A Man’s Greatest Attribute

I eagerly awaited his arrival. I had awaited it all day. Coming home from another scalding day at the farm, I was in the cool chamber of my apartment, yet my body was awash with perspiration as I heated up within. The passion in my spirit was impatient to be unleashed, a dragon no longer dormant and knocking at my mind.

I wanted him, waited for him.

I placed a hand between my thighs, started rubbing, the wetness there coming through my panties, warm and desirous as a substance almost autonomous itself.

The knock at the door, I needed no more.

I rushed to greet him. He entered, still somehow taller than I remembered even though this would be our fourth encounter. And he was still just as exciting, inspiring my teeth to bite my lips as I reached out to pull him in, bring him into my nest and keep him.

“I hope you’re ready,” he told me, deep voice only making me clasp harder to his back, the rigid bones growing beneath his shirt.

“Oh, I am,” I moaned, purring into his nose, which opened to greet my nose as we connected nostril-to-nose-tip. I felt the suction pull me in and it was time for me to undress.

I removed my shirt, followed by detaching my tractatus apparatus by undoing the hooks beneath my shoulder blade, which my lover helped me undo as my bones folded and retracted so eagerly. He then moved his fingers over my back as my own spinal spikes began rising in arousal. Pretty soon his tongue was inches out of his mouth, reaching around my neck to the recess in back, slipping in with a “schlick” as he moved in and out, tongue pulsating and dripping. I could feel him about three inches into my neck at that point, his mouth seeming to have become one with the back of my throat, hitting the Y-spot so effectively as I felt my esophageal tube begin to move back and forth, the pressure already bringing me to the edge of ecstasy.

“Gwab my fithcuth,” he whispered into my twitching ear around his orgasmic tentatongue, my nose firmly in his at this point as his oral limb prodded away at my posterior neck ring.

I obliged, bringing my right hand to his glorious fiscus, that long T-bone-shaped leg protruding from his chest. I grasped the end and began to jostle it around into the crevice between my breasts, which hummed louder than ever before, my nipples leaking spudent oil onto the floor in lust. My other hand reached around to his back, which bones shifted beneath the flesh like rushed tectonic plates in a kind of adrenal frenzy.

Much to my subtle dismay, he removed his tentatongue from my neck and shoved me onto the bed, where I removed my pants as he did the same, his fiscus thrashing about and spinning like a top as I ached to feel it betwixt my tits again.

His body was clearly as eager as he was to free himself of the burden of clothing, as his donglis split into two and undid his belt on their own, dropping his jeans and reaching out to me like a baby’s arms yearning for their mother. He let the divided appendage propel him forward, seemingly under a trance as he walked toward me at the edge of the bed. His underwear tore thanks to the beautiful julonular arms branching from his ass, which appeared hyped for my cruvoxes. The oil from my areolas spewed amber and slick for the fiscus, as the anterior and posterior hagli between my legs gasped for the donglis as my mouth would for air. “Aye! Aye!” It was a rare occurrence for my hagli to be so vocal, contracting their custonial walls so harshly that their vocal calls sprang forth like auditory hiccuping geysers.

“Get on me,” I begged, voice rendered hoarse as the hagli stole it with the collective “aye”’s coaxing the donglis, which responded by twisting together in a DNA spiral, representative of what they would release inside of me in the coming moments in a sort of mating dance. They twisted and untwisted and twisted in the other direction, rotating from clockwise to counter-clockwise as they approached until he was on top of me and the donglis limbs slipped inside, silencing my yelping hagli.

Without pause or a chance to brace for it, his thrusting began as the donglis lurched inside and wormed around in my holes, muffling the wet cries of the hagli. His julonular arms reached for my buttoxial cruvoxes and fused with them at the molecular-genetic level to make us one. The oils from my porous nipples splashed over the fiscus as it twisted and turned. His tentatongue was once again reaching the innermost universe of my neck as it writhed in there, sending wave after wave of stiphlis unfathomably deep into my cranial recesses. All of my endorphin-loaded synapses sung in symphony as their crescendo reached previously unheard highs; he was even better than I recalled from our last session.

It was not physiology that was this man’s greatest attribute, but his vigor, his enthusiasm, his attentiveness, his endurance, and his stamina. It was the collective whole of his abilities and abundant lending of pleasure as it was clear it was my pleasure that gave him his. He would not let up—nor did I want him to—as he thrust his fiscus in my breastal cavity and his dualistic donglis in my two hagli, his tentatongue once again at home in my neck crevice. Those julonulars mixed with my cruvoxes like a child sharing our genes in a braided swirl. His hands explored my spinal spikes as my hands explored his tectonics, my unhinged hip hoops wrapping around his hands like vines determined to keep him in all of my places for hours, days, weeks, years at a time.

“Stay with me,” I demanded.

“To the end of the ecterial rainbow,” he murmured, which sent my hair follicles into seizure as they spiraled and spouted a mountain of fuliscious julal juice into the air, which only made his thrusts stronger, until his donglis tightened, my hagli doing the same to milk it as he released every ounce of ghunal sputum into me. I felt it, pink and carbonated as it fizzed within me, bubbling forth like champagne uncorked. A celebration of our insatiable animalism.

I belonged to him and he to me. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Even as my 13 husbands entered as a choir and called out my name in tender unison, I wasn’t going to break free, and neither was the man now so irreversibly a part of me.