In a Boston hotel room, morning, no cage. Some light playing across some veins. No touching.
Posted a day early because of the holiday weekend. Happy laboring, USA!
Sticking with the apparent and unplanned theme of these posts, this time from a wooded retreat. Different bedroom, different window, same penis.
I seem to be in a bit of a rut already on these Sinful Sunday posts. All very similar. So many views of our bed and window. Ah, well. It’s not like anyone can ask for their money back. This one might be my favorite.
And on the third day, she let me out of the Steelheart. But she didn’t let me come. Oh no. Not that. The penis got wet, but the balls are left churning.
On weekend mornings, after she’s taken her pleasure from me and gone to start her day, I’m left to wish she was still on her side of the bed and that I was still inside her.