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“It’s so hard to pull myself away from warm naked skin,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed with the same posture you’d see in a boy waiting outside the principal’s office.
“Then don’t,” I answered. “Your kids are gone, my kids are gone, and we’ve got a brand new bed. Stay.” As I spoke, I very gently ran the tips of my fingers up and down his back.
“That’s putting me into a trance.” He pushed toward me like a cat being scratched. Eventually he stretched back, ending up with his head on my leg and his arms reaching from head to toes.
Warm naked skin stroking lead to pussy and cock stroking, and before long all thoughts of getting back to home responsibilities evaporated.
This is where I lose all sense of understanding toward the people who don’t adore sex. Not liking intercourse? Sure, I can see that. Being weirded out by oral? I get it. Not really desiring orgasms? It’s a stretch, but I can grasp that concept.
But who doesn’t love to be pressed against warm naked skin?
******
Psst! I’ve been reading filthy stories! Check out my look at Rachel Kramer Bussel’s newest erotic anthology over at Jane’s Guide.



