What Do You Think of While Canoodling?
reverendhornibastard
Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy
PART ONE:
Mrs. Hornibastard Poses the Question
Women love to talk. The current (third) Mrs. Hornibastard is no exception. During a recent, post-canoodling cuddle she suddenly asked me, “What do you like to think about while we’re making love?”
Naturally, I assumed this was a trick question and began frantically searching for a safe, plausible response.
Before I could answer, she broke the awkward silence with another question. “Do you ever think about sex with other women while we are making love?”
“No, of course not!” I replied, my voice ringing with all of the stern conviction I could muster on short notice. I’ve become very adroit at feigning sincerity when the situation calls for it.
Mrs. Hornibastard then persisted with her original question, “So what DO you think about while we are making love?”
“I mostly just enjoy how sexy your body feels in my arms and in my hands.”
I felt like I was doing pretty good so far, so I continued, “I concentrate on how wonderful your tight pussy feels around my dick. I love the look in your eyes as you gaze into mine while I’m sliding my cock in and out of you. I’m also captivated by the way your perky titties bounce and jiggle with each thrust I make into you.”
My answer was not entirely bull shit. I very rarely fantasize about fucking other women. Even when I do, my fantasies tend to be about sex under novel circumstances with nameless, generic beauties rather than focus on any specific woman.
________________________________________
Sexual Harassment Sensitivity Training Fantasy:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4299
Avant-Garde, Nude Ballet Teacher Fantasy:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4326
Nude Yoga Class Instructor Fantasy:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4303
________________________________________
Besides, Mrs. Hornibastard still looks pretty hot and most of my mental energy while fucking her is spent appreciating her great body, her soft, silky Asian skin and how well it fits on her and, yes, her warm, tight pussy.
________________________________________
ATF on Display:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4416
——————————————————
Mrs. Hornibastard seemed satisfied with my response and rewarded me with a sloppy kiss.
I probably should have known better but I threw caution to the winds and asked, “Why? What do YOU think about while we’re making love?”
Mrs. Hornibastard responded without hesitation. “I think about all the wild things we did during the early years of our relationship. Do you remember how we spent most Sunday afternoons naked in our pool? I sometimes invited one or two of my girlfriends to join us. You would make margaritas. We’d all get drunk and my friends usually ended up watching us make love. Eventually, I watched you fucking some of my friends. God! I really LOVED doing that! Even now, I often think about THAT while we are making love!”
Obviously, I remember our wild past. Things like that are difficult to forget. But it was a long time ago. It’s ancient history now. I was astounded to hear that those wild days still reverberate inside the pretty head of the woman my kids refer to as “Mama.”
... to be continued in Part Two ...
Mrs. Hornibastard Poses the Question
Women love to talk. The current (third) Mrs. Hornibastard is no exception. During a recent, post-canoodling cuddle she suddenly asked me, “What do you like to think about while we’re making love?”
Naturally, I assumed this was a trick question and began frantically searching for a safe, plausible response.
Before I could answer, she broke the awkward silence with another question. “Do you ever think about sex with other women while we are making love?”
“No, of course not!” I replied, my voice ringing with all of the stern conviction I could muster on short notice. I’ve become very adroit at feigning sincerity when the situation calls for it.
Mrs. Hornibastard then persisted with her original question, “So what DO you think about while we are making love?”
“I mostly just enjoy how sexy your body feels in my arms and in my hands.”
I felt like I was doing pretty good so far, so I continued, “I concentrate on how wonderful your tight pussy feels around my dick. I love the look in your eyes as you gaze into mine while I’m sliding my cock in and out of you. I’m also captivated by the way your perky titties bounce and jiggle with each thrust I make into you.”
My answer was not entirely bull shit. I very rarely fantasize about fucking other women. Even when I do, my fantasies tend to be about sex under novel circumstances with nameless, generic beauties rather than focus on any specific woman.
________________________________________
Sexual Harassment Sensitivity Training Fantasy:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4299
Avant-Garde, Nude Ballet Teacher Fantasy:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4326
Nude Yoga Class Instructor Fantasy:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4303
________________________________________
Besides, Mrs. Hornibastard still looks pretty hot and most of my mental energy while fucking her is spent appreciating her great body, her soft, silky Asian skin and how well it fits on her and, yes, her warm, tight pussy.
________________________________________
ATF on Display:
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4416
——————————————————
Mrs. Hornibastard seemed satisfied with my response and rewarded me with a sloppy kiss.
I probably should have known better but I threw caution to the winds and asked, “Why? What do YOU think about while we’re making love?”
Mrs. Hornibastard responded without hesitation. “I think about all the wild things we did during the early years of our relationship. Do you remember how we spent most Sunday afternoons naked in our pool? I sometimes invited one or two of my girlfriends to join us. You would make margaritas. We’d all get drunk and my friends usually ended up watching us make love. Eventually, I watched you fucking some of my friends. God! I really LOVED doing that! Even now, I often think about THAT while we are making love!”
Obviously, I remember our wild past. Things like that are difficult to forget. But it was a long time ago. It’s ancient history now. I was astounded to hear that those wild days still reverberate inside the pretty head of the woman my kids refer to as “Mama.”
... to be continued in Part Two ...
3 comments
I agree with both of you.
If women knew what we men were thinking (at any time, not just while we are on top of them), they’d never stop slapping us.