Making time for sensuality in my life is essential for me. I make sure that I dedicate time to it each and every day. It’s a concept to which I’m committed, well, to which we are committed because it includes my man and his efforts as well. I told a few of girlfriends about my nightly evening ritual and they all laughed at me. They all told me that it was too time consuming, took too much planning and energy, that it just wasn’t practical. When my sweetie mentioned our rituals to a few of his close buddies, they all teased him that he was pussy-whipped. Funny thing is, none of them are happy with their sex lives. All of them wish they could have what we have. They just aren’t willing to put in the work.

You see, each and every night, an hour before bedtime, my baby and I retire to the bathroom to begin our ritual. He runs the water and gets it just right, scented with oils and the perfect temperature while I slowly, sensually, seductively undress for him. I treat each article of clothing as a key to his arousal, and with every article I remove, he becomes more and more turned on but still focused on his task. When the water is ready I’ll climb in and watch while he gets undressed. He doesn’t do a corny Chippendale striptease or anything but he makes sure to take his time as well to get my juices flowing. And I can assure you that by the time he slides into the tub with me, I’m well on my way to arousal.

Nestled snugly behind me, he takes the sea sponge and applies the jasmine and vanilla scented bath gel and begins to lather my body. I’m here to tell you, he doesn’t miss a single curve on my thick, brown body. I can feel his erection behind me, pressing into me as he makes me spread my legs and he gently caresses the soft flesh of my inner thighs. His fills his hands with the fullness of my breasts and softly, ever so gently teases my nipples to full harness. I usually just throw my head back and luxuriate in the feel of his strong fingers coaxing me to the very edge of pleasure. By then, I’m usually moaning and grinding and ready for more. But the night is still very young.

Carefully, he will help me stand and he’ll take the shower head to rinse the soap from my body. I have to reach for the railing to keep from falling as he never fails to aim the jet directly at my swollen clit, practically bringing me to the very verge of orgasm. Waiting for me is a warm, fluffy towel and he makes sure to pat away every drop of moisture from my body, well, almost every drop. The moisture that is now flowing from my sacred space, preparing a space for him can’t be merely wiped away.

Once we are both dry, he will lead me to the bedroom and he will lay me down on the bed. He circles me, watches me, he prepares for his nightly prayers. Taking the mango-scented shea butter, he will warm some in his hands until it is melted and in a liquid form. Starting at my collarbone, he will begin to anoint my body with the sweet-smelling oil and massage me from head to toe. His touch is sometimes soft, sometimes ticklish, and other times meant to work out the stresses and strains of my day. He knows every inch of my body by touch: the inside of my elbow, the indentation of my belly button, the crease where my butt meets my leg all the way down to the soft padding on the tip of my toes. There isn’t a square inch of flesh on my body he hasn’t touched or licked.

All of his ministrations are not in vain. He does all of that nightly to prepare for his feast. Shining in the soft candlelight, completely relaxed, I will spread my legs as he kneels before my holy altar. My temple is his place of worship. I have prepared a challis from which he can drink the sweet nectar of the gods. Softly, he spreads my lips and he inhales the scent of my pussy. Content to just luxuriate in my special fragrance for a moment, he will take in all the details of my divine core: the soft lips, the folds of flesh that reveal my pink treasure, the hole that beacons him to come home.

Tenderly, he will take his tongue and flick it against my clit, sending my body into immediate waves of erotic sensation. Gripping the sheets and already moaning, I will lift my hips to his mouth and give him better access. Using his tongue like a sensual paint brush, he will paint pleasure between my pussy lips. He will take his time, adding a finger inside me, fucking me, licking me, sucking me, driving me insane with desire. I am usually crying, pleading, begging him to let me cum at that point but I know that there’s a long way to go.

When my juices are dripping like a faucet between my ass cheeks, my sweetie will usually work his finger in my ass, causing me to curse like a sailor and demand that he fuck me. It feels so fucking sexy when he’s working my asshole, sliding his finger in and out, and he’s licking my clit at the same time. I will grab the back of his head, squeeze my soft brown thighs around his head and try my best to explode in his mouth. I’m usually not very successful. I don’t get to cum until he says I do and there are plenty of nights he will let me calm down and we have to start all over again until I’m begging, pleading, and practically crying, demanding him to fuck me.

