Roscoe Talks About Human Females

Mostly, when I masturbate I think about their beautiful faces, and how delicious the girl's fannies are. Soft or firm, those lovely curves which can only be feminine. I think about how their fannies feel in my hands as I squeeze and caress. I move my hands over and around their inner thighs, and up across the smooth landscape of their asses. I often pause, in awe and admiration of their moist vaginal lips. I dip my fingers inside those lips. Four pairs of vaginal lips. Each pair as unique as a fingerprint.

Each one of my lovers excites my joy in different ways. Gina is especially skillful sucking my cock. Both Amber and Rosalee also suck my cock in marvelous ways, but when I think of them, I think about their vaginae. I think about licking each specific vagina, and the personally identifiable taste and scent of each vagina. I love their vaginas. I lick and lick and lick, both their vaginas, as often as I can. I suck their pubic folds, and dart my tongue inside. Sometimes I finger fuck my females as I lick them. Each month, I spend at least two hours thinking about the vagina of Amber and the vagina of Rosalee. I masturbate for ten to fifteen minutes, thinking about the taste, scent and texture of their vaginae. And I think about how their lips and tongue feel, tight around my full cock.

When the girls are away, when I am alone in my bed, I hold my cock fully erect in my right hand. I squeeze and caress gently, to keep myself on the cusp of orgasm. Just one large stroke away from gushing semen. I hold myself in this state of suspended bliss, sometimes for ten to twelve minutes, as I think about my girls. I think about everything I have mentioned. And I think about kissing their mouths, and sucking their erect nipples. Each woman has personally identifible ways of responding with the mouths and nipples. Rosalee enjoys luxurious long make-out sessions, with open mouth kisses, tongues flashing and swirling. Gina prefers lips on lips, a constant suction, as she strokes my cock, as I squeeze her breasts and fanny. Eva prefers quick, intense kisses. She avoids long kisses, mostly because she does not enjoy beards. My beard chafes and irritates her sensitive skin. Beth prefers medium length kisses, lips on lips, tender and firm. She enjoys having my fingers inside her excited vagina as she kisses me.

When I am ready to come. When I am ready to gush a full load of cream. I love to look into the eyes of my lovers, look directly into their beautiful eyes as I orgasm. Boom! Boom! My cream bursts out, splashing their bellies, or breasts, or faces. They smile up at me. And I know they have no problem, no hesitations about having joyful sex with an elderly gentleman. There, elderly gentleman. The older man who loves them and desires them. I love them and desire them, over and over, month to month, year to years. I have shot cream for Gina for over ten years. For Amber and Rosalee at least three years. And one mind-bending, consciousness raising, delicious year of exquisite orgasms, shooting semen for Beth.

The reason sex is completely, and wonderfully satisfying for me, when I am with these four women is obvious. There is always love in the room. I love them and they know it. Their feelings for me are not measurable in any precise way, but warmth, friendship, tenderness, humor, joy, and honest appreciation are always present. I would not have them in my life, if these qualities were not present. Other females have come and gone. Because they lacked nearly all these qualities. And were completely inconsistent in their forms of friendship. And some were simply, bat shit crazy. Bat shit crazy is never worth the trouble. Even when the girl is the hottest looking, most delicious fuck West of the Rockies. It is not worth the trouble. Take that as a solid piece of advice from a mature man.

My four females are my friends. I enjoy talking with them. Shopping with them. Taking them out for food. Sipping coffee or tea with them. Riding in cars with them.

The sex would not be worthwhile, and would have no spiritual value at all, if the women were not my friends. Love matters.

Anuses also matter. I have not even mentioned each woman's lovely, inviting puckered and sweet little anus. These are also as unique as fingerprints. I examine each one. I see artistic patterns, like dark puckered lips, closed in a tight kiss. I fully understand why some boys get their cocks hard and pump girls in the ass, and prefer that form of intercourse over any other form of physical connection. My lust for sweet, puckered anuses is strictly professional, strictly artistic. Also, I am not a star quarterback. And I will never be a star quarterback. Other men, younger men with larger and thicker cocks, are far better equipped to pump girls in the ass than I am. Those men can make my girls come and come. Those men have skills and equipment far beyond my limited ability. I hold no illusions about my age, nor my limited talents for skillful and satisfying anal intercourse. I am glad the girls have other men who can provide them this pleasure. I know Amber and Rosalee truly enjoy taking it in the ass.

As a younger man. I pumped asses as well as anyone. But that was long ago. Decades ago. Before these girls were born. This leads me to the quaint idea of monogamy. That magical unicorn lifestyle which some people seem to enjoy, which has always confused me. And seemed like an irrational fantasy to me. I am honestly glad, and grateful other men, younger men are available to pump my girls in the ass. My girls like that. And I want them to get what they enjoy. If I insisted on monogamy, my girls would not get pumped in the ass, and that would be a loss to the entire human experience. Girls who want to get pumped in the ass, should get pumped in the ass. I believe people should get what they want. When I was twelve years old, monogamy seemed like a wonderful, romantic idea. Two lovers strolling off into the sunset, fucking each other, over and over again, for years, and never getting bored, and growing old together, and still fucking now and then. By twenty years old, I realized that version of reality was essentially irrational, and not possible for me, and probably not possible for millions of other people. By thirty years old, I knew for a fact, I needed more love, and more sexual variety than any one woman could ever provide. Unless she was OK with a multiple-partner relationship, having nothing to do with monogamy.

Monogamy still seems like a quaint, romantic and attractive idea. Perhaps it works for some people. Because I have sex with four separate, beautiful, willing and joyful women every month, and because I really, really enjoy having sex with separate, beautiful, willing and joyful women every month, I will probably never understand the thrill and joy of monogamy. If there is a thrill and joy in monogamy. I understand how monogamy would be acceptable, if I lived in a remote region of the Andes Mountains, or in a log cabin, deep in the forests northeast from Vladivostok, Russia. Then monogamy would be a practical matter. Monogamy, or nothing at all. In other geographical locations, I would prefer more than one option. Unless, of course, we are talking about sheep. I could perhaps develop a long term, satisfying monogamous sexual relationship with a docile and willing sheep. Perhaps this is an effect of my Scottish heritage. Kilts raised high in the highlands. Pumpity pumpity. Animal husbandry on a personal level. Pumpity pumpity. Nervous sheep in the highlands, wondering exactly what is going on. Wolves they understand. Men in kilts, pumping them from behind is simply to confusing for any sensible sheep. Come hither my bonny lass. Let us gather some wool.

Do not misunderstand. I truly prefer sex with human females. I simply relate the tender affections some rural men feel, after pumping a friendly, furry female now and then, when their wives or girlfriends are in a bad mood.