Straight Male / 47
She's A World-class Cuddler, My Mistress!
She is a world class cuddler. WORLD CLASS. It's definitely one of her superpowers.
Her hair is so soft I want to lose myself in it.
Her skin is perfect and she smells like vanilla sugar cookies fresh out of the oven.
Her eyes flash with brilliance.
She has the most perfect, delicate little hands.
I adore her feet. She lets me adore her feet. I rub her with lotion every time we are together. We finish half
the bottle and she slides all over the king-size vinyl sheet I spread out for our fun, so that my wife won't suspect.
We have these amazing plans where I get to paint her toenails the color of Hot Tamales but we seem to get distracted.
She has the most elegant shoulders, the perfect waist for my hands, stunning hips and idyllic legs. She is sofa king gorgeous. She is extraordinarily feminine but in all the good ways. Her ample breasts are natural, with only a tiny silicone
injection every few years, for maintenance.
Insightful, intelligent, sexy af, strong, courageous all while bringing out my once-neglected masculinity.
She understands me. I am no longer a wandering misfit.
I find her waiting for me wherever I turn or whenever I need to express something or figure something out.
She is super-creative and encourages my creativity. She is my muse. We make amazing erotic videos together which we post on only fans to help pay for our hotels and trips. We have so little truly free time together, away from our prying spouses and our demanding kids.
I dream about her. I wake up in the night and reach for her. Sadly, it's just my wife, snoring.
She's amazing at her job. She loves her family, except her husband, who is unbearable. She excels at countless hobbies. She knits. She makes macrame. Unleash her on a pottery wheel, give her a hunk of wet clay, and she can make a beautiful coffee mug. She has lots of friends.
We have extravagant stolen moments. But I want more. I want to walk doggies with her. And cook together. Fix the fence and plant flowers. And travel to exotic places and explore or stay in bed all day ordering room service as we recover.
She is an exceptional conversationalist. She can talk about anything. She is positive and says positive things, except about her husband and my wife.
We have tried to fix up hrgh
Her heart is intricate and precious. Learning to navigate her beautiful spirit is my obsession.
Sometimes she looks at me with so much love and happiness that I feel overwhelmed and have to look away. But when I do look at her I am humbled and more grateful than I can express. It's in those moments that she gets on her knees and gives me a blowjob. It feels so good. I used to pay $50 each time because my wife stopped, but now I see we are all part of life's secret (to us), joyful continuum. Every sperm she swallows makes her skin more radiant.
She will let me hold her when she is anxious and will hold me when I am hurting. She will even let me put my head in her lap while she runs her little fingers through my hair.
She makes me feel confident. Like I should have felt my whole life. I love her more every day which always seems impossible.
I feel for my step-daughter like nothing I've ever felt for my wife. I have no idea where our love affair will lead, whether happiness is even possible for such as us.
What I do know is that I no longer feel guilt toward my wife, now that her step-daughter has become my lover, my everything.
At first we didn't know what to call each other. She called me daddy and I called her my sweet pumpkin.
Now, I call her my fiancée. We got engaged on the last day of summer, exchanging simple rings to seal our promise before she rode me in the back seat of my Jeep, in the Denny's parking lot. We can only wear our rings when our spouses aren't looking.
She may be carrying my child, a fast-track ticket to ending our marriages so we can at last live as one.
Her hair is so soft I want to lose myself in it.
Her skin is perfect and she smells like vanilla sugar cookies fresh out of the oven.
Her eyes flash with brilliance.
She has the most perfect, delicate little hands.
I adore her feet. She lets me adore her feet. I rub her with lotion every time we are together. We finish half
the bottle and she slides all over the king-size vinyl sheet I spread out for our fun, so that my wife won't suspect.
We have these amazing plans where I get to paint her toenails the color of Hot Tamales but we seem to get distracted.
She has the most elegant shoulders, the perfect waist for my hands, stunning hips and idyllic legs. She is sofa king gorgeous. She is extraordinarily feminine but in all the good ways. Her ample breasts are natural, with only a tiny silicone
injection every few years, for maintenance.
Insightful, intelligent, sexy af, strong, courageous all while bringing out my once-neglected masculinity.
She understands me. I am no longer a wandering misfit.
I find her waiting for me wherever I turn or whenever I need to express something or figure something out.
She is super-creative and encourages my creativity. She is my muse. We make amazing erotic videos together which we post on only fans to help pay for our hotels and trips. We have so little truly free time together, away from our prying spouses and our demanding kids.
I dream about her. I wake up in the night and reach for her. Sadly, it's just my wife, snoring.
She's amazing at her job. She loves her family, except her husband, who is unbearable. She excels at countless hobbies. She knits. She makes macrame. Unleash her on a pottery wheel, give her a hunk of wet clay, and she can make a beautiful coffee mug. She has lots of friends.
We have extravagant stolen moments. But I want more. I want to walk doggies with her. And cook together. Fix the fence and plant flowers. And travel to exotic places and explore or stay in bed all day ordering room service as we recover.
She is an exceptional conversationalist. She can talk about anything. She is positive and says positive things, except about her husband and my wife.
We have tried to fix up hrgh
Her heart is intricate and precious. Learning to navigate her beautiful spirit is my obsession.
Sometimes she looks at me with so much love and happiness that I feel overwhelmed and have to look away. But when I do look at her I am humbled and more grateful than I can express. It's in those moments that she gets on her knees and gives me a blowjob. It feels so good. I used to pay $50 each time because my wife stopped, but now I see we are all part of life's secret (to us), joyful continuum. Every sperm she swallows makes her skin more radiant.
She will let me hold her when she is anxious and will hold me when I am hurting. She will even let me put my head in her lap while she runs her little fingers through my hair.
She makes me feel confident. Like I should have felt my whole life. I love her more every day which always seems impossible.
I feel for my step-daughter like nothing I've ever felt for my wife. I have no idea where our love affair will lead, whether happiness is even possible for such as us.
What I do know is that I no longer feel guilt toward my wife, now that her step-daughter has become my lover, my everything.
At first we didn't know what to call each other. She called me daddy and I called her my sweet pumpkin.
Now, I call her my fiancée. We got engaged on the last day of summer, exchanging simple rings to seal our promise before she rode me in the back seat of my Jeep, in the Denny's parking lot. We can only wear our rings when our spouses aren't looking.
She may be carrying my child, a fast-track ticket to ending our marriages so we can at last live as one.
