You rock together in a rhythm as old as time, as waves of pleasure on the physical plane, and joy on the spiritual plane wash over you both.As your or...asm subsides into a warm glow, his thrusting grows gentler, virtually stopping at times. Still he moves in and out, almost helplessly. Each gentle thrust of his hips places his body deep inside yours. The simple pleasure of being joined rivals the intensity of the other sensations you have created together. You have no sense of time, or place,. It wouldn’t be like last time, he decided. He wouldn’t let her brush off his proposal as something that would make her life more difficult. He wanted her to be his wife because he loved her. Despite some of the arguments that they had, especially concerning his relationship with Melissa, when they were together it was always amazing. She was always making him laugh with her jokes and her sarcastic wit. She encouraged him when he was having problems with work or if his week wasn’t going as well. While we were stumbling around the floor I was conscious of Paul’s eyes watching my every move. I was sure that I had hurt his feelings by not allowing him to dance with me. This was more or less confirmed when, as I was being seated by my partner at the end of a painful foxtrot and another young man was homing in on me. ‘My turn next Sonny.’ The note on condescension in his voice made the unfortunate young man to cringe away. ‘I insist on the next dance.’ Mother’s look would have caused a less. In the past, I used to look at my breasts with mixed feelings. Sometimes my breasts were a big, cute blessing for all the male attention and female envy I used to get. Numerous boyfriends would joyfully be reduced to "my little boys" for the night, blissfully sucking on "Mommy's big breasts" while making passionate love to "Mommy." (And believe me, "Mommy" thoroughly enjoyed the sucking!) But then sometimes my breasts were a big, difficult obstacle, earning me lust when I needed respect, scorn.