The way I serve

[th****]

"The Way I Serve"


I greet her not with words,
but with eyes that ***r through skin,
past pretense, past time—
into the unseen.
There is a knowing forged in battle,
old wounds made wise.
***, so close to pleasure,
is my teacher—
but tonight,
passion and pleasure are the lesson I teach.
The air is warm,
the sheets silk,
the music a hush of rhyme and rhythm,
a backdrop to the dance about to begin.
My hands—strong, certain—
never leave her skin.
They strip her slowly,
tenderly,
mapping each curve with reverence
as if uncovering a sacred scroll.
A blindfold soft as breath
dims her sight,
but opens her mind
to feel, not see.
I press her down,
lay a towel over back and hips,
and begin the quiet invasion.
Fingers like scouts move
from ankles to thighs,
finding stress where she thought there was none,
breaking through old wars
etched into flesh.
Knees, calves,
arches and heels—
each touch a message,
each stroke a truth:
You are safe.
You are desired.
You are mine,
for now.
I ride the edge,
*** dancing with pleasure
like flame and smoke.
My thumbs work her knots,
coaxing surrender.
She breathes deeper.
Quivers.
Relents.
I knead her buttocks,
deep and deliberate—
never invading,
but haunting the gates,
hinting at heat,
a whisper of pink warmth
guarded yet open.
Still, my touch never leaves her.
Never breaks the spell.
Her spine sighs beneath me.
Her shoulders part like curtains.
Ribs, arms, fingers—
all offered, all answered.
Her head bows under my palm.
I hold her there,
pressing devotion into scalp and soul.
Then gently, I turn her.
A practiced hand,
a fluid movement—
and she is revealed again.
I trace in reverse,
rewinding the journey.
I tease.
I nudge.
I glide along swells and softness,
a worshipper at the altar
of her flesh.
I bump her nipples
like breath upon embers.
I skirt the mound of pleasure,
never crude—
just the echo of a touch
that promises thunder
but gives only lightning for now.
I end where I began—
feet, soft and open.
She is still,
relaxed,
adrift.
Then I lift her.
Grip her thighs,
pull her to the edge
like a wave claiming shore.
I am stone.
Bedrock.
Hard with restraint,
hot with purpose.
And when I enter,
she receives not just flesh,
but all of me—
every silent vow,
every hidden ache.
She sighs.
I groan.
She surrenders.
I serve.
And when her world breaks open
in the quiet *** of climax,
I smile,
spent not in lust,
but in giving.
For I am a man made of scars and song,
and this is how I love—
through hands,
through heat,
through holy servitude.

[Ch****]

And does he know that you feel this way?

[pu****]

Nice

[th****]

7 hours ago, Chilled321 said:

And does he know that you feel this way?

A guy wrote this about his own fantasy. Then you try make it gay. Not chill bruh

[Ch****]

4 hours ago, theTank8181 said:

 

A guy wrote this about his own fantasy. Then you try make it gay. Not chill bruh

Woah, I wrote this comment on another post .... i've never even seen this one!

[th****]

7 hours ago, Chilled321 said:

Woah, I wrote this comment on another post .... i've never even seen this one!

Accidents happen mate no worries

[Want2bbred24]

Wow that’s hot.. ur adorable.. I would love to get to know u better if u would like to chat or more h mu

[No****]

2 hours ago, Want2bbred24 said:

Wow that’s hot.. ur adorable.. I would love to get to know u better if u would like to chat or more h mu

Hey, I have a proposition you may be interested in but I can’t DM you. So if you’d like, you should shoot me a DM if not, it’s totally cool no worries