About
I like writing erotica in graphic terms. I also like chatting, but please don't regale me with dick pics. I know what dicks look like. Please spend time chatting with me before dragging out the sex talk. Just because I write erotica doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you sight unseen. If you can't abide by this, I'll cut off conversation and block you.
Also, opening chat with "How are you" is kind of lame. You don't really care about my well-being because you don't know me. It's better to come up with an interesting anecdote or something funny. "How are you" is weak. "Weak" is how a man pays his way into the party if he hasn't the guts to be tough or the brains to be witty. Of these, I prefer the latter.
In another hidden nook, Kurt Kuhlmann, Angie Devi and Delphia Giles were taking advantage of Denise Allen’s absence. Kurt stood naked before the two women. His penis bulged forth, fully erect, fully blooded, ponderous with the heft of his otherworldly lust. Delphia held it in one hand. Kneeling, her face was off to one side. Angie, also kneeling, confronted Kurt’s dick head-on. She seemed amazed. “See how big it is?” Delp...
Blue Jenkins worked as a field hand on Hank Leone's farm in Northeast Louisiana. He was a slave. Now in his late-twenties, Blue had been purchased from the Jenkins Farm for a nominal sum two decades back and retained the Jenkins' family name. Blue was tall, muscular, possessed of a pleasing cinnamon complexion, a dazzling smile and a square jaw. He had a hairy breast; his head was shaved bald. In deference to his complexi...
“You never told me your dick was this big,” Sharon observed. Kurt didn’t respond. His erection was becoming painful. Having exhausted his store of excess semen in Paula Fowler’s cunt the day before, Kurt just needed to calm himself. By now, he well knew the tranquil joy of marinating his cock deep inside a woman’s vagina. He’d never fucked Sharon and, if he had his way tonight, that oversight would be rectified. Sharon wa...
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