Mytoy Adventures
Picture this:
Sitting down in the Italian place in San Francisco, we're talking. They're talking. The murmurs of voices rise above us.
There's a soft whisper at your ear,
I love you.
There's a slick warm tongue and a soft lower lip sliding up and around the outer curve of your ear.
I want you.
Tingling trails of nails running lightly over the back of your neck.
I need you.
A smile, a wink and a nod towards the far corner of the restaurant.
Right Now.
A soft trace of fragrance that beckons you to follow.
Come play.
You have been pounced by a young, lusty maid in the far corner of the restaurant in San Francisco, quieted by the clinks of silverware and the waves of voices. They're involved. They won't notice us gone.
The soft rush of air through noses as mouths connect, open and warm, inviting and pulling.
I need you.
Leaning hard against each other, braced against the walls, a leg curling around you, gripping arms.
I want you.
Pelvis to Pelvis, chest to chest, mouth to mouth, buckle to thrust.
Right Now.
Warm brown. Warm gray. Soft, lingering touches and glances.
I love you.
Taking a hand and leading you around the corner, away from the eyes,
Come play.
You are alone in the dark in a restaurant in San Francisco with a girl who wants you and the only risk is the chance someone might come for a broom.
Soft finger tips running down your chest and nibbles on your lower lip, intense greedy hands fondle solid manhood.
I want you.
The soft warmth of rounded skin as your hand curves round a breast while hands ravage your inner thighs.
I love you.
Sheathing entry into a hot, ready pussy, clenching fast and urgently. A long slow slide, deep inside.
I Need you.
Hurried panting, desperate moaning, steady thrusting, bodies rocking. Such tight, hot wetness, impenetrable hardness, bodies arching.
Right NOW.
Seize. Clench. Scream. Relax.
Oh, God.
You’re zipping up and pulling down. Your fingers are softly brushing and you’re tenderly kissing a girl who’s melted in your arms as the door opens to bewildered faces. We turn and stare and laugh. Tender arms around your girl, a soft glance, a kiss, Mona Lisa smiles as we saunter past.