Roman's Sex.com
When darkness made sight impossible, he worked by feel, knowing exactly where to draw away what did not belong by the touch of hands and sometimes lips.During the day, with time to reflect, Galatea ran those sensations that were strongest through her mind at leisure. The first and strongest was her creator's love for her as the essence of woman, clear and bright and radiant in his mind. The second, nearly as strong, was his frustration and bitterness at the frailties of women around him, one who had hurt him deeply and recently, the wound showing fresh and pink in his mind. The dichotomy was almost too much for Galatea to bear. Nothing she had experienced so far had prepared her for contradiction, so she saw no contradiction. She ached to communicate with her creator and say, "Do not despair. I am here. And I am all that you seek." But, she could not speak, being marble and, as yet, her head being roughly carved with no lips.Soon enough, she had lips. Her creator came to her every. I'd have to do it in daylight. I couldn't run the risk of the curtains being closed. I'd be vulnerable and displayed skulking beneath windows, up to no good. Yet, thanks to Her Majesty's Government, there were fewer watching eyes to spy on my misdemeanour and in these days of social distancing, as long as I stayed two metres away from every other being no one would pay much attention. In fact, I could probably plonk myself down on any of the park benches, spread my thighs wide, and masturbate myself to endless orgasms with barely a tut or raised eyebrow. I settled in to wait for Sean, to wait for the urge to consume him, for him to flop down, pull out his noble eminence and give the bishop a good bashing. I waited days; keyed up, frustrated, on edge; desperate in my desire for knowledge. And then, last Wednesday, I was sprinting down my stairs, shrugging on my coat and slamming out of my back door. My return home was more sedate, considered, meandering. I circumnavigated the park.
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