her rebellious nature, her moments of aloofness, her philosophy of lust and her avoidance of love, her emotions being thrown like a whirlwind into the act of sex, her destructions of interpersonal relationships, her views on society and how humanity can be summed up in one word:  Hypocrisy.

So much of me, belong to this character and it astonishes me that a director has taken the time to put together the story of this woman who I look at as a heroine.  I never once pitied or judged her although she managed to critique herself harshly and understandably so.  But what I do take away from the film itself is, in society, I think people are given two choices.  The first is you could play the game based on the terms and conditions of society as long as you’re faking happy to keep the image of conformity intact.  Or the second:  You can be an outcast.

I think her struggles are very real and of course society doesn’t let up on the notions of how she should behave, for instance when one of her bosses demanded she get help for her sexual addiction.  Its constant questioning, steady debating on what’s right, what’s wrong and according to whom?  The beauty is in how she stands up for herself in her ball of strong integrity despite the gnawing loneliness she possesses or those in the path looking to disgrace her light whether done subtle or forwardly.

She fights for herself because to put it simply it’s about survival.

-Pennington

Nymphomaniac Vol 1


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“Perhaps the only difference between me and other people is that I’ve always demanded more from the sunset.  More spectacular colors when the sun hit the horizon.  That’s perhaps my only sin.”

-Nymphomaniac Vol 1

I’m in It: the Gym and I Can’t Get Out!


Dead It!
I had these crazy doubts after the shift in hormones over the course of a few months.  I felt like I was held hostage by life for a moment while I struggled to regain my whole self again.  It’s now safe to say I’m no longer tear-jerking myself over Grey Anatomy episodes or telling my Partner in Crime I want to marry him as soon as possible.  I may be back to what I know as my normal self, the kind who does none of what I just mentioned.

Okay so my body’s chemistry threw me for a loop and for a long period of time I thought I would just continue getting fat while losing hard-earned muscle.  I thought I would continue eating sugar and wanting to make out with Coke and Tang on a regular basis.  I thought I would never be motivated to workout once more let alone find my inner beast to blaze me back up.

Then one night I said, “Fuck it!” and decided on Monday cardio, and on Tuesday I did even more cardio, except I refused to be a cardio bunny and leave the gym without caressing and groping the weights.  Training arms seemed like a good place to start to see if I could get over my foolish uncertainties of being a weightlifter again.

I wrapped my hand around the dumbbell and performed a One-arm Overhead Tricep Extension and the motion flowed gracefully and every rep became about cherishing each contraction and cherishing the blood surging through my veins and cherishing the pleasant out-and-in-and-in-and-out body experience.  Without a second thought I moved right into barbell bicep curls and lifted the weight passionately as everything I put my heart into.

All in all it came back to me like riding a bike and I couldn’t ask for anything else to accompany me in this moment.  I became alive as day and any thought of pacing myself with exercises, equipment, reps or poundage went right out the gym entrance along with every one of my insecurities and qualms.  I was back at my one true home!

From school I started to head straight to the gym and in my mind I’m in a dark corner in the center of the room because my ego places me there.  I have an imaginary audience yet I tune out the real life folks all around me in the gym like an awful lecture coming from a married-in uncle who tried to molest me once upon of time by cold lust. I.  Just.  Tune.  Everything.  The. Fuck.  Out.

The music that was blaring in my headphones suddenly vanished once I positioned my feet under the barbell square in the middle with a stance almost narrow.  I make no fancy flailing or martial arm movements and I make no thunder roar like a powerlifter.  I remain powerfully silent, looking at both sides from where the stained rings are on the barbell steel and with one hand over and the other hand under I roll the bar so it pushes the excess accumulated calluses towards the rest of my palm so it fits snugly to one side and won’t rip open.

I look straight at the mirror but I don’t even see myself in it. I can see clothes. I can see broad shoulders.  I can feel glorious energy multiplying.  But it’s time to get into that low squat and it’s time to pull the barbell up and on my shins, time to maintain focus to deadlift with my traps, lats and entire posterior chain on mental command so my body does exactly what I desire.  I nail it.  I nail it.  I nail it.  I nail it over and over and over again.  I’m happy like a kid in a candy store like a woman who just achieved her first orgasm by the tongue of a man like a fat kid with a buffet of food.  HAPPY!

