The Older Man - Tuesday Afternoon

You stroke me and go down on me, we fuck till I come. I let you eat cake.

Indie Boy - Keep Counting

I cant remember how many times I made you ejaculate. Desperately, slowly, sensually, while we fucked, while I sucked you, while I stroked you with my hands. You made me orgasm compulsively and forcefully. I begged, 'Please can I come again', and you replied with composed emotion, with a dismissive tone that made me shiver and twitch, "If you want to".

You said you like to hurt me and you like that I like it.

We played endlessly for hours. I cant remember all we did, and in between we talked, and I said, its like I know you, or have known you for a long time, but not in that feelings way, in that it is comfortable, and you agreed that we were comfortable and I licked your neck like a pup.

The Boy - A Perfect Five Minute Fuck

I walk you into our bedroom, we're kissing.

You urge me onto our bed and go down.

You get me wet, roll me over, push yourself into me.

We move gracefully and completely synced, I rub with my hand and come hard against you.

You purr, 'good girl' softly to me as you push out your effluence onto my back.

Strawberry Fields

Finally I get to see you in bed. I go down on you. I lap at you. I pay particular attention to your soft silky mounds as you told me thats where you like to get touched, in the various filth ridden e-mails we have batted back and forth, in between your periods of saintliness and infidelity. How does it feel now to swap a lover for another? I almost feel achievement. You breath and thrust and you tell me your going to come. You ask me if thats what I want, so soon. I mouth, 'Whatever you want'.

You gush sticky pretty fluid into the back of my throat. I spit it all out against your pelvis. You kiss me, lap at my lips, I spit in your mouth, you smile.

You relax, we cuddle, and then you go down on me. You moan like my squirms and twitches pleasure you. I suppose in a way maybe they do. I ooze all over your mouth. I hit the top. I pull you up and lick myself off your face.

Indie Boy - Third Time Lucky.

We chat in a bar about films we both like and music we both like and life ideals. We walk to your car so you can collect your bag, I think.

You push my against the door of the car, cold and damp. You snap my wrists to my sides and you kiss me forcefully. I squirm and kiss you back, you tell me to get in the car and I hesitate. You put your hand tightly to my throat and you tell me again. I fumble to open the door with my clamped hand, you let me move out of the way before you open the door yourself and bundle me into the back seat.

We kiss, I fight you, you bite me, I play along. You wriggle out of your jeans, I do the same. I watch your cock bounce into its erect state. I put it in my mouth. I suck it then I sit on your lap, I rock and rub and fuck you, you fingers yanking my hair and holding my face like a doll. Then you pull out and come across my clothes. I chastise you playfully. I hate doing the washing more than once a week.

We kiss placidly. I stroke you, you harden again. I go down on you, lick and suck and spit for longer. I am spectacular, you are in awe, your eyes are watching me. You come again, all over my mouth and my neck.

We kiss for longer this time, you pull me onto my back by my legs and start to run your fingers against me, Im squirming and begging, I'm sodden and wet. You push your fingers inside me, I stroke your thighs. You tell me not to hope that you're going to get it up again. I say I don't care, but I know you're going to. You do. I make you wear a condom this time, we fuck forcefully, my hand behind my head to stop me cracking the glass of the side window. We both come, hard against each other. Three times? You're a very lucky boy.

The Architect

A mass of scruffy blonde and brown locks, a mess of coarse facial hair. Deep soft blue eyes like wet warm bathing water. Tall, with a medium build, his nose has a straight firm bridge, he looks like he could have been a character in a Jane Austen novel.

I chat to him, look up at him, let my lips part and smile softly. There is some sort of electric chemistry. In my mind I'm already undressing him. His eyes focus on me and yank me into the water. I am a little entranced by him and I think to myself, I must have him.

He says to me, 'you appeal, I want you', his arms twine around mine, I'm wrapped in a bramble bush, his hair on my face is thorny. He kisses me hungrily, sinks his teeth into my neck. He says, to me, 'there is something about you, you have a spark'.

'You're coquettish'.

