Eau de Man-Stink

In a lot of ways, The Artist is my perfect sexual match: passionate, aggressive, tender, forceful, affectionate. We both have that duality in our sexual nature and successfully feed off eachother, alternating between the kind and the cruel. He loves eating pussy even more than I love sucking cock (which is a lot). We've stood kissing and stroking each other for minutes on end. I've shown up at his place, ripped our clothes off, kissing him so hard our teeth clanged together, and got off all over his face.

My affection for him is totally influenced by the fact that he gave me the biggest, hardest orgasm I've had in years. I'm talkin' uncontrollable screaming, limbs thrashing, muscles clenching so hard I pulled my hamstrings and got a charley horse. God bless that man's mouth.

Mostly it's really rough sex. Me sucking him off while sqeezing his balls and biting his dick; him forcing his cock down my throat and then pinching my nose closed when I start to gag. Riding him with his hands tight around my neck until I see stars. On my back, pounding me so hard he leaves bruises on the inside of my thighs.

For some weird fucking reason, I really like the sweaty, stinking smell of him after sex, and I've actually put my face in his chest hair and armpits to sniff him in. He suggested gagging me with a dirty, sweaty t-shirt of his, and the idea made me dripping wet.