I love edges, obstacles, boundaries. Whether it’s the seam of a woman’s boyshorts in the crease of her thigh, or the meshy lace of a sexy bra (obstacles), or the limits of a woman’s submission (a boundary).
What lies just beyond a boundary is tantalizing, exciting, delicious. And yet, often, often, surmounting a boundary represents a loss just as much as a gain. Anticipation vs. consummation. Getting vs. having.
I hired Diana to stretch with me on Seeking Arrangement.
She’s beautiful. Pale, milky white skin. Big, bright eyes. I can’t tell you what color, because I hadn’t re-mastered the archaic user interface on SA when I interacted with her there, and now, I’ve lost our interactions, and her profile. I can’t go look at the very hot pictures I very vaguely remember she had posted. And my visual memory isn’t such that I know from our very brief close-up face-to-face moments on Zoom. Brown? Maybe? If I had video of her, I could check. But I don’t. (Yet?) (She read this, and confirmed: they’re brown.)
She’s short – maybe 5’3″ or 5’4″, I think she told me. (She read this, and confirmed: 5’3″.) This was a surprise to me. A very nice surprise. In my mind, she was 5’7″. Maybe 5’8″. And the good Lord knows I fucking love shorter women.
She has brown hair, the length of which I haven’t ascertained, as I think it’s been up the times we’ve met.
She has big, full, round, perky breasts for her frame – I would’ve guessed 34C. I did guess 34C. She corrected me.
30C 30DD she said. This was how I learned her height. And, that the scale I was imagining on our zooms was all wrong. Delightfully, deliciously, sumptuously wrong. Note: when she read this, she wrote, “30DD – I can show you sometime if you’d like.” I think you can see how she’s a keeper.
Her ass is big, meaty, for her frame. It’s fucking spectacular. It looks like it could take quite a beating – one far more intense than I’d ever dole out. It looks like I could nibble on it, bite it, squeeze it, knead it, happily for some time. And when she bends over for me, I am one happy man.
And her thighs.
Readers know I’m a big fan of thighs, generally, and of the thighs/clothing-covered pussy view. That’s old news. And it’s generic. I love that view on every woman in the universe. There’s something about the vulnerability – and the obstacles – of that view. The vulnerability, in that it’s a shot it seems no one really is inclined to take, that it exposes a woman pretty fundamentally; the obstacles in that – well, I just always want that view (in my inbox) with a layer or two between me and my quarry.
In person? There’s nothing I like more than progressing past those obstacles, tearing a woman’s panties off and diving into her cunt. But in a photo? In a video? In a session of stretching and yoga? No thank you. Just give me the obstacles, please.
And Diana does. She opens her thighs for me to guide me in a straddle stretch. Or pigeon pose. Or any number of other positions. And her. fucking. thighs.
The thing, though, about Diana that is the best? It’s just… her. Her sweet, sexy, infectious, generous smile and laugh. Her openness and honesty. Her vivaciousness. She’s charming, she’s witty, and while I love stretching with her and devouring her with my eyes, I’d happily just chat with her. What I want from her right now, though, is the visuals and the physical benefits she’s giving me so generously. So that’s what I take from her.
But man, would I love to take much, much, more. [See above: boundaries, obstacles.]
Lately, I’ve been stretching with her several days a week, and those thirty minutes are just so fucking fun. Getting my body
more limber less stiff (stiffer?) with such a delightful, delicious companion/muse/trainer?
Damn, N. You did something right.