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    April 2012
    M T W T F S S

The shower

written 1 month ago

note: this lover is 49, he is amazingly sweet, so funny and treats me like gold.. 

So embarrassed…

standing there, dirty from sex and sweating.

I don’t do well just standing there, naked and waiting.

I don’t know what to do with myself and I am left unsure of what to do.

I am a squirter, so no matter how safe the sex I end up a mess with my cum all over my legs and fanny, or more places depending on the play.

It couldn’t be helped, he excited me so.

It has been such a long time since I felt so dirty, so wet all over.

Sure I have had little orgasms but lately men just haven’t been able to keep up with me or haven’t put in the effort.

Not this gentleman, he treated me right, a real man.

I know age shouldn’t matter and have been with young lads in their 20s, I won’t go for younger, but the younger ones on average are just too much like boys.

Not this one, he held me down and tied me up when I proved to be too difficult.

He knew just what buttons to push or lick or suck and made me scream so loud… it’s been a while since someone has paid attention to me.

Here I am now, naked, dirty, feeling like an idiot as he looks at me. Helping me into the bath, he has me stand there as he wets me down with the water.

I feel so embarrassed by this and I can’t tell why.

He has seen me naked, felt every inch of me and found me beautiful but there is something so painful to me… being inspected, being watched…

Soft strong hands work their way over my body, washing away the sweat and cum, taking away the excitement.

Slowly rubbing soap into his hands before running them once again over my skin.

I watch him watching me and god I want to run away.

I hate this, I hate being on display for him and yet I stand there and watch him enjoying the touch of my flesh under his hands.

Once again with the water, it flows over me softly as he controls where the spray goes.

I am still embarrassed to be standing there but slightly more relaxed, it is almost over.

Taking a towel he dries me off and holds me tight, once again I am safe and protected.

No longer on display, no longer feeling judged.

All along he has found me beautiful, funny how fear can make you feel anything but beautiful…

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poetry, shorts, and other stuff

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