Cuddling

There is something about cuddling.  Wrapped around each other on the couch or in bed.  Where ever.  Just the human touch or someone else.  Sometimes, it isn’t the physical act of having an orgasm that I crave.  I find I can have an orgasm when ever I want.  Watch a little porn, pull out the favorite toy, and your good to go.  Mechanical, solitary, predictable.  I do appreciate the art of masturbation.  Sometimes, truthfully, I get bored with my self.

I crave being with him.  I crave having him inside me anyway possible.  I crave his force, his darkness.  We have amazing sex.  Hot, kinky, rough, controlled, passionate, annihilating sex.  We just don’t have it often enough.  So when we are together it is in the forefront of my mind that we will fuck, play out a scene, make love, particularly because I live like a nun until he calls me.

Having said that, he is also the best “cuddler” in the world.  He will wrap his body around me and pull me in.  No matter if we are on the couch watching TV or in bed ready for sleep, he finds ways for our bodies to touch in all places possible.  Always with a hand on my breast, cupping it in his hand and every now and then a gentle squeeze to let me know he is there.  A occassional caress of my face, moving a finger down my jaw bone.  Gently running his fingers through my hair and then grabbing it like a pony tail.  Moving my hair away from my face so I can see.  Making sure I am comfortable.  There is nothing like cuddling with Sir.

Everything about any kind of contact with him is nothing less than amazing.

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