Hope’s orgasms – and her thighs

Every so often, I hear from Hope. A little less often, I ping her.

There’s something a little… maddening?… about Hope’s engagement with me.

She decided, several years ago, that – as much as she had hoped, imagined, that she and I were meant to be together, in reality, I am a bit of a disappointment to her. I’m not effusive enough in my praise, I don’t communicate enough – in the moment – what she does to my cock. I don’t instruct her enough as she sucks my cock, don’t tell her what to do with her mouth, with her tongue, with her hands.

She has (or at least, pre-pandemic, had) a stable of men who provided her what her husband can’t in the way of excitement. Use. Fucking.

And still, there’s something I have that Hope craves. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but there’s something. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she didn’t just enjoy sucking my cock when she did, but that she liked me. That we get along. Connect. Have things to talk about.

Some months ago, Hope came to me, and – among other things – she came for me. As she did, I was reminded of how hard Hope fights to come. Her orgasms aren’t instant. They take a while. And they’re not easy.

This morning, as I anticipated an upcoming, likely chaste, rendezvous with Hope, I found myself reading some old posts about her. And listening to some of the (exceedingly hot) orgasms she had sent me, all those years ago.

And compiling them on my orgasms page where they hadn’t landed. Somewhere along the line, I became lax about adding orgasms to that page. I’m striving, slowly, to promote all the orgasms women have sent me over the years to that page. But, for now, I just added four of Hope’s. Which means they’re easier for you (and me) to find.

I had a couple of thoughts, in the lead-up to our date:

  1. I need to hear Hope come. Now.
  2. I need to make Hope understand how fucking hard her orgasms – and just the thought of her pretty face, and her muscular, fun body – make me.
  3. need to taste Hope’s cunt. Again.
  4. really need to feel Hope’s mouth on my cock. Again.

Now. I’ve known Hope long enough – and I understand where she is in life right now well enough – to know that 3 and 4 both are unlikely now and, if they ever are to happen, depend not just on 2 happening a lot, but also on her being in a somewhat different headspace. Both in general, and with respect to me. And, that it’s all pretty unlikely, regardless.

So I won’t (most likely) taste Hope’s cunt in the coming days. And she won’t (most likely) feel my hard cock deep in her mouth, twitching, throbbing, as she presses against it with her tongue, as she guides (as I guide) her lips up and down my shaft. As I tell her how good her mouth feels on my cock. As I call her a good girl.

That’s a shame.

I will, though, get to see Hope. To direct her. To dress her in a lovely black dress that, if it’s warm enough, will allow me to see those meaty thighs I so enjoy.

And maybe (though almost certainly not, alas), to grip one or both of them, hard, with my (strong) hands.

And who knows – maybe, maybe (though almost certainly not), I’ll even be able to dip one or more of my fingers into her sweet pussy. If only…. To feel the juices that she wants to feel flowing, that are, in fact, the reason she reached out to me.

I have zero expectations in regard to anything other than visuals and proximity. I know Hope. I’m paying attention.

And. I know Hope well enough to know that she gets something from me that I get from her: a feeling of being alive. (I don’t feel particularly desired by her in the way I wish I did. But I did, once. I hope to, again.) And even if that’s all it is, I will relish the opportunity to give Hope that.

Hope is super-hot. It is a shame that she doesn’t know, intuitively, in her body, how fucking hot she is. How fucking delicious she is. Like many of us, Hope needs at least some external confirmation, validation, of her desirability in order to feel desirable. Not always, but sometimes.

I plan, over the coming days, to give her that. And I’m hopeful that she will help me in that by coming for me, now, as (soon as?) she reads this. For me to hear. For me to stroke my cock to. For me to come to.

And, if she’s willing, for you to hear.

Not Hope. But Kennedy Leigh always reminds me of her.

Postscript: she sent me an orgasm – delicious, breathy, yummy – which you can hear, here:

But…. (spoiler alert)…. this orgasm came AFTER the date I was anticipating when I wrote this. Which was super-hot. And about which you’ll learn, soon enough….

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