The romantic of the dick, a TRUE charming prince
Original article in French
http://www.hellocoton.fr/to/16J4g#http://autourdusujet.free.fr/index.php/2013/11/21/le-romantique-de-la-bite-un-vrai-prince-charmant-pour-les-sentimentales-de-la-chatte
Written by Gaelle-Marie Zimmermann:
I would like to pay tribute to a category of men particularly dear to our pussy, our heart ... These men who, while delicacy and subtle attentions, know how to fill us women. We gratify, move us to the deepest of ourselves (that is, far behind the clitoris and just before the tonsils).
These men, more numerous than we think, and entirely devoted, are the Romantics...of the dick.
Yes.
Because the classic romanticism (cozy restaurant, car door held open, languishing looks and fiery statements), it's adorable and we will not spit in the soup, huh, but beside the romanticism of the cock, it's a bit of the hard discount of loving dedication.
And I will go even further and give you a good advice, darling: if you have the chance to cross the path of a romantic of the dick, ESPECIALLY do not let him go. Grab it unscrupulously at the tuft of your subway ticket, hang it on your mouth wide open, adore it with all your tits and enjoy your luck. Because those guys are gems.
So beware, the romantic of the cock is neither a hussy, nor a boor, nor a wooden bear disabled communication. No, it's just a logical dude, who avoids many misunderstandings.
Saint-Exupéry wrote: "We only see well with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye" . And he was right. But I can affirm one thing to you: if you see only with the heart, and the emotions are hidden beyond the visible, you only feel well with your body; because sensations never lie. Except when they are told to close their mouths or refuse to listen to them, in which case the feeling of love can sublimate the very poor fuck and make you blind of the ass: you find yourself then lying to you with skill, telling you stories. stories that you are wonderfully happy, that this magical feeling beautifies everything else and that orgasm is not everything in life, that what you feel goes well beyond. Yeah, that's it. Only I want to tell you that to go far beyond something, you must have already reached, without wanting to make my girlfriend.
Then the romantic of the cock, your body, he appreciates it to death. He loves to kiss you so much that he takes care of you as if you were the most precious diamond; and his dedication goes well beyond his dexterity (indisputable dexterity, for that matter, but it's not even that which counts the most). Thanks to him, romanticism suddenly becomes a notion ... revisited.
First of all, the romantic of the cock is a generous person. A true gourmand, voluptuous greed. And his greed feeds on your own pleasure. Your desire amazes him, and each of your shudders takes him to the brink of ecstasy. All this without any heaviness: it will not make you big speeches, will not spread in flowery compliments (so for those who need to hear to chant that they are living goddesses, will have to iron) and will not melt in Tears of gratitude before your orgasm.
No, the romantic of the cock, he knows that sex is a celebration, a joy of the whole body. He will appreciate you because you do not think it necessary to make him deserve his first blowjob at the cost of three candlelight dinners; because if you want his tail in your mouth, you go for it, and in the contrary case, you abstain; but you do not wonder if a girl who sucks from the start can be respected, and you do not make sex a relational currency.
And he will love you because you will have given without fuss to your own desires (by and large, you have learned that opening your thighs to attract his head is not a favor you make him but an orgasm that you are 'offers). It will savor that you pay a good slice twisting your buttocks under his licks, without worrying about the impression you give at that time: yes, you look like a hottie burning spontaneous and not a lady. It's like that).
He will make you enjoy with pleasure, not to show you how good he is, but because contemplating your orgasm makes him happy. A total joy, pure, without a second thought, as unbridled as that of the first sip of cold beer.
The romantic cock knows that Clitoris is not a name of ancient divinity, but the very current anchor of a pleasure with multiple ramifications. So, he has understood very well that a party without him is never really successful, and that part of ass without the clit, it would be a bit like a boom without the mirror ball (which gives you a mine glitter and sublime your lycra skirt), or an evening at the ambassador's without Ferrero Rocher (no need to remind you how good it is when your tongue finally touches the hazelnut).
The romantic of the dick talks also your boobs with an infallible elegance. Providing them with sustained care without ever getting tired, he can even, in a burst of enthusiasm, note with a delighted skepticism that his hands, however king size, can not contain them completely. [At this point, I know that the Reader small breasts is on the brink of annoyance (I do not throw the stone, Peter), and I understand but can not do anything for her (well I laugh, but I say no harm, promised).]
