rainbowsparklyzebras asked: Are you willing to do requests? ;)
I welcome attempts to inspire me to write, but I’m probably not good at writing about other people’s kinks.
rainbowsparklyzebras asked: Are you willing to do requests? ;)
I welcome attempts to inspire me to write, but I’m probably not good at writing about other people’s kinks.
X-ART: Inside Perfection
“…any resistance is useless in the face of my hormones, my juices abundant, wet and stringy, my body desperately seeking your cum…”
We’ve been together two years now, in love and in lust. We see eye to eye on so many things it’s scary, and we can and do talk about anything with each other. Until you, I didn’t even imagine my best friend and my lover could be the same person. This has been the happiest time of my life.
The only point of contention between us is babies, and even that’s just a matter of timing. We both want them, at least two and maybe three, about a year apart. But you want to start more or less now, and I think it would be wiser to wait until at least one of our careers advances to the point where we can move out of our crappy little apartment and into a decent house.
I suspect that if the rest of our relationship weren’t so incredible, this would be a source of serious strife. It’s not as if we’re kids any more; I’m 33 and you’re 31, and we’re both aware that your time isn’t infinite. I know we can’t wait much longer for promotions or other opportunities to present themselves.
A complicating factor is that that the idea of baby-making sex turns us both on immensely.
For months, I’ve been overhearing you chat with your girlfriends on the phone. You keep it quiet, even whispering sometimes, but I don’t talk on the phone much, so I guess you couldn’t know how well sound carries over the partition between our cubicles. I try to stay focused on my work, and I like to think of myself as a person who wouldn’t invade someone else’s privacy, but I admit it: when you talk about sex, it gets my attention.
Right now, I’m pretty distracted from the report I’m writing because you’re complaining to one of your friends that you’re in the middle of your cycle and horny as hell and frustrated you have no boyfriend you can pounce. I wouldn’t believe women say these things to each other if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears.
I remember overhearing you mention a few days ago you’re not on birth control, and I feel my cock begin to stir in my pants. I can’t explain why, but knowing a woman is at peak fertility has always turned me on.
We’ve only known each other a couple of weeks, and we’ve only had sex twice before, so I can hardly complain that I need to wear a condom when we fuck. After the last time, you told me you’d be restarting your prescription for birth control pills, but the world we live in requires a doctor to sign off, and I accept that can’t happen instantly.
You surprised me, though, when you complained about the condom. Of course you crave the skin-on-skin contact, but then you told me something I’ve never heard a woman say in the real world: You love cum inside you. Actually, what you said was “I love sperm in my pussy. Feels awesome.” Damn. I already thought you were hot, but now?
Anyway, I’m a grown-up, and I can be responsible and wait, and I would rather fuck you with a condom on than have you jerk or suck me off bare. I guess I am just wired to like it best when I’m thrusting deep into you, sometimes slowly as we kiss, then fast and hard when it feels like you need it, and then slow again so it doesn’t end before either of us wants it to.
Now I almost stop, buried in you to the hilt, grinding the base of my cock against your clit, and an idea jumps into my head. I lean down and whisper in your ear: “Let’s say there’s no condom.”
I need a break from work, and for some reason having an erection seems like a good idea. Did an elaborate specific fantasy suddenly jump into my head? No, I’m just thinking: I like it when my dick is hard. Things are simple and easy.
And now I’m aware of my balls, how full and heavy they feel, and I realize there is a good reason for that; I haven’t cum for a few days and I have a big load stored up. Am I thinking about how it would feel if I shot that load? No, not yet. I just enjoy knowing the load is there, that I have been making it for days, carrying it around with me. Though it’s all I know, I do like being a member of the sex which makes sperm.
My cock is already a little thicker than normal; I can feel it against my underwear. It’s been listening to me think, but I haven’t yet given in completely to enjoying myself. I reach down and begin to stroke myself through my jeans. Yeah, this is a good idea. Let’s do this.
nfeliox:
Our best cum so far. Please share the love and reblog. We are 100% Real
Wow. It’s not often I feel compelled to watch a video so many times.
This dude has shot a truly huge load deep up inside his woman. He’s all the way in her to the hilt, and yet when he pulls out, she’s clearly oozing his sperm right away, AND he’s got just a little more for her…
Very hot, very real. Would love to see this couple make an impregnation-themed video.
While the sex here is plenty hot, it’s really what she says before they get down to business that made my balls swell and my cock stiffen and drool precum. Anybody know if in the full video on the home site (DaneJones) they say any more exciting stuff? Meanwhile, pardon me while I shoot this huge load of sperm they built up in me… Wish I could put it deep in your fertile puss where it belongs…
My girlfriend and I were lying in bed on a Sunday morning, getting each other worked up. We’d both awoken horny, and it wasn’t long before her little hand was wrapped around my thick, rock-hard cock, slowly stroking, occasionally smearing a bead of my precum down and around the shaft. Her pussy coated my fingers with sweet slickness as I circled her clit and occasionally slipped inside her to tease her g-spot.
