We were in the kitchen, and he had the bag of Oreos, and I’d reached for one, but there was only one left, so I backed off, but he said “no, come here,” and I thought he was going to give it to me, but he took the cookie and unscrewed it and put it up to his face, using his teeth to scrape the creamy filling into his mouth. Then he crooked his finger at me just like Johnny did to Baby in Dirty Dancing, except he didn’t want to dance with me, he wanted to kiss me and transfer the creamy filling into my mouth like we were snowballing cum. Only instead of it being salty like cum, it was sweet like Oreo cream because of course it was Oreo cream. And I laughed at his goofiness and the deliciousness of his act, the sheer playfulness of the man.
"You have forever transformed my nostalgic associations of this innocent childhood treat into an erotic memory," I told him, smiling, after I swallowed his gift.
"That’s me, baby," he retorted sassily. "I am one erotic muthafucka. You ain’t seen the half of what I can do yet."
I quiver at the thought.
We did it like this, me on my back, him lifting my legs high so that my ass went up a bit so he could impale himself in my backside, take the road less traveled. The feeling was so good. I looked up at him and fell even further in love with this man, hoping he’d continue to be at least partly mine until the end of time.
He’s taken me like this so often I’ve lost count of how many times it’s been. Well, not the pillow under my tummy business, nor the hands cupping my neck and chin part. But still. The positioning of our bodies, him coming at me from behind to slide into my behind, the joining together, his cock nudging my tight hole open slowly, his voice reminding me to let him know when my anal ring had adjusted enough that he could thrust in deep. Those kinds of things. And then me grabbing hold of the back of the sofa, holding on for dear life as he repeatedly slams his powerful body against my softer one, his furry warm thighs caressing my full buttocks, his pelvic bone hitting my tailbone, leaving it tender for days after we’ve mated. My ass cheeks and breasts jiggling like crazy as he ruts in me, and the groan of release he gives if he cums whilst sheathed in me. I can’t wait for him to do it again. For us to do it again.
(Source: dominant88, via forbiddenfreak)
Confession time: I’ve always had kind of a “thing” for Tarzan.
This is a scene from “Tarzan and His Mate,” which was a very steamy movie for 1934, you know! Jane skinny-dips in this scene (yes, and she’s really naked; this was before the Motion Picture Production Code censorship guidelines) - and elsewhere in the movie it’s heavily implied that she and Tarzan enjoy passionate love-making. Then, Tarzan wrestles a lion for her.
Even though there are parts that might make modern audiences cringe (the lion appears to be fine, but this was before the ASPCA monitored animal action in films) - if you’re a fan of sweeping epics from this era of film, or even just interested in movie history, “Tarzan and His Mate” has a lot to offer. (This is also the first time I’ve posted anything containing nudity… but it may not be the last.)
We spent the last few days watching Tarzan films. And fucking.
He told me laughingly as we sat on the sofa together, “These movies make me horny,” and his stiff cock provided ample evidence of the truth of his words. They made me horny, too. I liked Jane’s loving ways with the King of the Jungle. I can relate to the lady’s attitude, y’know? The heck with civilization.
I don’t care how much you trust your husband. The face you kissed before going to work is the face I’m about to grind my pussy on.
The caption and photo turn me on in ways I would never have believed possible twenty years ago. But I am not the same woman I was then. I have to admit that I love married men, and I get a thrill making love to them knowing that an awful lot of people would find me wicked as a result.
Different strokes for different folks. I’ve been with a marvelous slut who wears a cage. And I’ve done pegging sans chastity devices too. If my partner’s happy, I’m happy.
I suppose you might call that my bottom line.
(Source: cuckoldingnl, via thesubbyhubbyt)
This quotation is for him. The Romantic. I worry about him because he’s under a shit ton of pressure all the time, and it’s slowly killing him. I wish I could just kidnap him and give him a chance to relax. In his big shower, with me seated at his feet so that he could face me and drop his cock low enough for me to lick and suck and gag upon with my loving mouth. And then he could turn around so I could feast upon his furry ass, rimming him while the hot water poured down on both of us.
Eventually, though, I’d have to wave goodbye to him and watch him head off to work. But that’s okay, because he really loves his work. He loves it so much he’s not retired, even though he could have done so already. He wants to work as long as they’ll let him, he enjoys it so much. It’s the other stuff, the bullshit that is eating away at him on an almost daily basis, that I want to see him give up.
He’s not alone, either. There are a bunch of guys who suffer the same fate. I wish they could all be relieved of the stress and enjoy life. Because it’s danged precious and all too short.
When we had the baby grand piano, I used to play this song all the time. “It’s my go-to piece,” I told him, delighted beyond measure that he’d thought to share it with me.
"You’re my go-to piece," he informed me, and I giggled and felt my panties cream a little at the notion.
Every time - and I do mean EVERY time - I stumbled upon my beloved teenaged children watching Game of Thrones, there was a sex scene on the television screen. Crazy. They swear that I have the worst timing ever, that there’s all sorts of other action in the show, like swordfights and such, but you sure couldn’t prove that by me. As far as I could tell, it was a nonstop fuckathon.
Not that I object to such a thing. I gotta say, this one scene in particular makes me happy. Still, it’s kind of awkward watching it with your kids.
Just call me Mother of Dragons.
(Source: stormborndaenerystargaryen, via captainhornyvirgin)
It’s only been a month and a couple of days since I first laid eyes on him. He’s fucked me seven ways from Sunday, made me laugh harder than any man on earth. I’ve gladly surrendered both my anal virginity and my heart to him.
We’ve been apart the past week, and I’m suffering. But it looks like I’m not alone in caring. Tonight he texted me. “Miss you terrible. I see you at every turn.”
(Source: terrideekitty, via herchammer)