He moans as I pleasure him with my mouth. My eyes bleed water as he penetrates me forcefully with his firm, large fingers. He is an architect. He is a very intelligent man. He is very rough with me but talks to me like I am his most precious possession.

This interaction isn't about technique. It is hard to explain but, I feel I am so stimulated by him in my mind, that the physical connection is not what is making me wet. He fascinates me. I wanted him and I had him. We fell asleep together.

Curvaceous Contorted Women

You grip my legs, push them up, twist them around you, you force me to come all over your mouth. I purr and bend and breath. You're just too nice. The artist who draws the curvaceous contorted women is Tamara Lempicka.

Question

Is "You make me as wet as Marti Pellow" a suitable dirty talk line?

My Golden Oldie

"Well you are quite big"

My body stretches out and yields around him as he's fucking me.

"I mean you probably have been told before, I would assume"

I'm rubbing myself and bursting.

"Well..." he shrugs.

I open my legs wider, he pushes low. Deep. I come so hard that I spurt and contract until I push him out.

Warsaw

You say that I am beautiful and interesting. I am flattered, because I am a little drunk. You are very cute and quite old fashioned, true and fair and that is nice. We kiss a lot, I kiss your mouth, you kiss mine, I kiss your neck and you kiss mine. Your skin is soft. You kiss my forehead. You stare at me a lot and play with my hair.

I ask, "Would you like it if I came back with you? I mean, to your house?"

When I enter your room all I can see is art, beautiful paintings. Hand made copies. One impression of two women curvaceous and beautiful, lounged on velvet chairs and Van Gogh, starry night over the Rhone. Another of a flower, which I tell you I dislike because the colours are garish and one of just blues and purple, radiating from a central circular core of green, swirled out. I tell you this one if my favourite and you ask me how do I know that this one is the best. I think I can just feel it. I ask "Did you do these?", you say no, your Mother. I compliment her work.

We lay on the bed and begin to kiss again. There is some music playing that neither of us listen to. I slide between your legs and you moan and say "You must be an angel" I laugh and say that I don't agree that giving good head will get me into heaven.

You pull my clothes off, quite expertly, desperate to touch my skin. We have sex for a while and then you reciprocate. It feels beautiful, like your painting, all oily swirls and colours bleeding from a central circular core. Your tongue is so wet and firm, I could come like this and I do. I say "You're good at that" and you reply that you like to do it.

We cuddle, kiss more, You make me feel quite beautiful, its very pure and honest. You ask please can you have my number. I hesitate but let you have it. I think I'd like to see you again, but I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings. You have been so nice to me and taken me away for a while. Art is the only way to escape without leaving home.

The Suit

I go down on you and you breath hard into the darkness. You say you want to reciprocate and I hesitate but I let you because well, why wouldn't I?

You dive between my legs, massaging me, thrusting your fingers forcefully inside of me, touching me with your thumb and your tongue. I expect you to get bored quickly but you don't. You persist and insist, you have me entranced on a blissful plain that stretches out endlessly like a desert sand. Soft, sun bleached. I walk on the hot white coals, blistering feet, scorched muscle, pulsing. I am in a painful, highly aroused, state. I am leaking fluid everywhere. I am causing an almighty mess. You are touching me like I am the purest most exciting thing.

I say fuck me, we do briefly, but then you slip back down and carry on. When I come its so hard. Your fingers penetrate me double, my fingers rub me. I moan and bleat and giggle and squirm and breath hard and experience that out of body moment in the desert, in the hot sun, on my back, with your hands. It is so intense and so long awaited and so fucking good. You seem so satisfied and you ask "How was that?" and I let my teeth chatter and I stare at you.

The South African

You are so strong. The muscle in your arms bulges as you hold onto my tiny wrists. You stop me reaching up, enclosing my hands in your palms, you could make the bones shatter in seconds. You could break me like glass. I am so turned on because you are so strong. The power behind your thrusts makes me shift on the bed, you cup your hand behind my head to stop me hurting myself and you drive your cock into me. You are so strong and rippled with fat even muscle. I am scared and aroused beyond compare.