One Hot Mama
My lover is a mother. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been with a mother, but let me tell you–it is exquisite. Her body is worthy of worship. She is the giver of life. I kneel at her altar and pray in whispered tongues that only her clit can understand. With my face pressed close to the folds of flesh leading to that sacred opening, I understand the desire of every straight man on the planet to gain entrance back into the warm, wet place that can only be named as the ultimate comfort.
She comes with ease, as graceful as an antelope startled into action by the tiger. I hunt, I pounce, I bite. And yet I suffer with a longing that precedes our lovely wet exchange. We all seek to rejoin the source. And I am ravenous for it. She feeds my craving in the way I hunger after every inch of her body. When she leaves me, she is ravaged, her skin bitten and marked, her pussy pleasingly sore.
When we cannot be together because she has the kids, she calls me on the sly–once, hidden deep inside her clothes closet with only one minute to reach orgasm before the kids wandered in and discovered her. I listened to her come quickly, all the while wishing to fill her ache with my strap-on cock that crushes her like a pestle in the mortar.
Let me fuck this beautiful mother with everything I possess. I am her servant. I am her lover. Is there really any difference?
But beware of the mother. She is not to be toyed with. Fucking the mother is a privilege worthy only of the most serious deep-dicking, whether from a straight male or a lesbian with accoutrements–she needs depth. The reward is the wettest, most explosive orgasm. I celebrate her each and every time I moan in stunning agony.