Dammit Kingtex, you sure know how to trigger that cucky angst.
I’ve been agonisingly prone to it for the last nine years since I first, lying naked beside my childless wife on our marital bed, tremblingly but tenderly wrapped her wedding-ringed left hand around the comfortingly warm shaft of my beautifully athletic 19-year-old black lover’s fiercely upcurved enviably long and girthy snakily-veined gristly erection after I’d drawn back its grossly stretched foreskin and eagerly guided his huge cockhead through the clasping rim of her promisingly self-lubricated welcoming vagina.
How brilliantly her 4-carat diamond engagement ring reflected my huge love for her back to me at that fearful moment. How warmly her gold wedding band gleamed as she lovingly stroked the now steely shaft of my love-buddy’s monstrous but beautifully smoothly-thrusting bared erection.
I was truly lovely and intensely erotic but at the same time, for me, unforgettably traumatic