I feel like feeling a blissful, tingling sensation.
And by that I don’t mean solo in my panties.
I’m talking about goose bumps on your head.
Do you recognize that?
I feel like ecstasy.
Do you dare to share?
Eyes that meet.
Lips that whisper.
Your tongue that answers.
on and on
Sex with you may take hours.
Sex with you must last for hours.
It has been too short for too long now.
And long was, after all, still far too short.
Hours of sex is magical.
It makes your day.
It provides horny and hornier pleasure.
It improves your mood and it increases your libido.
It makes you powerful, it makes you shine inside and out and it allows you have the whole world in your hands. Relaxation during exercise, what more could you want?
What are you waiting for?
Come to me, baby.
Forget the clock.
Kiss me, tongue me.
Press your stiff cock against me, because I’ve seen and felt that you’re hard. I always see and feel your dick through your pants, big and thick, just right, is what I like.
This is the 52nd blogporn I write. As we speak.
A whole year, almost full. On December 1, it’s our birthday, baby.
Reason for a party?
Without you, blogporn wasn’t here and there. You, my truthful loyal reader, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
I want you to be my nr. 52. And then again my nr.1. Literally and figuratively. Do you understand?
The number 1 of the new blogporn year, the no.1 from my existence. Because we exist.
I want you to be the one and stay where I write weekly and for whom I write.
Now that we think in figures, dare, I dream of you and me in a 2.0 version.
Where we failed the first time, I would do it differently now, do it better, want to do, dare to do, be allowed to do, to do, over and over again.
What would a 2.0 version of us look like?
What kind of adventures would find us?
I’m horny. For you.
I want to fuck and be fucked.
I can feel it in my panties. I can feel you in my panties.
Wet and wetter. Flexible. Smooth. There. In. And. Out.
I can’t think of anything else all day long.
Then to your fantastic golden cock.
How good you feel in me. Both ways.
Your jerk, I feel em become bigger, thicker too.
I suck you off and look at you. With great radiant, sensual, seed asking eyes. And yes, that is possible. Really.
I want you all the way. In me.
It’s allowed to hurt. It’s allowed everything. You can do everything. I can do everything.
no bra club
I meet you at a party.
Dark, warm, mysterious, music that you feel in the inner side of you.
I see you from afar.
You wear a crop top.
You know, one of those tops, just up close and personal to your breasts.
I see you don’t wear a bra.
Even more beautiful.
I see a piece of your breasts. Occasionally. The light is correct. The darkness too.
I see your nipples. Hard. And not occasionally. They are there. Always.
Horny, present, good.
You and me, we started so energetically.
Perfectly matched together.
Magnificent. Hopeful and radiant.
I had the feeling that we were creating something, new, exploring, going off the beaten track, daring, doing it.
We went wrong once before.
Yet, we found each other again.
However, it was no longer as before.
I did my best, I believe you too.
But the enthusiasm was gone. What once was, was. Past perfect tense.
I love your cock when it’s flaccid. And I deliciously have it in my mouth.
Sabbling. Do you so. Is almost sweet. Don’t you think?
I love your cock when it is half hard. And I gently suck on your balls. Feel it?
I love your cock when it gets hard. And I make em harder. Now.
I love your cock when he’s horny hard. Right?
I love it when we tongues and I feel em through your pants. Straight away.
I love your cock when I get em out of your pants. Go on my knees. For you. Bend.
I love your cock when I suck on it, give you a blowjob whilst you move you and eventually me, control me, hold my hair tightly. Deep throat fucking. That’s what its called.
The blue hour is the name for the phenomenon that in the morning, the hour before sunrise and in the evening just after sunset, the air and the surroundings takes on a blue color under certain conditions.
The hour between day and night, neither the one nor the other.
I never understood it correctly, but now I do.
The blue hour is part of twilight, which I already wrote about. The name originated from French: l’heure bleue.
The light is beautiful, very soft with a warm shade.
It shows your skin better.
It shows you, but not all.
Would you wake me up?
Or, for my part, we stay together awake for it.
Fuck me until the sun rises.
sticker (me) girl
Occasionally it happens that I’m approached by someone who reads my blog. I think that’s fantastic and it makes me feel very very honored.
In this case I was approached by a very nice girl. She wrote me to tell me she is a fan of blogporn, how cool is that?
She follows me on Instagram and I follow her back. That’s how it goes, right?
I have looked at her profile and I like her. Already. Because of who she is or what makes me think who she is. Both can and can both. In the wonderful world of social media.
This special girl has name as written in (the) stars. I like it.
Her style is personal and her gaze is steels playful. I hope she holds this, all her life.
I have asked this girl if she wants to sticker for blogporn. She said yes and so this story goes on. Tell the tale, baby.
encore une fois
So I was in France.
I met there a very horny handsome Frenchman.
He called me sa petite.
I called him mon cher charmant.
We spoke the language. And understood each other.
Body language doesn’t need words. And actions speak louder.
Yet, I relearned his language.
And I experienced the art of chemistry. I remembered the art of chemistry.
It was kissing (with the) French.
French Kissing at her best, his best too. After all, a good start, is half the work.
It was French fucking. Yes…