At certain moments I pulled and held my breath and then I started to see myself in the mirror.  I could see how ugly I look with a deadly mixture between being a woman, a man and a beast.  I felt my abdominals cave in and tighten itself within as if I were about to get hit by a baseball bat and I continued pulling.  During one of the reps I felt pain bordering by the side of my spine and my mind in quick fear blinked the word danger.

I felt my fingers fatigued and go into a frozen state while my forearm stiffened like I imagine a snake’s body would if it were to be lit by fire and around a tree bark or some human’s neck holding on for treasured life.  I felt my body like this many times before trying to go against me by breaking form.

And all I know is this is how I feel like when I’m all up in Kanye West’s song when he says, “I’m in it and I can’t get out” except he’s talking about orgasms and the lovely things that come along with sex.  However that’s exactly how I feel.

I’m in it and I can’t get out of the gym because it’s my strength and my therapy.  It’s my happy place, my go-to home!  The gym is where I go to deal and/or get rid of my doubts and concerns.  The gym is the place where I continue to forge my character.  The gym gives me my sanity back.  It’s my constant haven, not to mention it’s an orgasm away from an actual orgasm.

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Thankfully! :D

-Pennington

Perspective inside a Perspective


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I’m tired of masturbating to him.

I wonder if it’s true, what he vaguely alleged, if I’d be able to overlook his emotional debuts and tiny manic moods if we actually had frequent sex?  And the fact remains that this shocked me because I paused more to myself than to him.  This could be a half-truth and this made me feel troubled and by troubled I mean my perspective on this matter had zero perspective on this matter (which calls for this entry).

Where would I be mentally or emotionally say if we had sex continuously for 3 months in the time we decided to get involved?  Where would he be? It’s been brought to my attention time and time again how sex is important to me.  I could live in part-time denial but I’ve been in the process of accepting myself for who I am a lot lately.  So where would my mindset be if we had continuous sex?  See, we only engaged in sex once for 3 pleasant hours:  One month and 12 days ago.  It’s going to be longer because he’s in California now.  (I’m not sure why I’m counting besides the obvious?  This is highly unlike me.  Plus I’m getting sex mighty well from elsewhere as is.) :)

It’s easy to memorize when I decided the next morning after our breaking night, how he said he loved me in the back of an Arab store drinking his sorrows to Sapporo beers as we made out like rebellious teenagers in public with his one hand scaring me as it clenched to my ponytail in a minor dominating matter as he vomited his feelings into the windows of my unready soul.  It’s easy to memorize how I took this time to conclude that through his mourning there’s a form of strong aphrodisiac from both ends, how I’ve been prepared to give my body to him since a year ago.  But the sealing of the deal was on his mother’s birthday, the first anniversary where she’s to represent a higher plane outside of this physical world.

I believe it’s true I’m in this (mostly?) for the physical aspect. But who’s to say I don’t like him deeply from the bottom of my heart.  That I like the way he manages his voluminous lips with Chapstick.  I like the way he takes care of me and massages my hip flexors and stretches me out like a considerate lover in the middle of a training session.  Or how I like the way he mentions his achy childhood stories with freedom and just how stimulated he becomes (like me) with a forty-minute conversation.

Still this relationship is a square of four total people involved.  We’re each affected by what one does or doesn’t do and by what the other person says and doesn’t say.  We’re each living a separate life and out of the four that make the line only three know while one has some idea.  Still this relationship is odd and dysfunctional.  It’s testing me in ways I’ve never been and it makes me feel things I haven’t felt.  I’m connected even when I try to look the other way.  Still this is part of the beauty:  No true reassurance of anything.  (Perhaps I like it this way?  It keeps the illusion of mystery alive.)  It’s following, weaving and it’s swerving.  It’s make a hard left and its turn a soft right.  And all in all it’s partially misleading.

I like that he reminds me of me.  When he pushes away is when I should be coming forward, when he says no he really means yes.  He creates distance when he doesn’t want to relinquish power.  Above all he tests my water, questions my abilities of patience, romance, positivity, fullness, training, learning to let go, being adventurous, swimming out with the other extroverts of life, nature, flowing, not questioning every single thing (because you can), the six senses and human connection.  Within experiencing somebody you experience yourself.

So where was I about masturbating? ;-)

-Pennington

A Gym Rat’s Dream: Bench Make-out!


