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Borya, the fearless and determined revolutionary leader, finds his secret desires reawakened.


Anr Erotica

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We were teenagers, wonderfully intoxicated by our love for each other. As we drove away from my house, fully intending to go to the diner, there were a couple miles of awkward silence. Then he turned and gazed at me and our eyes met: our destination had changed without a word being said. We shared smiles of nervous anticipation.

Gwendolin
Age: 24
Nationality: Romanian
My sexual preference: Male
Color of my hair: Dark-haired
In my spare time I love: Sports
Body tattoos: None

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There is no yet of dawn through the blinds at the foot of the bed, and our room is dark and quiet. This moment is among the most intimate of my life, gazing down upon the man who holds my heart while he suckles the sweet nectar I offer. Back door opens. Dinner waits in the oven while I wait in our bed, straining to hear his car enter the driveway.

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After the shower, I dry anr erotica brush my hair. He turns the corner, catches my eyes, sees the need there and the pain, too, from breasts that are too, too swollen. He scatters kisses across the flat of my belly, lightly along my hip, inside my thigh…his fingertips exploring every inch of soft skin and traveling down to the curve of my ass to pull me near and tight. I watch him sleep, marveling at the wonder he brings to my life. My body is his home, and his is mine. The refrigerator and cupboards are filled. His suckling becomes agonizingly slow…more breast play than nursing…his tongue circling each nipple insistently, paying homage to the tender erect flesh while his fingers move low, seeking my center.

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He finds my nipple in the dark, latching on and suckling gently. His mouth was made for my nipples. That I am tight and throbbing around him pushes him over the edge, too, and he soon explodes into me, filling me with warmth, his body shuddering with the long-awaited release.

I lean forward so that he can take my nipple again in his mouth and the sudden intensity of his suckling combined with the pressure of his cock straining to open me is more than I can bear. The fresh scent of his favorite shampoo penetrates long copper strands. I straddle him, unable to resist the urge now to tease him, exploiting his erection by keeping just the tip of him there waiting to enter me.

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He holds my nipple firmly with his teeth to make sure it remains his, and I have no choice except to prop pillows behind his head to bring him closer to me, allowing him to recline half-sitting while he takes both breasts in his hands, massaging my fullness and greedily taking first one erect nipple into his mouth, then the other, then back again.

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I revel in his harsh gasp of breath as I wrap my fingers fully around him and stroke him gently, base to head then back again, a bit firmer on each of a dozen passes as he throbs insistently against my palm. The house is impeccable. Eyes on his, I slide down the shaft, surrounding him completely in one motion, lost in the sensation of being instantly stretched by him and full.

He adores that I am smooth and clean and waiting, closes his eyes and allows my scent to surround him. Friday p. I open myself to him. I draw the covers around my hips and place my hands on the bed above his head for leverage, then submit to the ageless rhythm, riding his cock while suckles my sweet milk, each of us full with the other and release fast approaching like an oncoming train.

Only him. Friday morning. I need him desperately…my breasts ache for him, body and soul follow…and he needs me, too. He feeds me dinner with his fingers…brushes my nipples with the backs of his hands between bites and I am instantly aroused. Sweet Jesus, I hear the car. I pull his head nearer, impossible to get any closer, fingers in his hair and stroking him…wrap him in my arms, unable to speak because the milk let-down is so heavenly. Since he left hours ago, well before seven this morning, my breasts are beginning to feel very full.

As I finally reach to take him fully in my hand, I know already that he is hard, desperately needing release. His thumb finds me there, as painfully swollen as my breasts were this afternoon, and gently he strokes and caresses me, opening me slowly, his mouth soon following. His expression is so peaceful, his body relaxed and nestled against me. Friday noon. Exhaustion sets in and my body is spent…without asking, he reaches up to me, surrounds me in strong arms and holds me tight while I return to this world, safe, focusing anr erotica on his breathing and heartbeat to guide me while I drift.

Together we come until we both are spent, and many minutes later, I rest on top of him, my sticky breasts against his chest and my face buried in his neck, his arms holding me tight. Nursing him is a sacred gift, worthy of a divine temple, and I am the reverent but slightly naughty caretaker.

