His cock was a marvelous upright rod of pleasure.
A prominent cock head with a drip of precum, glistening...inviting.

The balls tight...heavy looking.

Her hands did their magic...she, sitting between his spread legs...landing gently on the inner part of his thigh...an intentional run of hands up up ....uppppppp toward that crevice where the balls lay.

And...pausing ever so slightly, making it all one action, to cup his balls and rub her thumbs upward ...stopping at the frenulum....gently massaging rubbing...bringing her head down to lay her tongue flat on that part of the cock...ever ever sooo sensitive.

And so she continued , those pauses, change of grasp and caress.. texture...

His cock , his marvelous upright rod lasted 45mins before he could no more.

She let him cream her hard nipples and loved the pleasure she felt in him.


RB.

There were times when he pitched and just the gentle tease and flick of his cockhead, had his mast spill creamy cum.

Then there were times where flaccid remained flaccid for some time but, his enjoyment and need was no less and having his cock and balls massaged and played with, among other things, brought about a fountain- like splurt of pleasure.

...and then there were times he walked in with a serious stiffness.
A stiffness that was there to stay.
A stiffness that demanded he play and then take himself in hand and paint her titties wet and creamy.

Their enjoyment was never contrite, neither preconceived nor planned.

Hers was never about sex, nor was his.
Talk tended to be minimal, a sexy electric comfort found in touch, breathing, moaning and whispers expressing delight of feelings bodily satisfying.
A sort of lovers laziness where toes touched and an arm rested across his torso was a moment in time caring, softening the hardship of daily living and the perfect medicine until next time.

A smile was always a given as was the warmest of "see u soon" hugs.

What a man, she thought.

What an awesome companion and lover.

RB.

She would call it the fleshlight adventure.
It made her smile.

The hot blooded men who professed no interest saying nothing could replace the warm succulent softness of a pussy ready to be penetrated after much play and tease.
What most of those self professed lovers of a pussy lubricious missed, was that a fleshlight in no way should replace the delight of the gobble of a hard cock by the spread of legs for that deep slide or, the arch of back when on knees waiting in anticipation for a doggy style "fuck".

A fleshlight was foreplay .

In the right hands ...and she knew hers were, accompanied by a lusty oozy dripping description of what the pink fleshlight pussy lips could get upto, what it actually did to her....sliding her fingers deep, caressing those fleshy lips....nothing could stop the rise of lust and hardness and need to be sucked and fucked by the fleshlight....even those men professing the real thing is the only go to.

She always liked to remind her lovers that those fleshy lips must have been moulded and created with some woman's pussy in mind..how sexy was that!!!!

And so it happened that the foreplay , the use of her fleshlight became a thing many looked fwd to.
Asked about, requested.
How would she describe it to them?
Well.
The only thing she told each gent was...."Come to my pleasuredrome and let me show you."

The awesome thing always was , mutual play and pleasure became that much more friskier and naughty!

Such a small thing and what a HUGE difference when it came to bedroom shenanigans, she thought

RB.

It was ages since their last meet.

He called her his "stukkie", which she laughed at, once he explained what it meant.
She definitely was more a "stuk", considering her height and build and, another 10cm add on, when in heels.
She knew it was a term of endearment... his stukkie, under the radar ... a pleasure enjoyed whenever he could.

They had gone from a nervous first encounter and, many many moons later, a sharing of each other with no qualms or concern being real and relaxed without losing the magic that had brought him to her.

It was easy. He was not a pretender. She liked the non pretenders. The ones that knew she was a safe space. A space where " breathing and surrender", a reflection of her temperament, was a given.

She liked the ones too, who came a little guarded but, trusting in their instinct that mind and body pleasures would be awoken, those slumbering passions, those lusty thoughts fulfilled in a way they hoped and desired.

And back to him....his journey of letting go, a progression of the intimate hidden self. Finding himself in his visits . The man he had forgotten he was.
Every visit revealed a man more content.
A man, when reaching out to hug her close or, pull her into a soft kiss, harder than hard , without the need to immediately "sex" her.
The anticipation, the foreplay...the understanding of being a lover.

This time they discussed an all nighter ...the dinner dates needing a companionship of a different sort.
A companionship a little less time restrained .

She smiled.... at the ocean would be an awesome start....she wondered if he would meet her in Cape Town?
She smiled and imagined a night where the Atlantic Ocean ebbed back and forth and the cloth of cloud settled on one of the Wonders to be found on Mother Earth, Table Mountain....and he, relaxed and lost to all before him, as she would be too.

RB.