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When two people have been fancying and aching for identical obsessions with one another for an extended period of time, fantasizing without end, dreaming superior dreams and witlessly idolizing to only approach together becomes a mixture of strong release, beautiful liberation and a relishing of everything feeling right within moments shared.

I was flat on my back on a blue stretching mat; I had just plopped down from wincing at the unbelievable pain of foamrolling and holding the spot on my super tight hamstring from a training session I underwent angrily abusing my body a few nights ago.  Dark Knight came on over to give me more pointers and how to triple the pressure onto these spots.  I did as told for a few minutes and off he went to continue his Chest and Back Training.

Staring at the ceiling, at first creating faces of pain like I misplaced a long lost love when my ears perked up and I listened out for his grunts and how he grinded out every set of every rep with continuous vigorous craze.  It seemed as if my subconscious took over for a flash and I squeezed my legs together tightly as an orgasm contraction and closed my eyes tenderly and started to pant allowing my breathings to turn erratic.

He came around the corner with his gorgeous radiant smile and asked me how my hamstrings was doing while removing the foamroll from underneath me and placing a big bright yellow stability ball under my legs for cute support.  Among the questions, he asked if I had anything else on my mind.  I shot him the infamous zoom eye to the top left corner look with my hands plastered on my forehead running through my hair frenzied and responded with, “I’m turning myself on listening to your groans as you workout.”

On one knee he lunged to the floor (and I’m not sure what he was talking about anymore once he hovered) and tapped kissed me with his voluminous lips.  I kept my eyes open to gaze at him and he did the same.  A few more beautiful tap kisses and I placed my hands on both sides of his face to drag him in as we suckled in bliss and endorphins.

I crunched upwards towards him and eventually had to hold my neck up but as an attentive lover does, he took his own arm once he noticed and filled his arm in place.  Gleefully my hands slid around his big muscular veiny forearms and against the sweat of his layered shirts that stuck onto his football player traps.  His hands lingered on the back of my neck and then he started to lower down to fondle my breast where he felt for a nipple and pinched it with slight effort as my back arched like a cat in freakish heat.

I’m unsure how I got up from the stretching mat, unsure of how we even strolled into the main shadowy weight room.  All I knew is he sat on the bench with the barbell loaded with two 45lb plates on each side and he pulled me to sit with him, our legs on either side of the bench where he innocently kissed my hair, face and neck right to my lips.  We locked in our mouths and I started to listen and feel what was going on:  Pure chemistry.

The noise of suckling lips, hands sliding the world of bodies.  The moans of desire cascaded on each other’s faces, the eye contact of fury and eyes closed in sensational delight.  The teasing of his kisses where he would open his mouth but not dart his tongue directly into mine all led me to flow with him like a moral story.

What I enjoyed the most was how we both had on sweat and damp clothing from our workouts: I had set out for my many rounds of heavy bag kicks, knees and core work while he gave his body away to monstrous giant sets.  But our funks didn’t matter.  I believe it’s what gave us another beautiful edge.

And I allowed him freely to massage my breasts together from above fabric while he rubbed my fiery nipples.  Then every now and again he would pull me in by the waist as my hands rubbed on his towering chest pinching his nipples from both over and under his shirt.  Then our hands made its way below the waist where he placed my hand on his member and his hands went under my sweat pants above my panty where he played with my clitoris and soothe me by cupping half my face along with words and making “mmming” sounds when he enjoyed my reactions.

Continuing the heat of the moment I unleashed my breasts from the bottom side of the bra as he said he wanted me to cum for him.  But I was scared and paranoid after hours at the gym where I work when his head dropped quickly to lick my nipple in wonderful fashion.  I held onto his bald head for a moment and squirmed for the next.

And in the beauty of this kissing session on the bench, in the dark weight room with one office light on in the corner for slight moonlighting I couldn’t finish what I started and than somehow I got up and went to spot him on the same bench.  I continued to watch him work his ass off while whispering to myself how I need to be on his elite training level.

We broke night, walked many blocks around the chilly city, stared at architectural designs and eventually enjoyed each other’s company and laughter from the heart at a diner eating breakfast.

But that bench, those kisses and him, felt eternal just like the power of the present.

-Pennington

Triangles, Love & Questions


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I never had been the type to question myself as much as I do now, now that I’m older and fitting better appropriately to myself each year like a leather glove.  It’s like I want to trip over some imaginary line made out of confusion.  I’m unsure why?  Except that this might have to do with the fact that I’m human?  Still for the life of me I became faithful to writing on paper four simple words (and then some at the age of twelve) “life is too concise” to idly wait and not commit to a straight decision.

