An Admiring Dominant

Coming at You…Like A Fucking Tiger

Photo Credit: Pixabay

I absolutely adore women.

The just female form — her mind and body — just that alone astonishes me.

That statement that “I adore women” may seem obvious, given the nonstop stream of delicious boner material that finds its way from my dick to my heart to my head to my iPhone to piece I happen to be writing at the time, but let’s just explore that idea for a second.

I adore women.

I adore women, but in a way that I don’t think most straight men do. Sure, some do; I know I am not the only one. There has got to be a guy in each time zone like this, right?

But I’d say if it was a Scholastic Aptitude Test, I’d be in the 99th percentile in Feminine Marveling. My mom would irritate other parents with her “my son appreciates women more than your son” kind of shit. We’d definitely have a sticker on the car so she could brag.

So, let’s really cycle through this idea, because for God’s sake, women will read this so clearly I am pandering (and by the way, through explicitly stating that I am pandering out loud, I just negated that fact I was pandering, so, therefore, it now means that I am not. So feel free to love me still).

Oh fuck, did that parenthetical sentence just negate my honorable ass-kissing offset attempt? Shit. Surely the follow-up righted that ship, right? I could be here all day I am starting to realize. Now my head hurts.

Anyways, moving on.

Where were we? Oh yeah, I’m awesome, my penis is huge, I love listening to stories about your lame mom and sister, and anytime you need a foot massage I’m all hands on deck. (I think I am doing more harm than good at this point with these tangents; let’s stay on point, TRD). [Note to self: steer clear of parentheses; rely on brackets moving forward].

But, with my stupid sarcasm set aside, in all honesty, I deeply feel that the female gender is the better gender of the two, and I believe that wholeheartedly. My rationale? Raise a son and raise a daughter. When you raise a daughter, your biggest fear as a parent is not the world at large or physical protection or even the swimming pool in the backyard. No, it is the influence of the sons of other people, on your daughters.

Enough said — clear as day; boys are bad and girls are good.

Well, maybe not that simple, but women are just at their core less predatory and are more caring by nature. Even I, one of the “good ones” (supposedly), broke plenty of hearts and fucked for the sport of it when people’s feelings were in play when I was younger.

So now that we have the heart addressed, let’s take a looksie into the fun stuff. Her body. Yowzers. (Did I just say yowzers?) [God damn you, parentheses!]

In seriousness, the artwork that is the female body is just ridiculous. Breasts curving out, waist in, hips out, legs down. The hourglass silhouette alone is enough to wipe out any man or appreciative woman.

Then the garden between her legs. Holy shit! Buttons all over the place, from her clit and G spot, both readily accessible to any man who takes the time to learn a thing or two. Or maybe her A spot and O spot, for the astute man like myself, having learned the basics a long time ago. Orgasms from so many different places.

It’s like Disneyland for the passionate and perverted.

And what about that soft skin and her graceful face? Good Lord! Or maybe it is that smell of her lotions and perfume that cripple you when you get a whiff of her passing by you in the hallway. The long hair running down her back or the painted nails that feel so good against your skin.

Women just leave so much to be admired.

So when I have my opportunity, you can bet your sweet little ass sexy lady, I am fucking take it.

I grab that little woman by the hair and show her all my emotions bottled up into a fucking powder keg of anger-sex with a slap, hair pull, hard dick, and onslaught of orgasms directed right at her netherworld.

Dedicating all that is my manliness to exposing my raw testosterone so that I can make her fall apart and stand above her like I climbed Mount Everest.

Why anger?

Simple: because it’s the best way I honestly know how to express the absolute uncontrollable passion I have for this living, breathing piece of perfect.

Unhinged. Unconditionally uncontrolled.

Do you want to see the best part of this gender, cupcake?

Settle in.

Cause I’m coming at you like a fucking tiger.

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