the-romantic-dominant:

Physiology

I am a man of science. At my best, I look at everything as if seen through the prism of the Scientific Method. And I cannot help but find the erotic underpinnings of the physical conversion fascinating in our sexual selves.

The idea – that a person can be so mentally “turned on” – that it sparks a physical representation – is absolutely sexy beyond words. The series of GIFs above depicts that well, I think.

Wet. When she is so sexually turned on, as I assume some of you are now, that a moistness settles in her beauty zone. When she is beyond turned on, I see this wetness dripping, running down my balls as I fuck the life out of her. With my hard dick.

Hard. Wet’s counterpart, in us men. When a woman just speaks the words, or exhibits her naked beauty in front of me, I try to contain my hardness, but all too often I am weak for her stunning sexuality. And go from soft and flaccid to hard and erect, all from the mental picture of her in my head.

Convulsions. The pinnacle of her internal earthquake. The orgasms for her that elude so many men. Her legs, hips, arms, and back all bucking uncontrollably as if somebody else was controlling her motor functions. And internal spasm setting fire to other parts of her body.

Squirting. The liquid form of a skilled man’s delivery of her convulsions. She has no choice, when done right, to just spray the bed in front of her as my hand cups the inside of her at a furious force.

Cumming. My seed, rushing from my soul like it has a mind of it’s own. It decides when. It decides where. My mind has no control and my body just allows my pinnacle to form.

There is just something erotic in the physical display of the uncontrollable, driven purely from being so turned on you have no choice in the matter, and you are brought to your most basic, primal being.

Damn that’s fucking hot.