Moreover, the romantic of the dick worship your ass, and pays homage to him with passion. But your back, your hips, your mouth, so roughly the whole of your body, low-cuts and offal included, are so many reasons to feel, caress, hug, all that by putting the full mirettes. Oh yes, because we must not expect that your crappy complexes will prevent the romantic to rinse the eye. You are not fresh first (or you do not do the 36 / your thighs evoke a pastry custard / your belly is not concave) and you fear the spotlights? Take on yourself if you get there: you would not want to deprive him, right? Anyway, he does not see anything, he has the rod (= brain much less irrigated, the few drops of blood still attached to his left hemisphere being there only to ensure perfect motor coordination). And then put yourself well in the skull: when this man looks at you, he makes you beautiful.
The romantic cock is not necessarily a big talker. It's not that he wants only your ass, far from it: what you have in the skull is also interested (in the case, of course, where you have something in the skull)! But he does not feel the need to put a word on everything, and it is in the erotic intimacy that he will build with you that you will reveal the tangible proof of his attachment. To this man, you end up giving yourself totally, without ever regretting it elsewhere. And as he does not consider your favors as acquired, it will be very lucky to do sex with you. If you tell him that you are lucky, he will defend himself with conviction, and finally declare with a smile that you are both exceptional and unique (he is right). And in the end, he will also give himself, with confidence, and will put himself in your hands with a fervor much more authentic than the fiery statements.
So, the romantic of the cock fucks you and pamper you, which can be tiring (orgasms, like that, full of orgasms in a few hours, it dies). He will want to requinquer you, then, and cook for you. No, leave, it makes him super happy. And if after a piece of disheveled ass you drag at the stake like a sham, he will bring you a tray laden with clapiote and put a drink in your hand. To rise in protesting? Do not even think about it, princess: it's not cooler to have a drink at the stake? Uh, yes, but ... But nothing, you retort. Enjoy, while preparing the meal.
He will also listen to your slightest desires, in the case (rather rare) where he would not have preceded them: that you want, right now, a cunni, a small greyhound speed, a long and tender missionary with intensive pilling or a cuddle head in his neck and his hands rubbing your back, you only have one sentence to pronounce and in less time than it takes to say, you will find yourself thighs around his shoulders / on all fours / on his back / in his arms.
He will not necessarily have the idea to offer you flowers or to decorate you with shiny things like a Christmas tree, but if after a day going to cavort you loose that you have legs in sauce, he will abstain from the emetic "O my poor darling," and opt for efficiency. He will bring you to drink, cushions to wedge comfortably your k**neys, will take in hand the poles that serve as guiboles, and you will massage them for a long time listening to you chatting. For more than an hour. Until you are perfectly relaxed.
If you spend the whole night with the romantic of the dick, know that you will eventually be awakened by a delicate massage. Massage that will conclude with your racking in rule, unless the racking is simultaneous, very likely option too, since the romantic of the cock is sexually multifunctional, like a hot-air oven. Moreover, it is a furnace with rotating heat. Or, he will caress you with a charming inventiveness, accompanied by fervent kneading. But it's you who actually see ... It's your desires that matter above all ... And if your desire of the moment it's just a coffee very sweet, it's feasible too.
The romantic cock is stingy with syrupy words, and that's good. Since he knows what loving means, he will not swallow in any ear words that are sweet and meaningless. But while he's fucking you, he's totally there, present, involved. And when he does not fuck you, he is present too: you always know where to find him and only an unavailability can prevent him from giving you time. In case of glitches, low morale or states of mind (if you have a soul, of course, a bold assumption that contradicts Desproges's doubts about it), it is there, always. Attentive and attentive.
The romantic of the cock is the kind of guy who gives up once tamed, without making his mysterious or his bitch. And to tame the b**st, the pair of stockings, the jaja holder and the merry rump will not be enough, even if it is a good base of discussion. No, to tame it, what is needed is simplicity and time. The time that intimacy and trust settle. The time he sees that his senses and his flair send him very good signals, and that you are exactly what he wants: a woman with a warm butt, with a healthy mind, and who has not exactly for the purpose of taming it.
Basically, with him, everything is simple: you can trust him, and you do not deprive yourself. It's as if sex is cementing everything else. For his part, he also trusts you, and assures you without exaggeration that really, you darken him well. Since he's not the type of guy who makes just statements of intent for the beauty of the gesture, you believe him.
Sometimes you have tender verbal exchanges with the romantic cock. You say sweet words, touching phrases, like "Your tail is a marvel," or "When I think of your language, the carpet in my living room catches fire." It's beautiful as Ronsard.
One day, the romantic of the cock tells you quietly, sipping his coffee: "Nobody ever fucked me like you." Good God shit. You are quite moved, therefore, especially since you know that it is not your ego that it aims. He just said it because he thinks it (otherwise he would not have said anything).
