Freedom

A Sexual Fantasy

— By Randall Mack

Oh my Love, my Sexy Shapely Beautiful Love, you are fucking amazing. Lying on our bed, naked for you, I’m propped up on a pile of fat pillows, watching you. Gazing at your body in the erotic shadows of the dim light as you stand there bare-legged and topless. My god, your form. My Love, you are a stunning sight. Watching you, then, as you tilt forward from the waist, reaching down as you gracefully lift one pointed toe, stepping out of your little panties and letting them drop to the floor in a fist-sized pile around a single fair feminine ankle. Breezily kicking them aside, without a conscious thought your hands begin lifting and sensually stroking your fabulous silky creamy breasts and rising nipples, touching yourself freely, even casually, clearly from a habit of self-pleasure.

Biting your bottom lip as your smiling eyes look deeply into mine, betraying the smallest fading bit of self-consciousness as it completely melts away, empowering you instead with ecstatic rising desire and the surging, soaring sense of sexual freedom that floods your magnificent body and swells your ravenous soul. All the heat of self-determination that moves you and drives you as you give yourself fully to our passionate shared lust, fulfilling all our emotional wants and physical desires.

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