River was in the mood a few nights back. Her moods are not to be missed. But I’m not going to tell you how she gave herself an amazing orgasm in what seemed like a very comfortable amount of time, and how she writhed and moaned under me as I fucked her in it, then went on to have several more until finally it was my turn.
I’m going to tell you about a litle bit of fantasy role-playing, and its effect on me. I’d lit the candles, put on the music, and was bedding her . . . in bed. Her bed. Her choice. And somehow the whole scene put me into a Don Juan mood. I thought doing an accent might be liberating. Take me out of myself and into character where I could be free. It turned out to be embarrassing. But I did it anyway, as much as I could.
River was stunningly beautiful in the candlelight. Her skin golden, her shape enticing, her face serene and confident, the shadows mysterious as ever. I totally recommend candlelight. I almost wanted to use the phrase “making love”. Ok, I did use it, but I was in character, with the accent: “You have been made love to by thousands of men. But never by one such as I.”
And afterwards: “I have made love to thousands of women. But never to one such as you. I cannot leave you.”
So, what was the effect on me? I actually enjoyed believing that she’d been made love to by thousands of men. And had chosen me to spend the rest of her life with. I’ve had problems with that sort of thing in the past. It was liberating, being able to feel that way. Or more peroperly perhaps, a sign of my liberation from the past.