But still, there, you feel that you are in front of a prince charming, a real one.
http://www.hellocoton.fr/to/16J4g#http://autourdusujet.free.fr/index.php/2013/11/21/le-romantique-de-la-bite-un-vrai-prince-charmant-pour-les-sentimentales-de-la-chatte
Written by Gaelle-Marie Zimmermann:
I would like to pay tribute to a category of men particularly dear to our pussy, our heart ... These men who, while delicacy and subtle attentions, know how to fill us women. We gratify, move us to the deepest of ourselves (that is, far behind the clitoris and just before the tonsils).
These men, more numerous than we think, and entirely devoted, are the Romantics...of the dick.
Yes.
Because the classic romanticism (cozy restaurant, car door held open, languishing looks and fiery statements), it's adorable and we will not spit in the soup, huh, but beside the romanticism of the cock, it's a bit of the hard discount of loving dedication.
And I will go even further and give you a good advice, darling: if you have the chance to cross the path of a romantic of the dick, ESPECIALLY do not let him go. Grab it unscrupulously at the tuft of your subway ticket, hang it on your mouth wide open, adore it with all your tits and enjoy your luck. Because those guys are gems.
So beware, the romantic of the cock is neither a hussy, nor a boor, nor a wooden bear disabled communication. No, it's just a logical dude, who avoids many misunderstandings.
Saint-Exupéry wrote: "We only see well with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye" . And he was right. But I can affirm one thing to you: if you see only with the heart, and the emotions are hidden beyond the visible, you only feel well with your body; because sensations never lie. Except when they are told to close their mouths or refuse to listen to them, in which case the feeling of love can sublimate the very poor fuck and make you blind of the ass: you find yourself then lying to you with skill, telling you stories. stories that you are wonderfully happy, that this magical feeling beautifies everything else and that orgasm is not everything in life, that what you feel goes well beyond. Yeah, that's it. Only I want to tell you that to go far beyond something, you must have already reached, without wanting to make my girlfriend.
Then the romantic of the cock, your body, he appreciates it to death. He loves to kiss you so much that he takes care of you as if you were the most precious diamond; and his dedication goes well beyond his dexterity (indisputable dexterity, for that matter, but it's not even that which counts the most). Thanks to him, romanticism suddenly becomes a notion ... revisited.
First of all, the romantic of the cock is a generous person. A true gourmand, voluptuous greed. And his greed feeds on your own pleasure. Your desire amazes him, and each of your shudders takes him to the brink of ecstasy. All this without any heaviness: it will not make you big speeches, will not spread in flowery compliments (so for those who need to hear to chant that they are living goddesses, will have to iron) and will not melt in Tears of gratitude before your orgasm.
No, the romantic of the cock, he knows that sex is a celebration, a joy of the whole body. He will appreciate you because you do not think it necessary to make him deserve his first blowjob at the cost of three candlelight dinners; because if you want his tail in your mouth, you go for it, and in the contrary case, you abstain; but you do not wonder if a girl who sucks from the start can be respected, and you do not make sex a relational currency.
And he will love you because you will have given without fuss to your own desires (by and large, you have learned that opening your thighs to attract his head is not a favor you make him but an orgasm that you are 'offers). It will savor that you pay a good slice twisting your buttocks under his licks, without worrying about the impression you give at that time: yes, you look like a hottie burning spontaneous and not a lady. It's like that).
He will make you enjoy with pleasure, not to show you how good he is, but because contemplating your orgasm makes him happy. A total joy, pure, without a second thought, as unbridled as that of the first sip of cold beer.
The romantic cock knows that Clitoris is not a name of ancient divinity, but the very current anchor of a pleasure with multiple ramifications. So, he has understood very well that a party without him is never really successful, and that part of ass without the clit, it would be a bit like a boom without the mirror ball (which gives you a mine glitter and sublime your lycra skirt), or an evening at the ambassador's without Ferrero Rocher (no need to remind you how good it is when your tongue finally touches the hazelnut).
The romantic of the dick talks also your boobs with an infallible elegance. Providing them with sustained care without ever getting tired, he can even, in a burst of enthusiasm, note with a delighted skepticism that his hands, however king size, can not contain them completely. [At this point, I know that the Reader small breasts is on the brink of annoyance (I do not throw the stone, Peter), and I understand but can not do anything for her (well I laugh, but I say no harm, promised).]