Trembling, shivering, and ready for release, I chant, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” to the heavens. At his breaking point, thick with desire and need, he will push my legs back and mount me. Taking steady aim, he will point his dick, filled with need, to the place he belongs. In a single, slow, deep stroke, he will fill me, take my breath away. Purposed, steady, strong, and hard, he will slide his dick in me over and over and over again. My legs wrapped tightly around him, my nails in his back, my hot breath in his ear, we are joined together as one.

Knowing me better than anyone and sensing when I’m ready to explode, he’ll flip me over and put me on my knees. With my ass in the air, he will begin his final maneuvers. Primal, animalistic, and desperate for release, the sounds that emanate from me at that point are incoherent. A combination of grunts and moans and desperate pleas for release, I will demand my pleasure. “That’s right, baby, see that pussy, that’s yours. You want it don’t you? You want to unload your cum deep in there. Go ahead sweetie, fuck me. Shove your dick in me and fuck me. Ohhh, that’s it. Fuck me.”

With the fullness of my hips in his hands, he will steady himself until he’s deep inside me and thus begins that brief period of space and time where nothing but ecstasy exists. Hitting my spot over and over, deeper, harder, his hand moving around to rub my swollen exposed clit, I climber higher and higher to the point of no return. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I beg until I feel my body start to tremble and the feelings of my orgasm consume me.

The night doesn’t usually end there. I whisper “Cojelo otra vez, papi,” meaning fuck me again, and we start the whole thing over, with me licking and sucking and riding him to his orgasm. Yeah, to a lot of people our ritual might sound time consuming and even monotonous at times but it’s the thing that keeps us secure in our love for one another and our passion burning.

Copyright 2012 AfroerotiK All rights reserved

Making time for sensuality in my life is essential for me. I make sure that I dedicate time to it each and every day. It’s a concept to which I’m committed, well, to which we are committed because it includes my man and his efforts as well. I told a few of girlfriends about my nightly evening ritual and they all laughed at me. They all told me that it was too time consuming, took too much planning and energy, that it just wasn’t practical. When my sweetie mentioned our rituals to a few of his close buddies, they all teased him that he was pussy-whipped. Funny thing is, none of them are happy with their sex lives. All of them wish they could have what we have. They just aren’t willing to put in the work.

You see, each and every night, an hour before bedtime, my baby and I retire to the bathroom to begin our ritual. He runs the water and gets it just right, scented with oils and the perfect temperature while I slowly, sensually, seductively undress for him. I treat each article of clothing as a key to his arousal, and with every article I remove, he becomes more and more turned on but still focused on his task. When the water is ready I’ll climb in and watch while he gets undressed. He doesn’t do a corny Chippendale striptease or anything but he makes sure to take his time as well to get my juices flowing. And I can assure you that by the time he slides into the tub with me, I’m well on my way to arousal.

Nestled snugly behind me, he takes the sea sponge and applies the jasmine and vanilla scented bath gel and begins to lather my body. I’m here to tell you, he doesn’t miss a single curve on my thick, brown body. I can feel his erection behind me, pressing into me as he makes me spread my legs and he gently caresses the soft flesh of my inner thighs. His fills his hands with the fullness of my breasts and softly, ever so gently teases my nipples to full harness. I usually just throw my head back and luxuriate in the feel of his strong fingers coaxing me to the very edge of pleasure. By then, I’m usually moaning and grinding and ready for more. But the night is still very young.

Carefully, he will help me stand and he’ll take the shower head to rinse the soap from my body. I have to reach for the railing to keep from falling as he never fails to aim the jet directly at my swollen clit, practically bringing me to the very verge of orgasm. Waiting for me is a warm, fluffy towel and he makes sure to pat away every drop of moisture from my body, well, almost every drop. The moisture that is now flowing from my sacred space, preparing a space for him can’t be merely wiped away.

Once we are both dry, he will lead me to the bedroom and he will lay me down on the bed. He circles me, watches me, he prepares for his nightly prayers. Taking the mango-scented shea butter, he will warm some in his hands until it is melted and in a liquid form. Starting at my collarbone, he will begin to anoint my body with the sweet-smelling oil and massage me from head to toe. His touch is sometimes soft, sometimes ticklish, and other times meant to work out the stresses and strains of my day. He knows every inch of my body by touch: the inside of my elbow, the indentation of my belly button, the crease where my butt meets my leg all the way down to the soft padding on the tip of my toes. There isn’t a square inch of flesh on my body he hasn’t touched or licked.

