is the man. Every room has phallic symbols. Every wall contains the shape of rubinesque or a lithe woman, of various ages, shapes and seductions. Opposite my couch, in my hunting room (not of the African ilk), hanging from the wall, is a huge porcelain cunt, dripping with sloshing fluids, and swollen with fatness and an eager hardness. I am ensconced in sex, and I am quite literally a sex. If nothing more, I am a sex, if it is a noun, I am it. I have fucked 100 women in one day, and have experienced over two dozen orgasms in an evening. I understand that the common reader will think this to be hogwash, but for those who are in the sexual-no…. more ...
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Grant walked towards Phyllis telling her to move her hands away from her wet cunt, she obeyed instantly again looking Grant in the eye but lowering her head as their eyes came together. Grant then told her to lay back on the lounge chair and to continue Masturbating. Phyllis understood that Grant could be very dominate sometimes and was sure that it was no use to argue with him as she pushed her back into the chair. Grant then took himself a chair that was on the patio and moved it closer to the action. Phyllis felt so ashamed of herself and was numb with shock, she could not lift her head but listened to every word that Grant spoke, her body on fire and her pulse raced like she had been re-wired to respond to the sound of his voice. more ...