She was standing in back of me, reaching around with both hands. Her left hand cupped my testicles while her right gently, but firmly, gripped my hard cock and slowly stroked. She worked her hand up and down, mimicing my own movements, as if her hand was mine. Or my cock was hers. I felt her breath on my skin, and her bare chest on my lower back. Her nipples were hard against me. Everything felt right. When she traced her left hand across my pubic region, up and across my stomach, and up to my chest...I started to get really warm. As her right hand worked faster on my now fully swollen and throbbing cock, she grasped my right nipple in a handful of flesh, squeezing it tight in her fist, leaving fingernail marks. She felt the telltale spasm of my cock and moved her hand to the top, squeezing the shaft in her fist, with just the head protruding, and moved it ever so slightly to stimulate that little area under the head, making me squirt up and out in a long thick jet of cum.

The clawmarks on my chest may fade, but the encounter won't.

__________________
Though I am different from you,
We were born involved in one another.

For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.

Complete surrender should not just come at moments in which one faces overwhelming odds, but in the calm when it seems one is personally in complete control of one's life.