The many textures of desire

There is a question about sex that I've never really understood: What's your type?

Really? My type? When? Today? Last week? In the morning? At night in a happy, chatty pub? Could you possibly be more specific?

Having a "type" seems like a cop-out, an assignation to expectation and convention. A careless slotting into a box that helps those around us feel they "know" us. But I think committing to a "type" is the equivalent of saying there is only one painting you admire. It's limiting and reductive.

Today, for example, my head keeps turning at the sight of pale-skinned, brown-eyed women who look like some throwback to a more more ancient aesthetic. The modern greek goddess with a slight curl to her locks and a cool confidence and a look of seriousness about her eyes. I'm in a worshiping mood today.

Take the woman who just left. Tall and slim (but with some hip and some curve), with the pale skin and dark hair of a carefully tended deity. A milk and honey girl. A woman like that makes me want to immediately drop to my knees and drink her in.

There you have it. I love to give... yes, full lips and tongue buried in the warm, moist folds of your cunt. And not just a cursory licking. That's criminal. I crave long, deep massages with lips and tongue, arms and hands holding you firmly as I feel you swell and spread and flow under my tongue. Gorgeous.

And for some reason, it's the goddess-girls who bring that out the most in me. Today's girl brought on an immediate wave of tongue lust. I wanted to push her forward over the coffee bar counter and bury my mouth between her cheeks. Licking and pressing deeper, running my tongue along her cunt and ass, drinking her in.

It's funny, that. How a simple look or demeanor can bring out completely different desires in me. Bright,cheery, chatty girls, for example. I usually have an instant vision of yanking their workout stretch pants down past their ankles, pushing them back over a library table and banging them for all they're worth.

It's not too surprising, I guess, that the way we perceive someone would bring out specific desires and reactions in us.

The tiny pale girl at the cash now. Pony tail, looking chilly, but with full, sensual lips and a long, gently upturned nose brings out a completely different reaction. I want to gently push her to her knees, and press my hardening cock between those full, sensuous lips. I want to video tape it all, slick hard cock plunging in and out between those softly pillowed lips. And I want to cover her face in cum. I know. Cliche. But I don't crave that in every case. There is just something about her gorgeous skin and delicate cheeks...

So next time you see that man who smiles and says hello but gives you a lingering assessment, a slight glaze in his eyes, he might just be dreaming of you on your knees, your face covered in hot, dripping pleasure...