I miss the days of being cutthroat, of actually not giving a fuck here and there and in whatever which way.

I’ve always had a fascination with the shapes of triangles that come in the forms of love & romance.  So much so I seek out television shows and novels that have these captivating triangles to suck me in along with my entire will.  So much so that once again I find myself in the middle of two great men.  One is Golden Prince also known as my Partner in Crime who I’ve been in a relationship with for a decade.  Five of those years have been exclusive and completely for him.  The next five years I’ve been dating openly on and off.

The other is Dark Knight also known as the biggest crush I’ve had in the time I’ve existed on this planet.  One year later I finally got him in an odd (but not really) way of how the circle of season came around fully to form and solidify a ring, to deepen the bond that took place long ago.  We’re currently riding the wave of new.  However he comes with his own triangle and he’s in the middle of me and his live-in girlfriend of nearly a decade.

Generally speaking I always want my cake and to be able to eat it too.  (Nevertheless I play fair.)  Golden Prince has allowed me to do both and for this I’m forever grateful.  He’s the first man I’ve ever truly love and I fell in love with him at first sight 10 years ago.  He has my heart and over the decade I’ve been loyal to him in every single way possible (for you monogamous people, well, every way except in this manner at certain times).

Golden Prince can no longer deal with the fact that I’m dating other people and rightfully so being he wants a closed relationship.  I wouldn’t ask him to stay and I don’t expect him to.  I did tell him he could date other people (he refuses).  But more importantly I don’t lie to him and I keep him up to date about everything even when it pains him and in return affects me even when it comes to subtle or not-so-subtle forms of punishment.  The truth is we are at the point where things are unhealthy for the both of us mentally, emotionally and spiritually.  He has lashed out and has poisoned whatever newly found happiness I’ve enjoyed.

It’s already been stated many times how I’m not ready to be monogamous yet (if ever) again.  Now I’m on this journey with Dark Knight and I take all types of pleasure in it very much (although subject to change because we’re still beginning).  But I haven’t given thought to even being monogamous to Knight.  Although we are officially dating.  Aside from this this is far from the whole story but these questions remain and are what follow:  How do I give up my love of 10 years?  Am I making the worst decision of my life?  Continuing to have my cake while the man I devoted a part of my lifetime to slips away in the background?

I’m unable to think clearly because I’ve been restricting my thoughts and time and feelings because I don’t want to prolong the hurt of Golden Prince.  (Yes, he reads my Blogs and Twitter.)  As of right now I can’t tell if I’m actually falling for Dark Knight although I sense a fullness of positivity, bliss, love and satisfaction for my life nowadays.  I’m questioning if it’s even possible to emotionally and mentally love two people at once?  I believe you can physically/sexually love a variety of people. But to be in love with two people at once, is this possible (aside from bearing children)?

In actuality if Golden Prince would stay and allow himself to continue being with me in a nonexclusive relationship I would continue to be devoted and loyal as I’ve always been.  I’d be monogamous in an unconventional way, but monogamous nonetheless because this is what I’ve been doing for the past 5 years now.  (I only date when someone peaks my interest.)  To make it clear I am not choosing Dark Knight over Golden Prince and I’ve even expressed this to Knight since he also knows my situation.  And although I never want to walk away, it seems Golden Prince is taking the leap and being the bigger person to sacrifice our love so my current happiness can be worthwhile.

I mean, how could I not love him?  How could anyone walk away from someone so rare and special?  Regardless of the innumerable resentments, immaturity, lack of life perspective/experience and differences we have and share collectively and individually?

On the flip side:  I feel like maybe this is life’s way of saying that perhaps this decade should move on and if we really are meant to be the universe itself will know exactly what to do to bring us back together again because everything comes full circle.  I believe one of the truths also is none of us knows how to let the other go.

Signing off, Pennington.

Mammoth Crush: Dark Knight 2


Dark Knight

Here’s the first part.

During the months to come I was consumed to have my Dark Knight more than ever because rejection fuels me. The universe fueled me in its spinning axis and I couldn’t find a way to let go. Eventually I decided to embark on a Desire Spell in February on the coming of a new bright moon with hopes and dreams of overcoming this mammoth crush. I rubbed the candle with all my energy, heart and focus. I made love to myself on the floor while menstruating and took the blood and smeared it with our names already inscribed by a knife and chanted my hearts desire over and over again until I felt all was sealed. I ended it off with the most important words: If it’s not meant to be than don’t allow it to ever happen.