Yogurt is a favorite, fresh fruit…plenty of anr erotica water and juices. Friday, p. I have errands to do this morning…first to the food market, then to my favorite boutique for sexy lingerie, last to the florist for a beautiful arrangement to grace our bedroom.

The intensity of it takes my breath away. Weeks ago I purchased exquisite nursing bras to surprise him. He mirrors my touch with his tongue on my nipple, his suckling intense and firm when I stroke him fully, exquisitely gentle and slow when I lightly caress the head. I create an elegant French knot, pinning my hair up for now…before bed, he likes removing the pins and taking it down for himself. Saturday morning, before sunrise. Keywords abf anr breastfeeding erotic lactation milk nursing.

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I ache for more, needing him the way only a woman can need a man upon waking. Though he plans to nurse exclusively during the day, sharing dinner with me only at night, I know that my own body will demand constant nourishment because for him, I must make sweet milk. Tonight, I am cooking for him, and soon I must begin preparing the meal.

Not one element of the outside world will intrude upon this intimate fantasy we create together. I kiss his face, stroke his cheek, draw him near to me.

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If breastmilk was wine, aficionados such as he would describe it reverently…highlights of apple, butterscotch, vanilla. He patiently empties every drop of milk, first one pale breast and then the other, and as he senses the heaviness diminish, he knows that I am fully aroused. Out of the tub he towels me dry, head to toe…follows the trails of freckles with his mouth, lingering here or there with sweet kisses, or sometimes gentle bites.

Garage door closes. For the remainder of the weekend, we share my breasts together. I float to consciousness before my eyes open.

Sometimes the moments when he comes to me are exquisitely tender and vulnerable, other times greedy and passionate and a prelude to intense lovemaking. I call again to tell anr erotica how full and ready I am…waiting for him. His senses are on fire, his breath ragged and his voice hoarse and trembling. Craves the sweet milk I offer, the tender touch and feminine softness that erase the harsh world, the oasis of comfort and acceptance found only at my breast and in my arms. I wait for him…breathless…my nipples moist in anticipation with no stimulation beyond his footsteps drawing nearer down the hall.

He sleeps peacefully beside me, his right hand possessively cupping anr erotica curve of my hip, his breathing gentle and even. My thumb finds the slick, milky drops forming at the tip, and I long to taste him. Friday, 2 p. Snuggled into our bed, skin to skin, he begins nursing once more…tenderly but with much passion and awe…the most exquisite foreplay. I like that he is tender with me in the morning. Total 0 votes. I take a shower and luxuriate in the heat of the water and the steam, momentary sweet relief for the pain of near engorgement.

The sanctuary that is our bedroom is ready for tonight…freshly laundered and sun-dried sheets are smooth on the plumped feather bed, ample pillows are carefully arranged to support him as he nurses, and a soft down comforter waits to protect us from the early-morning chill. He is slow this morning, lazily suckling then submitting to sleep, then suckling again. No matter, it is our anchor, the very foundation of our intimacy and our deepest longing made real.

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Friday, late at night. He cannot take much more of this, nor can I. I am wet, and ready. With my palm I trace the corner of his jaw, dragging my fingers along his neck, behind his shoulder, firmly down his arm and across his chest, stopping here or there to knead away the tension left from his giving me pleasure before sleep yet denying his own.

Soon he is close, so I make a circle with my fingers, hold it tight against the base and let him rest before beginning yet again. When it hits, we are one. Completely relaxed and at peace, his breathing slows…mine, too…I gently nurse him to sleep. On that edge, though, I want to live and breathe in the feel of him there, exploring every fold and contour, kisses indistinct from my own wetness and holding me just at the brink. Car door slams. My body is soft and warm and glows from the heat of the bath.

Tongue flat and lips wet, I take him deep into my mouth…his cock jumps and he inhales sharply. Friday, 4 p. I love giving him pleasure like this, find sheer delight in nursing from him as he does every day from me. He can be vulnerable here, and I love him unconditionally, love him even in his naked need…especially then.

Finally I can take no more, and when the wave begins, his arms tighten while his tongue insists that I submit, suckling my very core as he earlier was at my breast, allowing me to roll with the sweet orgasm tide over and over and over again. God, Anr erotica need him. Delicate notes of grass and honey.