December 2024 – audio version

For the millionth time, I found myself wishing Jack could teach a master class on the art of adoring my bosom, on how to caress and tease with a level of devotion that would unlock the deepest waves of pleasure.

My eyes, still heavy with the remnants of a rare afternoon nap, fluttered open. It was a luxury I seldom indulged in during such a busy season. Jack had discovered me curled around my body pillow, and with the quiet strength of a guardian, he had wrapped his form protectively around mine, his legs entwining with mine as I slept. I had woken slowly to the warmth of the afternoon, his lips brushing softly against my neck, his strong arm draped over my waist, and his unmistakable granite pressing against me—a silent testament to the depths of his desire.

I stretched lazily, basking in the heat of his body and the gentle pressure of his need. My Inner Goddess, still drowsy beneath the softness of the covers, stirred with anticipation. Slyly, I reached for my toy, knowing that just a touch of stimulation would awaken her fully. I slipped out of my plaid Christmas loungers with a quiet thrill, the cool air teasing my skin.

I began at the lowest setting, the vibrations soft against my hooded pearl, sending shivers through me. Jack, already leaning on one elbow beside me, his athletic form a perfect contrast to my softness, slipped a palm beneath my gray sweater. I moaned as his touch made my skin feel like silk, his fingers exploring the familiar curves of my form. I nestled deeper into the snugness of the bed, my eyes closing as I surrendered to the intoxicating seduction of his adoration.

Jack’s large hands gently lifted the soft fabric, exposing my bare breasts to the cool winter air. My nipples responded instinctively, my skin prickling as the temperature shifted, and the warmth of his touch sent ripples of euphoria through me. His hands, strong yet tender, kneaded the soft curves of my ample bosom as his lips traced delicate paths along the center of my chest, over every inch of my breasts. He carefully bypassed the sensitive peaks, focusing instead on the tender expanse of my ribs, the side of my body, and the soft line of my neck. My breath caught in my throat, my body left trembling with anticipation as my Inner Goddess wondered where his next touch would land, where his lips would find their next haven.

I heightened the vibration, intensifying the stimulus and allowing it to layer upon itself like an unyielding swell. Euphoria surged within me, its rising tide akin to the fervent warmth of the sun’s rays. It slowly unfurled beneath my skin, each moment deepening the pleasure with a maddening, sweet insistence.

When his lips finally found the curve of my breast, my body—already trembling with anticipation—exploded in response. I pressed the final level on my toy, and the vibrations surged, deepening the intoxication with a ferocity that seemed to ignite every nerve. My body arched toward the pinnacle of the moment, helplessly drawn by the rush. Jack’s attention was unwavering, his lips and hands moving with a reverent tenderness, lips sucking and savoring every inch of me. His touch, both an offering and a promise, sent shockwaves of pleasure crashing through me, leaving me breathless, consumed by the aching desire of what was yet to come.

At last, my body fractured in a million shimmering pieces, my cries filling the quiet room. My Inner Goddess shrieked in pure ecstasy, wishing that all men could know the exquisite techniques Jack employed to bring me to my greatest, most radiant manifestation. My breasts were not meant to merely be admired; they were meant to be cupped, suckled, caressed, every inch of their costly form adored and cherished, our very essence celebrated with firm reverence.

While I am grateful, when the gods themselves bestow their lips upon my breasts, it is never quite as it should be. They focus solely on the soft, round curvature and budding nipple, leaving much of my erogenous zones untouched. My Inner Goddess, in the intimate moments with the divine, struggles to express our gratitude for this singular devotion, yet yearns for the gods to venture further, traversing the length and breadth of my form in a harmonious union, as my toy rumbles its solitary joy to my most sacred place. 

How I wish Jack could teach a master class, revealing the delicate mastery with which he tends to the most hidden corners of my body. He knows how to make every touch an offering, each caress an exquisite whisper that awakens the depths of my most sacred zones. His large hands, though gentle, move with a purposeful grace, guiding my body to realms of pleasure no other can. It is as if, by some divine alchemy, he slices through the tethers that bind my mortal form to the earth. His devotion—pure, steady, and unwavering—weaves a spell that makes every kiss, every touch, every soft graze of his fingertips a sacrament that transcends mere sensations. The way he adores me, his focus so attuned to the smallest shift of my body, is enough to lift me from the realm of the earthly, into the divine, where only he can take me.

Gasping, I placed the now silent toy aside on the headboard, my fingers trembling as I sought him, pulling him over me, aching with the hunger of a week’s abstinence. I craved the sacred union of our bodies, desiring his magnificent presence to fill the cavernous void, the yearning that had built and built, calling for him, for us, to become whole once more.

Though it was an act we had performed countless times, the power of his first thrust unraveled us at the edges, weaving our souls together in ways no mortal words could capture—our flesh entwined in sacred union, a bond of unspeakable beauty and holiness.

It was swift, passionate, and fervent, a symphony of longing and intensity that left me insatiable. My mind spiraled, my body ablaze with each shuddering peak, yet my soul ached—longing for the next, even more intoxicating impact of his relentless, indomitable hips. Thrust after thrust, cry after cry, my nails dug deep into his bronzed shoulders. 

Until, at last, our heartbeats aligned, a rhythmic pulse that echoed through the quiet of the afternoon. His breath, labored and heavy, mingled with my own in desperate, yearning gasps, each one carrying us closer to the edge. The midday light wrapped around us like a gentle, golden veil, as though the world itself held its breath. Our bodies, united in one fiery crescendo, surged toward a magnificent, triumphant release as though we had conjured a spell that bent the very air around us. In that fleeting moment, everything else faded—there was only the heat of our connection, burning brightly beneath the calm of the winter day.

It ended slightly sooner than either of us had anticipated, yet neither of us was left with doubt or a sense of emptiness. Our immediate yearning had been sated, and there would be time enough for lingering kisses, slow thrusts, and hellacious commentary later. But this moment—this fleeting, burning connection—had been the desperate hunger of a starving man, an unspeakable need for one another, a desire too deep for words. 

Curled into his chest, I breath whispered softly, feeling the weight of my satisfaction. My thighs glistened with the evidence of our communion, my once ragged pulse slowly settling, my hair disheveled as I nestled closer to him. In that moment, I felt as though I had never known a greater happiness than the one I now carried in the quiet, steady rhythm of our breaths.

Until next time, XO Elsie