I recall a listing Stephanie posted this time last year:
Easter is coming up. What is it that rabbits do?
As I struggle to complete my dissertation proposal and deal with the business of Holy Week, I needed a respite. Or to put it another way, I wasn’t feeling particularly holy at the time.
Betty has relocated to a new town and gone on hiatus. That left Sara available on short notice. I called Joyce and arranged a lunchtime getaway.
Arriving at her incall loft in the city, Sara greeted me in a red teddy and high heels. We exchanged pleasantries, she offered me a glass of water, then it was off to the races. After a brief makeout session, she positioned herself on her knees and took my cock into her mouth. I looked down and savored the view of her pleasuring me. Then I gripped her head. Sara permits CIM, and I was going to take advantage of her liberality. I prolonged the pleasure as long as I could, but Sara is too talented at her craft. I felt my balls tighten, my body shook, and a hot and creamy load burst into her mouth.
She went to the sink to spit and rinse her mouth. The radio softly played in the background. It didn’t take long for me to get hard again. Sara aims to please, and soon this bouncy bunny was on top of me. She ended up on her hands and knees.
What is it that rabbits do?
The sound of my hips slapping against her ass echoed in my ears. Gripping her hips firmly, I pounded away. When I first became sexually active, I assumed that, having sated my sexual curiosity, I could return to a life of purity. I should have heeded Kerouac’s warning: “Woe unto those who don’t believe in the unbelievable sweetness of sex.”
I erupted inside of her in several bursts.
After I had cleaned up and dressed, a familiar post-coital sadness settled upon me. Sara and I amiably parted ways, and I emerged from her loft into the spring sunshine.
Lutheran Guilt 