Do you usually feel you are better at sex than your partner(s)?
Blue striped adjustable loungers lay decadently discarded across lush lawns, the pattern indiscernible except for the direction of focus: the pool, sun-soaked and sparkling, wantonly inviting, laid out like a seductress beckoning. The chairs strewn around her waters are like so many articles of clothing, abandoned where e’er they may fall en route to pleasure.
And pleasures we find.
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{This is PART THREE of three. Click the links for PART ONE ♦ PART TWO}
It was cool for July, but the sweltering between my thighs was all the heat we needed, and the fire we felt for each other kept us warm.
I lay on my back, eyes half-closed against the bright-on-dark chiaroscuro of the interior bedroom, reveling in the cool air kissing the sweat off my skin while my pussy trembled with pleasure.
He lay along my side, his stiff cock pressing against my outer thigh, his head resting on my breast.
And then, with a look of devilish desire, he plunged his fingers into my sex-slick cunt, put his mouth on my nipple…
And sucked.
{Continued from PART ONE}
I have always been protective of my core. It is a learned behavior, and a necessary one, because I am ticklish.
I am ticklish, sometimes to the point of pain, and I cannot endure feathery touches. Even extremely firm touches are sometimes unbearable (I see a massage terrorist once a month for physical therapy; read ‘firm’ as ‘agonizing pummelization’), and I have to fortify myself and force myself to relax in order to tolerate that kind of taction.