Self–Pleasure

Erotic euphoria allows no room for deep contemplation as the body submits fully to passionate rhythms of unwavering stimulation — erect nipples and flowing wetness signify the depth of anticipation, because it has been done so many times before in the comfort of privacy, allowing for sensual expression that is expressed sometimes quietly but most often loudly. Remembering her last intense fucking, she utters, Fuck my pussy, with a large object inside her and her twitching clitoris being massaged expertly by experienced fingers; her left hand slowly moves up to rub and lightly pinch nipples that well know the feeling of the tip of an eager tongue. Imagining him there, she whispers, Please make me cum, not stopping her erotic rhythm for anything or for anyone. What would her high society friends and acquaintances think if they knew that she tasted herself eagerly, licking the wet passion slowly with the tip of her tongue? The beauty of her expression is that she doesn’t give a fuck. She loves telling her lover that she wants to be fucked upon seeing the girth of his cock that she so likes to get on her knees and suck. The lingering taste of him intensifies her want. She opens her legs a little wider to deepen what is vibrating inside her, intently moving her fingers over what is most receptive to pleasure. Her subtle beauty is her femininity and the womanhood of her. To true pleasure, she is no stranger. She is accustomed to marathon fucking and well hung men with stamina. She lies in her bed; her leg hanging off the edge. Her hair flowing into soft pillows, like a vast ocean at the mouth of many rivers. When the height of pleasure finally finds her, there are no words that she can utter. Her pupils dilate. Her body shudders.

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