I really love this video (especially that little "pop" at the end, uuugh it's too good). Filmed by my dear partner, sometime last week. Experimenting with a new video hosting site. This one is cleaner and better for embedding but my trial runs out in 2 weeks so I'll have to see if I like it enough to subscribe.
Hard to believe a month has passed since I last posted! Thanks as always for your patient support, and I hope the posts are worth it even though they are sparse. I try to let them sit for a few days before I edit and then again before I post just to make sure they are ready (they usually are, I am just silly and have to anguish about everything).
Anyway I hope you enjoy
This is my preferred definition of an insightful sexual interlude: carnal manna crafted for headphone heaven. The domestic signifiers are all in order: your little socks, the academic's spectacles, the comfortable top and the absence of undergarments rendered obsolete by the furry fecundity that bedecks your craving sex. It would all be for nought if not for the collaboration of your tumescent conspirator who wields the filming device at the same time as deploying his pork-sword according to your whims and requirements. The style is immersive with your hand crowding the composition as it pumps the beef bayonet that threatens to erupt from the confines of the magic screen. The highlight, of course, is the succulent symphony, as articulated by your exuberant panting, moaning and horny hiccoughing. The crescendo is predicted - and facilitated - by the combined assault on your orgasmic apparatus by - at first - the frozen tentacle of the cerise sex toy and then, the bludgeoning length of your significant other's gristle whistle which seems as reliably hard as a sturdy table's leg or load bearing wall. It is utterly intoxicating to see two shafts at work, mining a climax from your rich seam of glossy, coral-pink, potential. Then, the vibe is removed and the indiscrete charm of singular, committed, shagging assumes its rightful importance. The clamour - and glamour - of your orchestral pre-explosion noise-making clambers to the summit until there is nowhere else to go. Your collaborator's almost apologetic squirt onto your belly and pubic throw-rug is the ultimate in bathos. It is the perfect period at the end of a mesmerising sentence. Melancholic's sex face is to expire for.