He looked like a walking advert for one of those men magazines.

Those beard and hair magazines men buy looking to copy and paste that look on themselves and women ogle thinking, what a mighty fine man he is.

The point being, that a look or dresscode should not wear the person as much as the person should wear or carry off the dresscode or look ....because there is where the disconnect can happen and the pretense and obvious hardwork to try and be something else makes it less interesting and appealing.

And as much as he looked polished , just as much was his garb casual and perfectly suited to the manicured hair, beard and mustache .

It was obvious this was going to be a play and tease slow, intense, a magic carpet ride where curiosities niggling needed some attention.

It was obvious she would enjoy losing herself in his scent, a manly opaic perfume that suited him perfectly and had her inhaling every part of his body.

It was obvious his cock and balls would be hers and when arched on all fours to milk his cock slow and, separate those balls from his shaft was the most edible inviting thing ever.

It was obvious she wanted him to let go and surrender and he...he had taken some time to bite the bullet and be hers.

And when the creaming began and the throb deep within his manliness contracted intensely so she too felt her womanness become wetter and wetter.

What a fascinating thing it is...play unrushed, maddening in its erotic sensuality without the need to hide behind high walls and pretense draining.

A man polished and controlled in look and a curious relaxed surrendered and willing lover behind closed doors.

She loved that sort.

RB.

It was very different.

Him.
Dressed to kill...in a sporty way.
Roses in hand.
Purpose.
His ask...she to be in heels and gstring and nipple caps.

She to do nothing but allow him to play.
Play in a way he knew was within the boundaries they had set many moons ago.

It was a strange one for her.
Being on the receiving end without any giving.
Not strange though, to be near naked and comfortable being the woman she was , seductive , sensual and all curves.

So true that one does talk about caressing and touching and have no understanding what it actually meant.
This man ...he knew. An innate understanding of the power of touch, closeness...warmth.

The last to touch be the womanly wetness between her thighs.

His was not only with hands but mouth and the pressing of his body against her, arching her , spooning her, hugging her into him, entwining them into a lovers tangle.

When two people know exactly what it is all about and trust allows for blindfolds without concern.

Trust.

To surrender to a lover on a birthday in a way so different to the normal purplish indulgences.

The roses a reminder and even more dear a man who knew to push the boundaries without overstepping them.

A birthday spoil, wet, wild, swollen and juicy, hard and shafty, most different without any carnal penetration.


RB.

Friendship.

Not a word ever to be used between them.

It would mar what they had. It would push the boundaries and set expectations . It would lead to overthinking.

They were lovers. Lovers purple. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Yes.

Lovers...not friends.

Every travel through her city, a pit stop, a dinner ...and even though a familiarity built, a comfort found in the people they were...like two peas in a pod, yet different.

The sort of thing that needed no explanation, no excuses. The sort of thing indulged in, engaged in , to walk away from , until next time, without any inbetween chit-chat or contact.
The freedom of surrender, the freedom of...trust.

A very slow burning , lusting of each other. Their eyes unseeing of anything else in that moment in time together.
An energy intense, synchronised.

At times his cock total focus , to lay splayed for her.
Neither into porn, not shunning it but, not the go to nor expectation nor the drawcard.
Like virgins when it came to their sexsensual discovery of each other. Everytime.
The finding, exploring, discovery of sweet nectar dripping from her warm welcoming womanness and his hardness never rushed to be satiated .

And when she lay for him...

The caress of her body with his shaft, that tip playing havoc with her desires. His weight upon her, not to squash but rather possess...a grind slow , his cock against her mon pubis...the call for nipples harder, pussy wetter, mouth eager to be kissed sensually.

An arching , from both, a deep moan, a groan...

To spoon, to entwine, to resort to kama sutra style of play.

To nuzzle, to rest in the passion of each other. No words ever truly needed.

And then as always....so many times....

He back to wherever he came from.

She back to her world.

Until his next trip.


RB.

How gorgeous he was.

Quite addictive. A little abrasive. Loved his whisky a little too much and his cigarettes too....neither of which appealed to her.

His demeanor one as if she owed him something and she humoured him because she saw the real man behind the mask.

She knew he wanted sex.

Simple sex.

No frills. No play....even though she had told him she was all about the "frills".

That is how she remembered him.