Moreover, the romantic of the dick worship your ass, and pays homage to him with passion. But your back, your hips, your mouth, so roughly the whole of your body, low-cuts and offal included, are so many reasons to feel, caress, hug, all that by putting the full mirettes. Oh yes, because we must not expect that your crappy complexes will prevent the romantic to rinse the eye. You are not fresh first (or you do not do the 36 / your thighs evoke a pastry custard / your belly is not concave) and you fear the spotlights? Take on yourself if you get there: you would not want to deprive him, right? Anyway, he does not see anything, he has the rod (= brain much less irrigated, the few drops of blood still attached to his left hemisphere being there only to ensure perfect motor coordination). And then put yourself well in the skull: when this man looks at you, he makes you beautiful.
The romantic cock is not necessarily a big talker. It's not that he wants only your ass, far from it: what you have in the skull is also interested (in the case, of course, where you have something in the skull)! But he does not feel the need to put a word on everything, and it is in the erotic intimacy that he will build with you that you will reveal the tangible proof of his attachment. To this man, you end up giving yourself totally, without ever regretting it elsewhere. And as he does not consider your favors as acquired, it will be very lucky to do sex with you. If you tell him that you are lucky, he will defend himself with conviction, and finally declare with a smile that you are both exceptional and unique (he is right). And in the end, he will also give himself, with confidence, and will put himself in your hands with a fervor much more authentic than the fiery statements.
So, the romantic of the cock fucks you and pamper you, which can be tiring (orgasms, like that, full of orgasms in a few hours, it dies). He will want to requinquer you, then, and cook for you. No, leave, it makes him super happy. And if after a piece of disheveled ass you drag at the stake like a sham, he will bring you a tray laden with clapiote and put a drink in your hand. To rise in protesting? Do not even think about it, princess: it's not cooler to have a drink at the stake? Uh, yes, but ... But nothing, you retort. Enjoy, while preparing the meal.
He will also listen to your slightest desires, in the case (rather rare) where he would not have preceded them: that you want, right now, a cunni, a small greyhound speed, a long and tender missionary with intensive pilling or a cuddle head in his neck and his hands rubbing your back, you only have one sentence to pronounce and in less time than it takes to say, you will find yourself thighs around his shoulders / on all fours / on his back / in his arms.
He will not necessarily have the idea to offer you flowers or to decorate you with shiny things like a Christmas tree, but if after a day going to cavort you loose that you have legs in sauce, he will abstain from the emetic "O my poor darling," and opt for efficiency. He will bring you to drink, cushions to wedge comfortably your k**neys, will take in hand the poles that serve as guiboles, and you will massage them for a long time listening to you chatting. For more than an hour. Until you are perfectly relaxed.
If you spend the whole night with the romantic of the dick, know that you will eventually be awakened by a delicate massage. Massage that will conclude with your racking in rule, unless the racking is simultaneous, very likely option too, since the romantic of the cock is sexually multifunctional, like a hot-air oven. Moreover, it is a furnace with rotating heat. Or, he will caress you with a charming inventiveness, accompanied by fervent kneading. But it's you who actually see ... It's your desires that matter above all ... And if your desire of the moment it's just a coffee very sweet, it's feasible too.
The romantic cock is stingy with syrupy words, and that's good. Since he knows what loving means, he will not swallow in any ear words that are sweet and meaningless. But while he's fucking you, he's totally there, present, involved. And when he does not fuck you, he is present too: you always know where to find him and only an unavailability can prevent him from giving you time. In case of glitches, low morale or states of mind (if you have a soul, of course, a bold assumption that contradicts Desproges's doubts about it), it is there, always. Attentive and attentive.
The romantic of the cock is the kind of guy who gives up once tamed, without making his mysterious or his bitch. And to tame the b**st, the pair of stockings, the jaja holder and the merry rump will not be enough, even if it is a good base of discussion. No, to tame it, what is needed is simplicity and time. The time that intimacy and trust settle. The time he sees that his senses and his flair send him very good signals, and that you are exactly what he wants: a woman with a warm butt, with a healthy mind, and who has not exactly for the purpose of taming it.
Basically, with him, everything is simple: you can trust him, and you do not deprive yourself. It's as if sex is cementing everything else. For his part, he also trusts you, and assures you without exaggeration that really, you darken him well. Since he's not the type of guy who makes just statements of intent for the beauty of the gesture, you believe him.
Sometimes you have tender verbal exchanges with the romantic cock. You say sweet words, touching phrases, like "Your tail is a marvel," or "When I think of your language, the carpet in my living room catches fire." It's beautiful as Ronsard.
One day, the romantic of the cock tells you quietly, sipping his coffee: "Nobody ever fucked me like you." Good God shit. You are quite moved, therefore, especially since you know that it is not your ego that it aims. He just said it because he thinks it (otherwise he would not have said anything).
But still, there, you feel that you are in front of a prince charming, a real one.
7 years ago