Sex After The Movie

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Sex After The MovieI wanted to see a sci-fi film where a macho dude vanquishes the tyrant who hunts him down while she wanted to go see the latest tear-jerker, feel good movie about a White House butler. She wins every time when it comes to movie choices; something that I tolerated in order to be with her. She just doesn’t understand that I enjoy identifying with the macho guy on the screen who can be brutal in his own way, but only toward those who cross him. It’s because I don’t have the muscles the-on-screen-actor has that I enjoy these type of films. After watching a film like that, I walk out of the movie theater with a bravado I didn’t have when I walked in. The k** in me enters the movie theater and–after watching a movie of my choice—a man walks out: encouraged, brave, invigorated, ready and eager to do manly things; like fuck. Instead, I was watching what she wanted. I would place my hand on her inner thigh whenever there was anything romantic on the screen, or place my arm around her when something “touching” or “warm-and-fuzzy” was unfolding. She’d grab my wrist gently and pull my exploring hand away because she wanted to see the movie, not interested in my advances. Moments like this I wish I was with a teenager who was hormonal driven instead of the older, wiser, prick-teaser who is particular about the foreplay and conversation that stimulates her more than the ogre-like groping güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri I was apparently doing. I laughed too loudly when Hanoi Jane came on screen as Nancy Reagan, was I the only one who appreciated this? Apparently. After the movie we went to dinner. She had something healthy with her green tea, while I ordered and over-stuffed grilled sandwich that oozed some Russian dressing. I did pay attention to the movie and sprinkled my insights with words like “penetrating presence,” “the director inserted such-and-such,” or interrupted my train of thoughts with praise for the “Orgiastic food,” and ordered the dessert called “better than sex” some decadent chocolate on chocolate on chocolate cake. It had all paid off. She had slipped off her shoe and her bare foot was climbing up my ankle toward my knee and provocatively brushing my inner thigh and then her curled toes grabbed my crotch and I jumped and knocked over her glass which was empty of the green tea but the ice went flying onto the restaurant floor. We laughed and our sexual tension was apparent as our laughter seemed strangled before bursting free into idiotic guffaws. I pinned her against the wall just outside her apartment door and force a kiss out of her. She pushed me away and reached into her purse to pull out her keys and unlock the door. I nudged her into her apartment with my groin perabet güvenilir mi against her butt and we giggled with excitement. She tried to rip my shirt off and it amused us because the buttons didn’t go flying off exposing some muscular, heaving, hairy chest. We had to pause while I unbuttoned it and allowed her to remove it. She began to undress and my fingers fumbled with the back of her bra and she smiled as she unclipped it from the front and her breasts popped out from their confinement. Instantly I buried my face in them, kissing them, sucking, licking, and adoring them. It’s what came naturally. I dropped to my knees and as I did I brought down her skirt and underwear to her ankles. She stepped out of the clothes crumbled at her feet but not before cupped her ass and pulled her pussy to my hungry lips. I made love to her womanly crevice. My eyes were closed so the touch of my lips and tongue guided me to her clitoris. She groaned with pleasure when my lips found it. She was wet now, but her hands pressing down on my shoulders meant she wasn’t ready for me to get up. She was the goddess and I was kneeling before her worshiping and mouthing, manly moans that begged for more than just a taste. I wanted to have her vaginal lips swallow my sword as my cock ached for attention while my mouth worked its magic. “Take me!” she gasped. Her words were like tipobet nectar. I rose and lifted her off her feet and laid her on her bed as if it were an altar. The “V” of her legs invited me. This missionary position was not religious at all but primordial. We did what was meant to be done since the beginning of time. My cock eased in hungrily and I began to pound her. She wrapped her legs around me pulling me back in when I was withdrawing, we had a rhythm where her physical language clearly guided the force and beat of the fuck. I fucked her doggy style or she’d have me lie on my back and ride me while I marveled at her bouncing breasts and the pleasure of my cock being devoured by her pussy. She was in control when she was on top and I didn’t mind surrendering to her need to fuck me. Sometimes women need to fuck men and that was what she was doing. “Who’s your daddy,” I asked. “Fuck that,” she replied. “Who’s your Momma now?” she asked not expecting an answer as she was in complete control. I surprised her as I rolled her off of me and without missing a beat began pounding her. Now I was back on top and I held her down by her wrists. She struggle but I was not going to let her dominate me any longer. I put my full body weight on her as I continued fuck her and lay on top of her. Her breasts pressed against my chest. I released my grip on her wrists and she pulled me in with an embrace. We kissed madly for a while before I pulled away as I was muffling her need to scream. I came inside her and she was squirming beneath me as she was experiencing one orgasm after another. I just pressed tightly against her while she writhed beneath me. This is exactly why I see movies I don’t like.

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