All of his ministrations are not in vain. He does all of that nightly to prepare for his feast. Shining in the soft candlelight, completely relaxed, I will spread my legs as he kneels before my holy altar. My temple is his place of worship. I have prepared a challis from which he can drink the sweet nectar of the gods. Softly, he spreads my lips and he inhales the scent of my pussy. Content to just luxuriate in my special fragrance for a moment, he will take in all the details of my divine core: the soft lips, the folds of flesh that reveal my pink treasure, the hole that beacons him to come home.

Tenderly, he will take his tongue and flick it against my clit, sending my body into immediate waves of erotic sensation. Gripping the sheets and already moaning, I will lift my hips to his mouth and give him better access. Using his tongue like a sensual paint brush, he will paint pleasure between my pussy lips. He will take his time, adding a finger inside me, fucking me, licking me, sucking me, driving me insane with desire. I am usually crying, pleading, begging him to let me cum at that point but I know that there’s a long way to go.

When my juices are dripping like a faucet between my ass cheeks, my sweetie will usually work his finger in my ass, causing me to curse like a sailor and demand that he fuck me. It feels so fucking sexy when he’s working my asshole, sliding his finger in and out, and he’s licking my clit at the same time. I will grab the back of his head, squeeze my soft brown thighs around his head and try my best to explode in his mouth. I’m usually not very successful. I don’t get to cum until he says I do and there are plenty of nights he will let me calm down and we have to start all over again until I’m begging, pleading, and practically crying, demanding him to fuck me.

Trembling, shivering, and ready for release, I chant, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” to the heavens. At his breaking point, thick with desire and need, he will push my legs back and mount me. Taking steady aim, he will point his dick, filled with need, to the place he belongs. In a single, slow, deep stroke, he will fill me, take my breath away. Purposed, steady, strong, and hard, he will slide his dick in me over and over and over again. My legs wrapped tightly around him, my nails in his back, my hot breath in his ear, we are joined together as one.

Knowing me better than anyone and sensing when I’m ready to explode, he’ll flip me over and put me on my knees. With my ass in the air, he will begin his final maneuvers. Primal, animalistic, and desperate for release, the sounds that emanate from me at that point are incoherent. A combination of grunts and moans and desperate pleas for release, I will demand my pleasure. “That’s right, baby, see that pussy, that’s yours. You want it don’t you? You want to unload your cum deep in there. Go ahead sweetie, fuck me. Shove your dick in me and fuck me. Ohhh, that’s it. Fuck me.”

With the fullness of my hips in his hands, he will steady himself until he’s deep inside me and thus begins that brief period of space and time where nothing but ecstasy exists. Hitting my spot over and over, deeper, harder, his hand moving around to rub my swollen exposed clit, I climber higher and higher to the point of no return. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I beg until I feel my body start to tremble and the feelings of my orgasm consume me.

The night doesn’t usually end there. I whisper “Cojelo otra vez, papi,” meaning fuck me again, and we start the whole thing over, with me licking and sucking and riding him to his orgasm. Yeah, to a lot of people our ritual might sound time consuming and even monotonous at times but it’s the thing that keeps us secure in our love for one another and our passion burning.

Copyright 2012 AfroerotiK All rights reserved

Making time for sensuality in my life is essential for me. I make sure that I dedicate time to it each and every day. It’s a concept to which I’m committed, well, to which we are committed because it includes my man and his efforts as well. I told a few of girlfriends about my nightly evening ritual and they all laughed at me. They all told me that it was too time consuming, took too much planning and energy, that it just wasn’t practical. When my sweetie mentioned our rituals to a few of his close buddies, they all teased him that he was pussy-whipped. Funny thing is, none of them are happy with their sex lives. All of them wish they could have what we have. They just aren’t willing to put in the work.

You see, each and every night, an hour before bedtime, my baby and I retire to the bathroom to begin our ritual. He runs the water and gets it just right, scented with oils and the perfect temperature while I slowly, sensually, seductively undress for him. I treat each article of clothing as a key to his arousal, and with every article I remove, he becomes more and more turned on but still focused on his task. When the water is ready I’ll climb in and watch while he gets undressed. He doesn’t do a corny Chippendale striptease or anything but he makes sure to take his time as well to get my juices flowing. And I can assure you that by the time he slides into the tub with me, I’m well on my way to arousal.

Nestled snugly behind me, he takes the sea sponge and applies the jasmine and vanilla scented bath gel and begins to lather my body. I’m here to tell you, he doesn’t miss a single curve on my thick, brown body. I can feel his erection behind me, pressing into me as he makes me spread my legs and he gently caresses the soft flesh of my inner thighs. His fills his hands with the fullness of my breasts and softly, ever so gently teases my nipples to full harness. I usually just throw my head back and luxuriate in the feel of his strong fingers coaxing me to the very edge of pleasure. By then, I’m usually moaning and grinding and ready for more. But the night is still very young.