Out of the blue , after a few months, he reached out again.
He had a girlfriend now, he said.

His second visit to her. She was surprised.

Well, he said , a whole weekend with his girlfriend wasn't that exciting.

3 months into the relationship they were.

"Ah." she responded.
"If you and i had to spend a weekend together you would not want to leave my side.
I would make you fall so deeply in lust with me.
I would love every part of your body with the whole of me. I would caress your lips with mine and breath in your breathe . My womanly musky scent and wetness would be your aphrodisiac, your drug to take me nice and slow....

Make me sink deeper into the bed as your weight lays on me and your manly hardness slowly slides and slides deeper and deeper reaching that sweet spot where my nectars flow know to flow.
You would hold onto me as if your life depended on it and lose yourself into my being as you feel the pull of all I am, looking into my eyes.
You would kiss me with the passion of a hunger that cannot be satiated for the desire to drown into my need of you would seal our lips to each other.

You would love my body like you have never loved another.

And the weekend would be too short. "

......And all the time she spoke she loved him with all she was and when he exploded, he looked all dazed and lost and, gentle was his embrace of her.

She knew he was in trouble.

She knew she had opened pandoras box and his problems had just begun.

It was his own doing and maybe best so.

3 months into a relationship and a weekend together was already boring for him and his girlfriend.

That pandoras box had to be opened.


RB.

When two people are of the same mindset and, in a moment of serious hot debauchery, in a moment of pure sexual verbal filth

Cowgirl style, bouncing on him like she would if she were in a rodeo on a bronco, what came out her mouth as his sturdy hardness thrust heavenward and his hung balls bounced up and down

Was...

"You HORSE!"

It was a moment for a candid camera shot.
No cowgirl .
No thrusting of a hard schlonglike dick heavenward, no bouncing hung balls.

Just a silly startled look at each other and then the most sincere laughing .
"You mean Stallion..?"

"Yes. Whatever." she said, recovering from the fit of laughter.
"Bring your horse cock here. My fuck. How do you carry that thing around. "

And that unexpected moment of blissful silliness brought out the real wild wild west, saddled ,bucking , spurring and rhythmic.

Horse.
Stallion.
Bronco.
It didn't matter.

RB.

To flirt with a spirit free...

It was in the shape, the curve...it knew to hold him fascinated for hours on end. A woman walking by dressed to enhance her feminine lines. Lines lean, lines buxom, lines full and voluptuous.
Nothing more beautiful than the way a woman knows to move , knows to beckon with the curve of her ankle, the crossing of her knee...a wrist relaxed, a hand resting lightly, moving up and down the length of a thigh, unaware of how sensuous the travel of her hand... an action so natural.

He loved to sit and watch the ritual of undress, the unhurried tease of clothes discarded...the anticipation of what may be hidden from his gaze.
At times, the starkness of a naked body jolting his senses for, the shadows cast across a tummy, thighs milky...breasts rich in their natural shape...a slight droop further emphasising lines of a body beautiful, had him hardening, growing the full length of his manliness....instantaneously.
Then those times...under garments loose, falling to the floor, crumpled at her stockinged feet, suspenders, garters, the tiniest of little panties, breasts exposed, knew to take his breath away...again...an erection of note...instantaneous.

It was all in the shape of a woman...a woman who loved herself and dared to laugh freely, flirt with a spirit teasing, inviting...a woman who knew to make him feel like a king.

And, thus, he sat back and picked up his pencil and proceeded to sketch that which lay before him...RB.

How would one describe it?

Her approach.
Her will.
Her audaciousness in a space so "taboo" that society could not imagine there was anything authentic about it, dared to address morals or speak of integrity.
Code of conduct?
Respect?

....trust....?

She smiled.

She had always thought, fuck society and its double standards.
Fuck society and the yes people who said yes simply because it was easier to buy into the spineless bullshit the loudest spewed.

She was no pariah.
She simply looked, absorbed, learnt and lived....it stood her well.

And the man that walked through her door said...
"You are OCD"
"I am?"
"So am I." Was his response.
She smiled...he had got some, SOME of her.

His was the need to cuddle.
Talk.
Be real.

Authentic.

A space where strangers dared to get naked, give of themselves most intimately....it struck her, as always....the authenticity.

His word..."authentic".

The compliment.

