Mzfatbooty may be spiraling into unchecked sexual abandon. Kissing one lover on the front porch, only to fuck another on the back porch two hours later. Control. There is no such thing.
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You are delicious, like a shiny red apple, like temptation, like innocence. I can be swirled into your fantasy like vanilla extract in cake batter. I want to make erotic films with you — being covered in honey or you pouring whiskey into my mouth and drinking from it like a cup. I want my heels pointed to the ceiling. I want you to rip my panties off. Shove them in my mouth. Split me open like you’re breaking the bindings of a book. Dig in like you would set up camp in my pussy. Make me growl like a stalking animal — make me forget how to talk. Make me speak only in incoherent yes-es and swear words. Let me bite into that skin, taste that flesh, swallow you. Fill me. Drench me. I want it, all that shiny newness. Even now, my mouth is filling with my saliva — my hunger growing. Feed me.
San Tropez golden boy with lacquered hair
This young man. This tasty young man with sweet pink lips that remind me that once, long ago, I liked kissing. And his kisses send me into a tailspin, and I find myself clutching onto his collar to steady myself. He requested that I “dress sexy” for him. My kind of request. I know — from our car tete a tete — that he likes blue. I choose a blue sheer camisole and matching panties with a darker blue lace trim. I pair this with my 7″ stiletto heels.
Today I feel like your ultimate big booty-bisexual-tattooed-married woman-stripper-teacher sex fantasy. Watch out.
While describing the taste of toffee to a friend, I just realized that good toffee tastes like good sex: sweet, rich, and a little salty.
She didn't mind teaching...
So often women chuckle at the skill and passion of younger men. “I don’t want to have to teach my lover”, comes so easily from women’s mouths, you wonder if they have even considered if they believe it. Sometimes, younger men come already knowing how to please, already eager, already full of such virility and intensity that instruction is unnecessary. Or perhaps he is riding the waves of the moment — your collective chemistry — such that you feel innocent and defer to him! I have always had a taste for younger men, they smell so good like baked bread, so it’s no wonder that when I finally got my hands on one it was exactly as I had hoped. Better even.
Dita Von Teese brought the corset back, and I follow her lead
He’s stopping through my city — two, no more than three days. “Will you come visit me in the hotel? I’m still not finished with you,” he breathes into the phone. He pauses a moment. “Wear the corset?” he can hear my smile on the other end. “i’ll let you know when i’m on my way.”
When I hang up, my husband gives me a devilish grin, his green eyes glinting. “i’m taking you first, and sending you to him with my scent on you.” He leads me upstairs and my skin prickles when the door clicks shut. We have guests downstairs and he simply doesn’t give a fuck. He walks briskly towards me and grabs me by the throat. He leads me in this way to the bed.
When he arrives, I’ve barely changed out of my clothes. I have promised him something dirty, something nasty, and its up to me to set the appropriate tone. I have an underused feather plug — a gift from my husband — glossy black ostrich plumes with a shiny black bulb. I put on a white mesh thong, trimmed in black, and insert the plug and descend the stairs. He is most impressed.
So sorry loyal readers (all five of you), I’ve been swamped with non-sexy work for the last year, and despite having many delicious tales to tell, I have had time to commit any of them to paper (or web, whatever). I intend to start sharing my adventures over the last year slowly for you, drawing them out, teasing you, bringing back the sensuousness that defines my sex blog.
