Pale skin. What is it about pale skin that makes me want to touch it gently, caress it, kneed it under my fingers and just enjoy the silkiness of it? Take the woman sitting over in the corner right now. For the last half hour, I’ve been trying to focus on doing some work. But the only thing I’ve been able to think about is how much I want to tie her down to a bed, spread-eagled and slowly massage every inch, every curve. And when she’s finally panting, legs quivering, cunt dripping, I want to straddle her chest, my hard cock poised directly over her pale cheeks and blue eyes and slowly, soothingly stroke myself into a powerful, shuddering cum. I imagine her eyes looking up, taking in my hardness, my pumping hand, my eyes focused on her face. She’ll know that I’m enjoying the anticipation, the knowing. She’ll know that I’m trying hard to delay the moment when I will finally succumb and let the sensations take me over the edge. My cock will pulse, once, twice, and then a jet of hot, white cum will stream across her flushed cheek, over her nose and up over the clear skin of her forehead. She will gasp and her tongue will lazily search out across her lips, seeking out a taste of saltiness. Another jet and another pump from my throbbing cock painting her face and, yes, her tongue, with cum.
I can’t get the image out of my head. I want it like I want a drink of water on a hot day. It’s not a whim. It’s a desire that requires quenching. If I strolled up to her and told her what was on my mind, what do you think she would say...?
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