In April I thought of Dark Knight, I thought of the desire spell and how it had a year to work. However I transitioned my thinking into more positives and being productive in my waking life all the while burying my emotions for this man. Fast-forward and the summer months zipped by and now I could finally bear to look him in his face without an ounce of feeling washing over me unlike last January when I cried wanting to spend New Year’s with him. Fall was rolling on in quick and just about the same time of year when we spent much time together, the binding circle. By September his attitude changed drastically and he flirted with me in front of others unveiled and freely.

Within long hallways in front of gym members and coworkers he would hug me 3 times in a row, reaching out to grasp my clothing and pull like a kid who whined at mama for attention. This time around his “thanking me’s” were on a rich personal level during my moments of high-intensity cardio and he would randomly text me asking me if I were okay when I posted Facebook statuses of uneasiness or male stalkers. I had tiny wonders about his new stance but knew better than to fall for his hot and coldness. Then one night he kept smiled and looked me deeply in the eyes and said, “I had a dream about you, it was very sensual, and the entire dream had a real big impact on me.”

Once October came about everything changed completely, all the coworkers planned to go to a 5-star restaurant to celebrate the weekend life and when I asked Dark Knight if he was also coming along he stated with his ace of a smile beaming, “If you’re going, I’ll go.” I smiled and once again never took him seriously. But pondered when I got dressed up in an orange floral fitted blouse with a short loose skirt and pointed flats where he stared at me and stood speechless and wanted to say something more but stood on reserve and I in suspense.

In the dim steakhouse restaurant tension was building. Silently I saw my coworkers arguing with the grimaces of whose share the check was as I entertained others while they entertained me. I observed strangers walking by ogling my breasts which sat on the table while I sipped from multiple drinks as Mr. Dark Knight came to sit next to me and came clean about the past and he’s been in denial of his feelings for me for a very long time.

By the time we went to the pizza shop with half the crew we started at the beginning of the night and before the strip club he poured into my eyes with his chocolate almonds profoundly with the talk of if I wanted to get involved without labels while I puffed on a cigarette only to get more of a buzz from his words. I was in total disbelief but said yes.

And in the middle of naked women dancing, crowded room, bass booming, feeding cake, mooning people accidentally with my striped sporty green panty and in between Dark Knight’s clients who wanted to grope my breasts, swiping cards for drinks, drinks and more drinks, engaging in conversations with dirty old men, the best part was holding hands in the back of the cab secretly with Dark Knight away from everyone. The look and smile in his eyes were amazing with a sense of relief.

More barhopping and more drinks later everyone left one by one and it was just me and him vibing, his hand on my thigh, my eyes to the left right and middle of him. We closed down the bars on the blocks and broke night walking the city streets and my drunkenness died. He asked me to spend the night at his house but I knew if I did I would regret it more than if I didn’t. I wanted things to feel right and that didn’t. So on I went home in a cab where he called me and asked me nicely to touch myself while he touched himself. I was so nervous I couldn’t bring myself to an orgasm.

The next day when all the sober lit up my world and the disbelief quiet down until mere disappearance the question became, “Could I get truly involved with someone I idolize?”

P.S.

Should I write more about his story?

-Pennington

The Affair of Coworkers


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I go to work and perform repetitive duties.  All around me, for the most part, I see the matching dire attitude and hopeless behavior.  I see worn out characters attached to a status of a title and zombie-like conformity in their soulless eyes.  There is no beauty ladies and gentleman, there is no savior.

I see the same faces, and to some I cringe in an imaginary mode of arthritis and to some I overlook their presence like a Debbie-downer and others I welcome to the stage an infamous sun-beaming smile to deter blurs.  I preserve a high guard but play each and every card hard.

These scripted actors and actresses live outside their personal lives and live their personal lives with a past due account.  They’re miserable looking for a way out of their life debt with the company of tequila, marijuana and shameless sex with one another.  They’re all parasite routs.

I’m lost with how I became caught up in wearing nail polish because my female coworkers are in the midst of a competition I don’t fully comprehend.  I don’t make up well.  I rather hold on tightly to my personality than exist catty.  I guess it’s why I have nil lady friends.

