The thought of you coming home with the residue off another woman’s juices still in your lips. That you don’t even have to say a word – I can smell the infidelity on your breath, her perfume lingering on your chest – smeared in long sensual streaks from where you pulled her close, enveloping her in your muscular arms even as her volumous, silky breasts overtake your own, made concave against the muscle in your well-developed pecs. Tao. Yin and Yang. Entangled in a beautiful dance, dirvishes brought to life by primal and rythmic dry humping as you press your formidable clit against her soft thighs as your mouths, sealed together, unify your bodies end-to-end.
She is young and inexperienced. In her overzealousness she drives her tongue clumsily and eagerly into you mouth as if she wishes for you to subsume her into yourself – to take her body as your own. You feel her hot saliva, the fluids of a stranger, fall from her tongue onto your own – mingling, stirred into a froth in the passionate fury. Her pelvis slamming against your own in the tangled mass of limbs, her swollen pussy sputterring and leaking dollops of squaline without discretion, without regard for common decency. A gluttonous slob displaying no decorum in the presence of a royal banquet, a flippant teenager in the presence of a michaelangalo, unable to appreciate the depth of the human experience, for her own lack thereof.