I worked my arse off from April 2012 for some 18 months until August last year. I was posting pretty regular bicep shots as progress reports (you can see them in the sidebar over here), and you can see the overall results on the right there. I’m pretty happy with myself (but never happy enough!) *smile*.
I have a morning routine that I stumble through every day while my brain is hardly even awake. It doesn’t vary unless there is an external reason for it. My extreme love of this habit is slightly disconcerting because comfort in routine seems like it could become quite obsessive.
I wake up, and take stock. Half asleep still. “Can I sleep more?” “Is anything sore?” “Am I *really* awake?”
If the answer to the first is “no”, I masturbate. It is not the sexy lolling about with multiple toys and lots of sexy noise-making that you see in the ‘women
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The first time I had him inside me. I was lounging low and careless on the couch, legs wrapped around him. We had been kissing, desperately and passionately grabbing at each other. I don’t remember our clothes coming off, or even if they were off.
He knelt before me, pushed himself excruciatingly slowly into me, joined at the cock and cunt.
He closed his eyes, his head went back, a blind prayer offered to the ceiling. He moaned. He pulled back, thrust forward again, slow, all sensation and pleasure, hands on my hips holding me steady.