Fingering. Pinching your hard rosebuds atop your tits. Stroking my cock in front of your face. Sticking my tongue between the folds of your wet lips. ...litoral sucking. A finger up your ass. But not words of love and romance. No flowers. No dinners by candlelight. I touch myself. It is dark. I am alone. Now I am hard. I feel the first drops emerging from my tip, and my hand slides both along the smooth skin and with the slick lubricant I am producing. My hand slides along the smooth skin, but. The mass of hair surrounding it though. I'm sure someone cranked up the pube dial in my DNA to 11. It's like a bloody forest down there. Dense, wiry, dark brown, hair announces my insignificant cock in a triangle, fading out as it rises up my flat belly. It twitches at the unceremonious attention. I really couldn't be bothered creeping around last night. You know, afterwards, to clean up! Hence the crispy fly and the matted pubes. I really should get up. Still, another few minutes won't hurt.. More

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