BULL DURHAM AND GAME OF THRONES

Bull Durham came over last night to watch a marathon of Game of Thrones. The moon was super bright (a lunar eclipse occurred at some point, I later found out). The house was cozy. All the windows open and a gentle breeze. He’s the perfect non-commitment, part-time sex partner I was looking for. The man is quite good at listening to my body. What am I saying? He’s fucking fantastic, best I’ve ever had at listening to my body. Knows it better than myself. Each orgasm I have with him is better than the last. It’s crazy. I joked last night (after an orgasm ripped through me) that I might just die from coming at some point. It would be a good death.

 

So, we’re on the couch, watching my version of soft porn, I was wearing shorts and a thin sleeveless shirt that is barely a shirt. Not to be worn in public. Easy access. I was lying against him on a pillow, my breasts up. He started playing with my nipple, and within milliseconds, they could have cut glass. It’s as if he dips his fingertips in liquid Spanish fly. By the end of the show, my body was so sexually charged I could have come if I straddled the arm of the couch. We took it to the bedroom. His cock had been throbbing under the pillow for the better part of twenty minutes. We skipped our usual oral. I needed him inside me, and visa versa. He teased me momentarily with the head of his very stiff cock, and then pushed it in so deliciously. My pussy grabbed him, and pulled him in deeper. He could barely move, my suction cup pussy was holding onto him.

 

I used to hate the fact that I’m not the dripping wet kind of gal. I’m always wet on the inside, but my lips don’t have glands apparently or whatever, because I almost always have to use a little saliva just on the outside. However, with Bull Durham, who likes it, he thrusts into me slow and deep and within minutes, we have all the personal gel we need. I skip the spit, and he doesn’t make me feel like I’m broken, in fact, it’s hot as hell. He tells me in great detail what he likes about my body, my pussy, and how it feels around his cock, he makes me feel like the sexiest woman on earth. It’s probably why my orgasms are so intense with him. I reached for my new, uber thin vibrator on the side table and slid it in-between us, resting  it on my clit. He was rocking my pussy, deep-dicking, and within minutes I came so fucking hard. Titanic muscle spasms that gripped and massaged his iron-rod dick. I grunted and moaned. What felt like an hour later, when it started to die down, he let his go. I drew my hands up and played with his chest, which threw him over the edge. After his five-minute orgasm, he put his full weight on me and kissed my neck. I let him lay there for exactly three minutes before I gave him the tap. No one has ever accused me of being super cuddly post coitus. I jumped up and peed. When I came back, I threw on some panties and said, “Let’s watch another episode!” The perfect night in my book.

 

 

 

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