You have always had that special voodoo that made my body do whatever you wanted it to. Let me count the ways.
It all starts before you even say a word. Your eyes--with such darkness, intensity and depth. I am captivated and my heart automatically accelerates to hear your call. Your voice--which can range from low and seductive to strong and commanding--makes my ears smile. Your lips, thick and soft, always manages to make music with mine, whether with gentle pecks on the cheeks to long, drawn out passionate kisses. Even your mouth knows the exact amount of suction on the bottom lip to make my toes curl just right.
It was as if you went to a school to study the anatomy of me. Yet, I never gave you a lesson plan.
You weren’t even initially in the plans.
Many years I had gone without the contrast of hard body against my soft frame. I was so brash, thinking to myself, “What this young thang think he can do?” And you were not one to talk about, but to be about it. And be about it you were.
Your tongue and the ring performing all types of circus tricks. Finding arousal points I didn’t know existed; awaking parts of my body that for a while lay dormant or just straight out ignored. It had been so long since I was drunk in, savored; your huge hands, tongue, and lips splattered over the canvas of my body, with no part being left out.
Your fingertips and your tongue are a tag team in pleasure. The fingertips always finding the instant button to make my hills grow into peaks. Your tongue excavating behind my knees, between my thighs. I mini-gasm before you even reach my swollen clit, and they always come rapid fire in ten minutes or less. I curse you and myself under my breath.
With others I usually have greater longevity. Quite a few have failed to make me cum so fast, or even in this way.
But you have a Ph.d. in working my pussy--have me doing octaves, quaking, dashing to get away from you, although it’s pointless because you already have the Kung Fu grip on my thighs. It gets to the point where I beg you to stop licking and plow into me, which is rare.
I usually tone down my excitement once it gets to the penetration. It’s very rare that I cum; with other guys, they are in a hurry; they lack longevity.
Not with you; you have so much self-control of your magic stick. You know which crevices of my cervix to caress. You continuously kiss me, tell me how beautiful I am. You croon how much you love me, talking dirty to me in different languages. You allow me to have the control, though I know I lost it to you a while back. You’re so bold, trying different positions, doing gymnastics all in my twat.
I know you still don’t believe it, but you are the first and only guy that made me come vaginally every single time without fail. It’s like it’s your mission that I cum, even if you don’t. You always made the pleasure about me. A few times, you had me in a cum coma, eyes going to the back of my head, dang near about to pass out.
You never placed any limitations on what it took to please me. I’m so thankful in the way you love. That’s why you are simply the best.