Nothing is like anything else if we look closely. I have the most bodyish body I could be given, replete in every way. What am I to myself. I am one of my sensations, till it is replaced by the next sensation. Sensation of my body felt subjectively. To feel everything in every way. The bad, the good, the perverse, the pleasure. Without adding to it. Things must be felt as they are.

There is nothing more sensitive than my cock. My cock is full of sensations. A woman’s cunt is likewise sensational. She is a masturbator, and sometimes she seeks a man to share her masturbatory habit. The pleasure is multiplied two fold when we masturbate together. She wore a short summer dress with nothing underneath. She had long hair that came down to the crack of her ass, and she had colored her cupid lips with a ruddy lipstick. I could feel the blood pulsing within me. It thrummed my temples, and filled my cock. My trouser front showed what was happening beneath the taut material. Matter is always appearance, and has power to excite the whole body. Nature has put this pagan energy into my cock.

She Ankara travesti steps out of her short dress revealing her juicy body for my eyes to first stare at, what is on display before me. Leaning against the counter opposite me I am excited by what I see. Pert breasts, and a shaved, plump cunt. I hastily unzip my pants, and pull them down around my ankles displaying my excitedness straining inside my underpants. The way her green eyes light up I can tell she likes what she sees. I am standing opposite her in the kitchen, and free my cock from its entrapment. I do a turn so she can see everything I have on display. The weight of my cock pendulums from side to side. I lean back against the kitchen wall, and with trembling hand I grip my cock, pulling back its foreskin, which until now completely covered the head. I like this part, revealing the purple head to the world, and I watch her eyes swell, as she plays with her well spoken clitoris.

We are here, because we want to masturbate together. That she can see me masturbating, which is Çankaya travesti the most secret thing I do, thrills the fuck out of me. I am enacting the sensations that my cock allows. Likewise she too is slipping her long fingers inside her cunt with ooooos and aaaaaahs. We are the pronouncements of skin, and flesh tied to bone. I imaginatively see my cock entering her cunt in place of her finger. My hand has become her cunt. Her finger has become my prick sliding in and out. But all this is transference. Masturbation is for me a rite, a ritual. Kiss, sugar, sip.

My cock sticks out glad to be seen by her eyes, as too, her cunt rounded at the base of her body, deliverer of babies, swallower of men’s hoary cocks. So vulvic. My cock is very dark like the summer ripe color of a fat juicy Black Doris plum in my hand, its skin as smooth as the plumpness bursting the flesh held within. But what is bursting is the feeling of the cum travelling from my testes up the shaft, inch by inch, ejaculating a ways across the distance between the woman masturbating opposite me, hitting the floor, and oozing over my hand, that is still trying to divine the opium sugar that has weakened my legs, and thrums my temple.

My cock begins to feel like a breast sucked dry, and my hand is the infant’s mouth crying for more, wringing out every last drop. I see her looking at my discharge, but unable to touch it. She is in the pleasure vice of her own pleasuring. My cum on the floor looks like freshly minted moon drops. She keeps on masturbating her cunt, and arches her spine in the throes of ecstasy.

We both stand there in our post erotic bodies. Our sexual energy is done for a while. We empty what is inside, out, then refill, only to empty it out. Sex arrives, conquers our body, then leaves. This is when most people turn their sexual encounter into love, to justify the naturality of sex. I am objectified into her, and she is now objectified to me. I dreamt this masturbation long before I enacted it. I dreamt desire into my cock, and even though she probably does not know it, she dreamt a masturbatory desire into her soft cunt, long before she masturbated it.

Yes, their is a philosophy, even in sex. My cock is drooping down and is dripping its final residue. I pull up my Kelvin Kliens, and zip up my pants, and leave the room with a sticky cock behind the material.