What A Platonic Blow She Says 2 of 2

What A Platonic Blow She Says 2 of 2



I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head,
And the broad shoulders. I took bold hold of the compact
Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed.
Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act.

Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled. My lips and,
Explored, the adorable masculine tits. My eyes
Assessed. the chest. I caressed the athletic hips,
And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs.

I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit. I sniffed,
The subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste,
Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift.
On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist

Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed.
Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick,
But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed,
Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick.

Shall I rim you? I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent.
Turned on his side and opened his legs let me pass.
To the dark parts behind, I kissed as I went.
The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arise.

Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in.
Down the shaggy slopes, I came to the puckered goal.
It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin.
His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.

His sensations yearned for consummation. He un tucked
His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy.
Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked,
Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.

I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare,
From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside
Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair,
To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide.

I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat
Sutures of the capacious bag. I adored the grace,
Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat
Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face.

Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head,
With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove.
He thrilled to the trill. “That’s lovely!” he hoarsely said.
Go on! Go on! Very slowly I started to move.

Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base,
Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down
In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace
Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.

Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come,
As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls.
I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb,
And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls.

I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow,
And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.
His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered “Oh!”
As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung!

Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock,
Slipped a finger into his arise and massaged him from inside.
The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.
He melted into what he felt. “O Jesus!” he cried.

Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick
Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat.
His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick,
His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.


By nutbuster