The young one - meat

The things you do I like - smacking my arse, reaching those long arms around me. Fingers inside me, head between my legs.

We spit at each other you call my a slut, a filthy cunt, your dirty girl. I tell you that you're my filthy little boy and a bounce on your cock until I come, and you come all over my body. Flesh on flesh. Meat inside me. Throbbing hard and juicy.

The young one - cracked eggs

I don't know why I don't write about you more, because I certainly fuck you enough, and it's great sex, desperate sex, moorish hungry sex,  with endless courses. 

You're moving away soon for work, and I'll miss you like a decent pair of shoes. I do like you and I know you do me, even though your nervous air kills my buzz at times. 

You've got a nice big cock and it's always hard. You're young and fragile, like an egg with a crack in it and I embrace you with my cunt and in my peace and warmth. 

The communicator

Sipping drinks you make me laugh and I'm indecisive on the attraction, but I go to to your hotel with you, and when we kiss there's a flutter in my groin. 

The softness of your touch and your complete and utter desire to do exactly as I wanted was neither a turn on or off. You made me orgasm several times with your hands. You didn't want to fuck. Maybe you can't? You stared at me and listened to my moans with clinical detail, my pleasure was your floor show. Your delicate operation.