Thrill is Real

Thrill is real.
He is 6 feet tall - a height, which requires me to look up to him and he down on me.
His complexion is that of brown caramel.
Not the pure caramel Brach’s makes,
But the caramel that is enhanced with a hint of chocolate -
More sweet and exotic because of the mix.
His hair is soft and black.
He is slightly balding at his forehead.
A hint for those who do not know:
That is a sign of elevated testosterone.
Oooh, testosterone is a good thing!
That slight hair loss is a sign of an abundance of the hormone
That spurs one’s sex drive –
Testosterone – the quintessential male hormone
That is present in all men,
But more prevalent in men such as he;
So prevalent as to be obviously manifested
In that sexy, telltale sign
Whose meaning is elusive to the ignorant,
But magnetic to those in the know.
To hell with the ignorant!
A woman who knows what she is looking at
Appreciates that trait in a man.
It signifies high testosterone,
Which translates to a high sex drive,
Which elicits heightened arousal
And inspires high expectations…
Expectations that Thrill,
Unlike many, more than meets.
He has a face that is a testament to the existence of God
And a reflection of the contradictions found in the universe He created.
It is handsome by any standard.
It is a face that is soft, yet strong,
With eyes that threaten to control you,
Yet pull you in…and you go, more than willingly;
With lips that are inviting,
But foretell an addiction you will not overcome,
But, that you cannot resist simultaneously;
With a mustache that is impeccably groomed
So as to be unobtrusive,
But at the same time accentuates and calls attention
To the lips that you naturally long to feel against yours…
Softly, yet strongly; tentatively,
Yet with demand and force;
With an unthreatening sensually
That at the same time is commanding;
Lips that give kisses that take more than they give…
But goddamn, what they give!
He is slim.
His physique exemplifies what I find most sexy
And desirable about a man.
The back.
His is possessed of wide shoulders that narrow to a slim waste
That points like an arrow to a high, tight, and protruding ass
That sits comfortably upon long, narrow, muscular thighs
That descend to calves that bulge
Under the weight of the man they support
And rests above large feet that correspond comparably
To sexy, long fingered, strong – yet gentle – hands
That in combination with one another
Reveal a clue to the gift he carries on the opposite side
Of the cute ass I previously described.
Conversely, his chest is defined,
But not overly so.
It harbors a heart that beats with a passion and verve
That is intoxicating, alluring, and contagious.
His chest beckons my hand to it.
I place my palm there and feel that heart beat
And from it I inherit his passion,
L'amour de vie, lack of inhibitions, and sensuality.
I cannot help but return all and more to him
In an attempt to bring about his satisfaction.
His nipples are elusive,
Unless you are adequately skilled and alluring enough
To arouse the man to the point that they become prominent.
And when they are prominent,
I defy you to resist the desire to take them,
One at a time, into your mouth,
Suckle them,
Orally caress them,
And nibble on them
Until even you can feel the sensation it creates in his crotch.
He is responsive.
His pubis is nirvana.
Covered in manicured pubic hair that is coarse,
Protuberant, and so sensually abrasive
As to meet your contrastingly feminine, soft and delicate pubis
With a subtly astringent assault that is like an ass spanking –
Harsh, but sensuous,
Evident, and naughtily welcome.
And to feel it against your bare mound
Is to be immeasurably aroused.
And harbored in that pubis
Is a “member” that rivals the Seven Wonders of the World.
A specimen so perfectly formed, sized, contoured, and strong
That it is masterful in it’s own right;
And, yet is so much more increased in ominousness
As it is attached to a man so in tune to it’s existence,
Ability, capability, use, purpose, and erogenous possibilities,
That he can wield it to the intense gratification of the woman
Upon whom he bestows it
To the point that it becomes to her a constant,
Natural, and coveted sexual necessity…
A necessity that is null and void
Without the man behind it who so skillfully pilots it.
And then there is the intangible:
The sense of him;
The ambience, pheromones, aura, presence, ominousness,
Prominence, eminence and imminence of him.
What he is that cannot be touched or measured
And is unequalled.
The man that he is.
The essence that is his.
He is Thrill.
Man, mortal, dream, and reality.
He is not apparent to all.
Not even to his self, necessarily.
But he is as I describe.
It is there,
It is real,
It is good,
And it is bad.
It is a threat and a gift.
It is available, but elusive.
It is apparent, but obscure.
Thrill is a man who is a dichotomy.
He is an amalgam and an enigma.
He is that much more sexy because of it.
Every woman should have a Thrill.
Every man should be one.
I experienced one.
He exists.
And it is good.
Find yours,
Or share mine.

The Bunny