He wanted her to know him.
See him.
Hear him.

And the way he wanted that was to know more about her.

Entwined.
Naked.
Silence peaceful.
The comfort of no fear to let go and....just be.

Know more about her? Mmmmmmm.

So she started with his comment about her being "OCD"....and from their, the level of comfort, loving, touching , kissing , cuddling....authenticity.
..was a given.

The adult world...she loved it.

It wasn't for everybody.
It drained.
It guilted.
It created cynics and made a farce of intimacy.

It made actors worthy of Oscar awards and the person/s themselves no wiser how deep down the rabbit hole they had fallen.

Authentic....just like Alice in Wonderland.

She smiled.

The audacity to be more than a picture set, a fuck fantasy, a porn lust.

The audacity to be an open book without apology or fear of judgement or reprisal.

He needed that and...she loved that.

If only, if only it could have been a whole day affair.

Maybe one day it just might.

The realness of connection and the ripple effect on all things sexsensual.

It did not know post nut clarity, nor guilt, nor overthinking.

It knew the humaneness that could be found in a space many feared, misjudged and abused.

RB.

It was nearly 3 years,since she had last seen him.

She asked him how come...and, before he could answer, because she saw the shift in his gaze and facial features , she said..
"Please be honest. Don't give me a tale."

He sat working through his thoughts , it was very palpable..

"It was too intense.
Too much.
Overwhelming. "

She smiled. She liked his honesty and , settled back very content and knew their evening was going to be awesome.

On his arrival, he had gifted her the book promised 3 years ago and an icona blessed and specifically bought for her.
"When I was in the monastery, I thought about you."
It blew her mind like nothing had for many years. There were no words to the feeling that enveloped her .

And so during dinner, after his truthful confession , a bond began to form. A realness set in and they enjoyed each other on a level different.


On a level different was the man and woman in the "bedroom".
On a level different was every soft kiss, hug, caress...adoration of each others closeness.
On a level different was that gasp, that disconnect of all things earthly and a slump and total oneness.

Maybe it needed 3 years to put things into perspective.

They say there is the right time and place for everything.

It felt like it was the right time and place.

And as she readied herself for sleep, content, she put her icona next to her bed and the world ceased to exist within seconds.

RB.

That slow burn.
That need for a slow, slow... Sloooooow release.
To lay back and do nothing but have her do her thing.

Sex was not his go to.
It was the treat , the spoil, the relax...the buildup that he wanted.

It was the moments of anticipation of his cock and balls being caressed, massaged.

It was the feel of the length of her body, her lips on his skin, her egging him on to let go....give more of himself, allow her to devour him.

Every stroke of her hand, gesture, tone of voice, hair on his back as she pressed her breasts into him, lips soft and lusty, breath warm...

Every inhale of hers, her moan....her surrender...taking him deeper and deeper into the moment.

She coaxed him to express himself.. vocally...she listened and asked for more

He liked to share.

And she loved to listen. It was tales of erotica...the sort she reveled in....and, she obliged.

Next time he said..."2 hours at least."

She smiled to herself and wondered if he would like to be edged for 2 hours or wish for release more than once.



RB.

She liked the real.
The relaxed.
The trust.
It settled her.
It bought out the best in her, walls down, absorbing all of him because....he gave so readily of himself.
His eyes telling . His talk open. His smile broad.

Her feet tucked under his leg, his hand caressing her calf.
His touch...magic.
And so it was only a matter of time that her one foot made its way from under his thigh and made its way to a growing bulge in his pants.
His look, an ask for her to take control.

It was time.

It began with her feet on his cock.
It followed with her continuing to sit on the sofa and tell him to undress for her.
First to unbuckle his pants and pop his hardness out before any other undressing took place.....so she could play with his shaft, with her stockinged feet.
"Press that hardness against my foot" she told him...." fuck my foot ..."

....and her hand went between her thighs. Cupping her womanly warmth, loving the horniness growing deep within her wetness.

And when standing before her in his total nakedness , she made her move...both her hands on his cock, looking up at him.

His gaze burnt, his precum dripped.

"Oh my...."

What followed was unrushed, foreplay always her pleasure and, to make sure was her lovers pleasure too.

A stay in dinner date....where the food was left uneaten ...for quite a bit of time....to be devoured much much muccccch later.

RB.