the magic bag

Sweet, salt on my tongue

As I drag it upwards, along

The crease of his thigh

I close my eyes

And inhale the musky, male scent

Unique to him alone

Hands open, fingers kneading

Firmly muscled thigh flesh

Feeling the soft fur

Under my palms

I turn my face

And bury my nose

Between the hefty weight

And delicate globes

Held inside their silken pouch

Responsive to my breathe

And the promise of my tongue

Their rise and tightening

Indicative of his arousal

As evident as his erection

Soft shoulders pushing forward

Forcing hard thighs open

Gaining access to press closer

Lips searching, while my tongue traces

Secret lines and delightful creases

Lifting their perfect weight

To be suckled gently

Inside the white hot heat

Of an eager mouth

The source of life is here

Seeded, fruitful man juice

Worshiped by my reverence

Eagerness to bring it forth

Bursting in pulsing jets

From this magic sack of mine

This entry was posted in a mans body, Sex and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to the magic bag

  1. Wonderfully hot and sensual write…

  2. mikemajor9 says:

    Oh. My. Yeah, that was pretty… hot 😉

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