“God I wanna fuck you,” I told her as I rolled over between her spread legs. She smiled as she reached with her free hand into the bedside table drawer for a condom.
“Oh, no,” she said, frowning and showing me an empty condom box. “We’re out.” She wasn’t on any birth control and we both knew she was in the middle of her cycle. Her hand left my cock and cupped my balls as if she were weighing them. They felt full and heavy. “And it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
I nodded and looked down at my thumb as it smeared her pussy juice up from her entrance and over her clit. “What should we…?” I didn’t need to finish my question. I knew she wanted to me to fuck her as badly as I wanted to fuck her. Maybe more.
“You’re in charge,” she said.
Believable and hot? Who knew there was such a thing? He gets a little … uh … jerky near the end, but everything turns out the way it should. Settle in…
If this isn’t showing right in your Dashboard, feel free to click through to the host site.
When I was younger, I hated “blue balls”, that ache men get after a make-out session doesn’t lead to orgasm. I might get it with no contact, just kissing a girl or caressing her breasts. Or I might get it because a girl had been stroking my cock through my jeans. Or she might even have been brave enough to unbutton my jeans, pull down my boxer briefs, close her fingers around my rigid prick, and slowly, gently stroke as we kissed or as I teased her nipples with my tongue or slid my middle finger between her slick pussy lips. But if I ended up with blue balls, it was because she hadn’t been brave enough to make me cum or hadn’t been willing to deal with the resulting mess. And that would hurt. A lot. My balls and prostate had gone into overdrive making sperm and semen, hoping I could shoot it deep inside her fertile pussy, and not being able to shoot it at all meant it had to stay where it was. Ouch.
These days, women don’t shy away from making me cum. If they stroke my cock, it’s because they’re planning to make me cum… soon enough. Or if we get interrupted I’m not shy about jerking myself off to relieve the pressure before it becomes pain. So I don’t get that severe version of blue balls any more, but I do get a milder version. If for whatever reason I get horny enough for my cock to begin stiffening, and it’s been a week or more since I’ve cum, and there’s no way for me to do anything about it, then I’ll often feel a faint dull ache in my balls that tells me I’ve got a big load to shoot. I’ll eventually start to think about shooting that load deep inside a fertile pussy, and I’ll feel my cock and balls respond, slowly shifting in my underwear. If I’m in private, I’ll find a way to shoot that load, at best deep inside you or at worst all over myself. But if I’m in public, then I don’t have many options other than enjoying what the ache means.
This happened to me today.
The video quality isn’t the best, and the audio gets out of sync with the video, but the gal says the magic words that instantly make my cock hard, make my balls feel heavy and full, and remind me why we’re all alive together.
I log in to Tumblr and start to scroll through my Dashboard, feeling my dick stir in my pants as I absorb image after image. I realize I have been working so much lately that I can’t remember a time in the last couple of weeks when I was erect.
I unbutton my jeans and slide my left hand under the waistband of my boxer-briefs to cup my balls, and they feel slightly swollen and tender, as if left in a state of readiness for too long. My right hand scrolls the Dashboard some more as the fingers of my left hand close around my shaft and squeeze gently. I love the cycle of being horny, getting hard, and letting my own hardening cock get me hornier, my arousal feeding itself.
I push my boxer-briefs down below my balls, hoist my now-stiff prick out into the open air, and feel the pre-cum already welling up from deep inside me. Images of cocks, pussies, and cocks in pussies scroll past as I slowly stroke my own rock-hard rod, and soon a pearl of that pre-cum oozes from my tip. I must have a huge load waiting for a chance to spurt from within me.
We “met” on an adult website — you know, the kind you suspect is full of fakes or at least prostitutes. Her profile said she was 32 and preferred bareback, but there was no reason to worry because she was on the pill. Nobody likes condoms — it doesn’t even bear mentioning — and the way she put it got my attention. After a few rounds of email, we agreed to meet at the Starbucks near my place to size each other up.
I arrived early, glanced around to make sure I’d preceded her, ordered a latte, and sat down to watch the door. She’d written that she’d wear a short red sheath dress with a black belt and purse, but she didn’t mention how blazing hot she would look in it. I admit I was already thinking about sex, but seeing her walk in that door would have stirred me anyway. She was about five feet eight inches tall, four inches or so shorter than me, and had jet-black hair and eyes. If I were a porn director, I could probably tell you her bra size, but frankly what got my attention was her hips, wide and swaying. I’m wired that way.
She got in line and I could see her look me up and down as I sidled up to her. “Vivian?”
She smiled. “Not my real name, of course.”
“Of course,” I said. We made small talk while we awaited her coffee, then retreated to the corner where I’d been sitting earlier and we’d be less likely to be overheard.
“So, the topic at hand,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, “Under the circumstances, I suppose we must simply dive into it.”
I chuckled. “If you get cold feet and bolt, I won’t be mortally wounded.”
“So far, no urges to flee on this end,” she said.
“Good,” I said, placing a hand on her knee. “Because since we started emailing, I’ve been experiencing a certain… pressure.”
