The Erotic Typist

He saw the light, he saw the trouble coming, was once strong but now weak, she knew all that was missing within him. She was sex with a wealthy attitude. He waited for her all his long life, he never gave up. He made love to her once, enough to hold on to his lust toward her sexiness. She was a beauty with a wild mind, kinky thoughts would arouse her lines. lean and well endowed she could be a Mans dream. Red was her colour, nude was her theme. He waited for her to see him, he knew she’d want him as soon as her sight fled toward him. She starred at his crotch as she sweated down her lips, she looked tempted with that thirst for his cock. Sad and in despair he only sat there looking at what could be his. Fearless and wanting she waited for him to approach her. The want for love, to be held, to be fucked hard. their minds were on the same wave length. Soon enough he’d grip on to her, play with her body, move his fingers in the places he’d once fantasized touching, love her, fuck her and never stop wanting her. All these visions were what was suppos-ed, implementing their thoughts into the sheets reserved to fold their love and warmth. Love making was only an act as love was in absence.