Carefully, he will help me stand and he’ll take the shower head to rinse the soap from my body. I have to reach for the railing to keep from falling as he never fails to aim the jet directly at my swollen clit, practically bringing me to the very verge of orgasm. Waiting for me is a warm, fluffy towel and he makes sure to pat away every drop of moisture from my body, well, almost every drop. The moisture that is now flowing from my sacred space, preparing a space for him can’t be merely wiped away.

Once we are both dry, he will lead me to the bedroom and he will lay me down on the bed. He circles me, watches me, he prepares for his nightly prayers. Taking the mango-scented shea butter, he will warm some in his hands until it is melted and in a liquid form. Starting at my collarbone, he will begin to anoint my body with the sweet-smelling oil and massage me from head to toe. His touch is sometimes soft, sometimes ticklish, and other times meant to work out the stresses and strains of my day. He knows every inch of my body by touch: the inside of my elbow, the indentation of my belly button, the crease where my butt meets my leg all the way down to the soft padding on the tip of my toes. There isn’t a square inch of flesh on my body he hasn’t touched or licked.

All of his ministrations are not in vain. He does all of that nightly to prepare for his feast. Shining in the soft candlelight, completely relaxed, I will spread my legs as he kneels before my holy altar. My temple is his place of worship. I have prepared a challis from which he can drink the sweet nectar of the gods. Softly, he spreads my lips and he inhales the scent of my pussy. Content to just luxuriate in my special fragrance for a moment, he will take in all the details of my divine core: the soft lips, the folds of flesh that reveal my pink treasure, the hole that beacons him to come home.

Tenderly, he will take his tongue and flick it against my clit, sending my body into immediate waves of erotic sensation. Gripping the sheets and already moaning, I will lift my hips to his mouth and give him better access. Using his tongue like a sensual paint brush, he will paint pleasure between my pussy lips. He will take his time, adding a finger inside me, fucking me, licking me, sucking me, driving me insane with desire. I am usually crying, pleading, begging him to let me cum at that point but I know that there’s a long way to go.

When my juices are dripping like a faucet between my ass cheeks, my sweetie will usually work his finger in my ass, causing me to curse like a sailor and demand that he fuck me. It feels so fucking sexy when he’s working my asshole, sliding his finger in and out, and he’s licking my clit at the same time. I will grab the back of his head, squeeze my soft brown thighs around his head and try my best to explode in his mouth. I’m usually not very successful. I don’t get to cum until he says I do and there are plenty of nights he will let me calm down and we have to start all over again until I’m begging, pleading, and practically crying, demanding him to fuck me.

Trembling, shivering, and ready for release, I chant, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” to the heavens. At his breaking point, thick with desire and need, he will push my legs back and mount me. Taking steady aim, he will point his dick, filled with need, to the place he belongs. In a single, slow, deep stroke, he will fill me, take my breath away. Purposed, steady, strong, and hard, he will slide his dick in me over and over and over again. My legs wrapped tightly around him, my nails in his back, my hot breath in his ear, we are joined together as one.

Knowing me better than anyone and sensing when I’m ready to explode, he’ll flip me over and put me on my knees. With my ass in the air, he will begin his final maneuvers. Primal, animalistic, and desperate for release, the sounds that emanate from me at that point are incoherent. A combination of grunts and moans and desperate pleas for release, I will demand my pleasure. “That’s right, baby, see that pussy, that’s yours. You want it don’t you? You want to unload your cum deep in there. Go ahead sweetie, fuck me. Shove your dick in me and fuck me. Ohhh, that’s it. Fuck me.”

With the fullness of my hips in his hands, he will steady himself until he’s deep inside me and thus begins that brief period of space and time where nothing but ecstasy exists. Hitting my spot over and over, deeper, harder, his hand moving around to rub my swollen exposed clit, I climber higher and higher to the point of no return. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I beg until I feel my body start to tremble and the feelings of my orgasm consume me.

The night doesn’t usually end there. I whisper “Cojelo otra vez, papi,” meaning fuck me again, and we start the whole thing over, with me licking and sucking and riding him to his orgasm. Yeah, to a lot of people our ritual might sound time consuming and even monotonous at times but it’s the thing that keeps us secure in our love for one another and our passion burning.

Copyright 2012 AfroerotiK All rights reserved