Of course, all of this was compelling to him, challenging him to seek consent from her to penetrate her and make love to her repeatedly.  Her kisses were like fire on his lips, her bites on his nipple sharp. She holds his face between her hands now of penetration staring ever so deeply into her eyes, demanding that he see her as she opens her vagina to his cock, his thrust into her hole hot, wet, and hungry.  

He always wonders what he savors about her the most. The delicate scent of her fluids spilling from her body during intercourse, or the vision of her pubic bone covered in fine soft brown hair, so thin and fine as to be almost invisible, but captivating by its power to draw his lips and mouth to her moistness below. It all drew him into her, a call so profound as to be below his consciousness but also above in spiritual awareness of her being.

These are not the appetites of a child.  She fucks him like a woman, even if she’s only a teen aged girl she demands that she treats her like a grown-up woman. One of the most essential characteristics of a woman engaged in sex is that she smells like sex, and more she rolls the more she smells.  After an hour or two of sex both of us smell, like an admixture of a female musk mixed with a faint fishy smell, only sweet like a garden.

Between episodes of sex, waiting for the rhythms to capture us again, I love laying with my face down by her vagina, preferably still soaking wet with her fluids mixed with mine.  Her sex is a magic perfume, a potion that links me to her body.  When I smell her like that it causes my cock to rise again, until driven to part her flesh again.  Her odor is like a fucking ambrosia, a total feast of at least 12 servings, each with its own flavor and scent. She makes me want to taste each separate serving… starting with the slight and sweet scent of her first arousal.  In the moment of becoming aware of the scent of dawn, I feel like a kid running down a fresh field of wild grasses, green sweet and so so fresh.  The fresh scent gradually becomes emboldened by her mood.

This is a story about a man and women.  About a man whose most treasured memories are of unfettered collusions with girls and women over a period of more than fifty years.  Some of my loves lasted as little as an evening or afternoon, some of my relationships have lasted more than fifty years.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.