' Or, does it mean that my body is enjoying a warm hand caressing it for once in its semi-short existence, but has yearned to be held for what seems like such a great while? Am I crazy? Or do I know what I do not want? Does he love me? Or my body? Or does his body love my body? When we are thrusting our sexes into and against each other it feels so wonderful, yet so empty and fake. It hurts when he gets out of me. It burns. He holds onto me after. Maybe I do love him. Maybe that is why we were brought together in the first place. Or maybe I need to learn to stop asking why. Love is love. Nothing more. I do love him. With every bit of my heart and soul do I love him. more ...
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She sat up and finished what she started by taking off my jeans and jockeys. My cock leapt out at her, and she exclaimed "oh my, it is a nice one. Nice and thick." I said "remember, us old guys take a while to get there, and our recovery time isn't that good, but if you'll let me, I'll show you what it means to be made love to." She smiled and said " wouldn't that be nice for a change. All the young guys we know just want to get their rocks off and be done with it." I promised that wouldn't be the case for us. more ...