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…you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turned over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stripped heart… ~W. Whitman
He came, then fell down in exhaustion with his body between my legs and his cheek over my solar plexus.
I stroked his hair, his neck, his shoulders. As our breathing returned to normal, I realized what that thumping feeling was.
It was his heart. I could feel his heart pounding directly above my uterus.
A little later we rearranged ourselves so that my head rested on his lower belly. As we talked, I idly stroked his exhausted cock, marveling at the thick veins still bulging on its underside.
It was too soon to think of starting another round, and yet I couldn’t keep my tongue away from those thick veins. Very gently (because he’d badly bruised himself on me earlier) I kissed the veins through the delicate layer of skin. I sucked—so very very gently!—the skin into my mouth.
The kissing and the sucking lead precisely nowhere. He didn’t get hard again. Well, he didn’t get completely hard again. It was too soon. But that didn’t really matter.
I’m not sure what could be closer than feeling his heart beating over my uterus, or kissing the veins standing out through the skin of his cock.
If I find out though, I’ll be sure to let you know.
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Pssst. Tomorrow is this site’s 2nd birthday. Come by then for some surprises!



