It’s been thirteen months.
Stretched out on the couch, left hand full of soft moist tit. Her on top, but sidesaddle, getting skewered, expertly controlling the bounce as if it’s too big to take. Like this shaft is something unearthly.
Change positions five times. Pick her up with one arm wrapped around her back, pivot, and lay her down while still inside. Slide out and blast so hard that thighs cramp up. Veins swell. She quivers.
The one. The one who tortures every man in the small hours of the morning. What happened with you is incorruptible. I’ve been with more women than there are US Presidents but it always comes back to you. You’re the one memory in every man’s mind that can’t be deleted. A song of hope burned into his heart that will keep him alive even when his spirit breaks. The last thing he sees at the moment of death. Forged during such a stratospheric neurochemical spike that it will transcend his existence. His great-grandson will be able to recall it in detail.
I miss you. The distance smothered us. Because I’ve spent thirteen months in Korea. And they block porn in Korea.
You. That 19 minute clip on xvideos.com. The confluence of inspired choreography and boffo performances. Not to mention perfection in the makeup and lighting departments. Thirteen months since I’ve seen you. God I miss you so much.