Self Love - an Inspiration

What a wonderful enjoyment she had provided the last few hours. Admiring and appreciating, thanking her in fact for the tantalizing conversation she always provided, I felt myself painfully aroused. As she had requested, 'self love and the written word' inspired me to explore such thoughts.

I started the shower, hot and steamy, and turned off the lights in the bathroom, stripped down and stepped in. Enjoying the hot water and steam filled air, I bathed myself thoroughly. With an image of her with legs spread, bent at the knees, I soaked the body scrub with shower gel and lathered slowly, covering by body sensually. My closed eyes brought more images. Lathering my crotch I found myself half mast. Aroused yet not hard. I lathering up fully, teasing myself with gentle long strokes and rubbing. Reaching around and cleaning my backside thoroughly, running the body scrub up my crack, feeling the hot water and soap across me.

After a good 15 minutes in the shower I stepped out, drying myself slowly in the dark steamy room with my mind still racing of the many images and thoughts she had inspired throughout the past few years. I could nearly hear the light gasp of her moan and feel the gentle grip of her thighs around my face when her pleasure grew more intense.

No sound emanated from the bedroom as I pushed the blankets off the bed and laid down in the middle of the bed. The bright sunlight warmed my naked form as I grabbed a bottle of heated KY lube from the nightstand. Thoroughly relaxed, I laid back and grabbed a pillow, resting my head comfortably.

While the thoughts of her neck craning in pleasure as I tasted her sweetnss flashed through my head, I coated my hands and half mast member generously with the lube. Closing my eyes and savoring the idea, I slowly danced my fingers along my firm yet soft length resting on my stomach, feeling myself grow underneath my fingers.

Various images sprinkled through my mind as I felt myself thicken within my gripping fingers. The toy was between her legs, her hands caressing the inside of her thighs as she watched me watch her. I now pulsated within my hands as I wrapped my fingers around and slowly stroked up and down. The warm lube created a slippery surface I could stroke with ease.

She sat on the edge of the kitchen table while I sat in the chair between her legs. Her hands gripped the back of my head and buried my face, imploring me taste, to please, her. My mouth watered with such ideas as I felt my hand caress the tip of my member over and over.

She was lying on her belly between my legs, propping herself up with one arm over my thigh. Our eyes fixated on one another as she held my member, slowly teasing the swollen head with her tongue. My head pushed back into the pillow as my hands increased their pace along my lubed up length. One hand slid down and massaged my sack. They were tight, swollen, full and ready.

She straddle my torso, riding me with her own gentle grinding. Stroking harder and faster, the image of her sliding up and down on her knees was almost as if she was there. It had turned me on more than ever and now, as my hips pushed off the bed and my hands now pumping my throbbing member, the sounds of my groans and my hand sloppily stroking across my member filled the otherwise deftly silent room.

She reached climax. She always did when she rode me. Putting one hand on my stomach and the other back between my legs, bending back forced me to feel her heat rising and my body tensing. The pleasure on her face forced my hands to increase their intensity, my breath shortened, my chest heaved.

Her body tensing, her face giving the ultimate vision of orgasm sent me over the edge. A loud groan escaped when I exploded inside her, yet I felt the warm stickiness splash across the top of my chest. I could feel my member explode with each burst, slowly stroking, milking myself. I could feel the warmth drench my stomach as I spurt with each long purposeful stroke. My body relaxed, the last remnants oozing down along my hand, covering my shaft and knuckles.

I lay there, exhausted, opening my eyes and smiling to no one but myself. Looking down, I admired the mess she had created with the mere imagination of her sensuality. I took another shower and wrote this story. Unfortunately or fortunately, I am now hard again thinking about her and now might just repeat the process.