I flirt with the crowd all day.  Young and old, fat or thin, dork or douche, I light the world of their features and make them red and forget the next word that was to come out their meek mouths.  And what confident woman doesn’t enjoy the feeling of being well-endowed?

Than when I turn my back there’s a callous jealous cunt waiting for the right moment to knock me off my pedestal.  But the odd thing is I know in return there’s this sickness unfathomable in her chemicals of wanting to lick away at my pussy.  I find all of this and more fairly amusing.

-Pennington©

Erotica: Meltdown


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I would undress for him at a snail’s pace because that was part of his personality that ached. He took pleasure in time because it’s all he had in the world, particularly when I would stand in front of him, nude and unmistakably transparent, offering every part of this body of mine.

He sat with a calm edge on the black chair taking in the view; an expression throughout his face went about, a sigh of silent relief and reached for me like a sculpture of a goddess with his sensible fingertips. And what stuck out to me the most was just how amused he was by my full breasts and how he would open his mouth and lick his voluminous lips like some kind of wily crook. With packed intention and strange focus in his eyes I felt his burning desire right on the nerves of my nipples. I felt exactly how he wanted me to feel aroused and as if his soaked tongue had already curled up into the pleasure-button at the center of my breast.

I couldn’t help it; this form of teasing enthralled me within its sweet sweet torture. It excited me greatly and the wetness couldn’t be contained, my pussy blossomed more and more and the moisture continued to slip out my outer lips making me both embarrassed and flushed. Why hasn’t he touched me yet but with his look I cried in horrible silence? The skin on my body yearned for his touch, I felt water swarming in my eyes and my heart hammered in every part of my limbs. I couldn’t hide my chest or control my breaths from rising and falling. I became deeply transparent and here I stood in front of his growing magic.

He woke me out my thoughts and sentiments by letting his desire loiter throughout my entire flesh and pinpointed his fire heavily through my bosoms. He took them into his hands and kneaded them like loaf taking turns with both to circulate the blood in its entire dough of roundness than pluck upon my nipples kindly to make them respond in frenzied vibrations. He would pinch them upwards and outwards and down with sincerity to make them flattering straight until they stood like tips of pointed arrows staring at his pupils wanting to assault him.

It’s what he ached for, I could hear it in each time he plucked and pinched me how he moaned agreeably and hummed to the rhythm of his own touch than to the rhythm of my own lively body. His hands opened up similar to a promise and caressed me in every delicate technique imaginable and in every inch, of every line, of every beauty mark, of every developed callus, of every pore and every blemish he left not one undiscovered. I shivered as if this foreplay was my first time and buckled in my knees and became bowlegged. It felt almost helpless, the way my body stood in a fire and my nipples cried out in a fury while my wetness treaded jumpy down my legs. I wanted to scream loud enough for the entire city to hear: PLEASE JUST FUCKING TASTE ME ALREADY!

I gasped and tripped forward, my breasts dangling like chandeliers right before his hazel eyes when he pulled me in, a bear-hug around my lower back inching me closer and into that black chair. His face buried in my breasts, he groaned sensationally as he rubbed his brows, eyes, nose, cheeks, lips and chin in between and around them. My eyes widened, he must have heard my call and he slid his thick lips and kissed and sucked my sizzling skin, neck and clavicle. The suction noises he made drove me insane but crazed was how he made sure to avoid my nipples. Why? Why? Why for these pleasure-buttons are hurting in horny ferocity?

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But than he inched me back and stuck out his tongue while his hands held my forearms heavy to keep me in place and he poked my nipple with the tip of it. Poke, poke and poke than switched to the other, poke, poke, poke. I glanced down at him in a state of fascination and wept inside my vagina. My areola shrank in size and his tongue went back on my nipple and varied on multiple pressures and stiff licks to make sure my nipple would move a tad during action.

I almost died surrounded by the commotion of every physical sensation. My body I couldn’t keep from moving but he held down my arms and squeezed the life out of my wrists if I thought about getting out of hand and by this point he sucked slowly outwards letting his tongue twirl as he let go only to come back for more. Than he sat me on his lap in a riding position and he growled a loud moan and voiced, “How could you be this wet for me naughty woman? How could you be comfortable to smear all this pussy juice on my legs? I believe I’m in love with you” and engulfed me he did in a firework make-out session.

To be continued..

-Pennington©