We reached that part in our "relationship" where I had eventually won his trust.
He "revealed " himself to me.
I knew he was the naughty sort that loved his women and, he did not deny it. He said wherever he travelled he could not help but, sample the best those cities had to offer.
A well travelled man and, i would imagine, a well liked man. He was just that sort.
There was a smoothness about him that did not rub one up the wrong way.
He said he loved that women found him attractive even though he could not see himself in that light.
I knew why those women found him attractive.
His mannerism was gentlemanly . Naughty eyes, a subtle lustiness constantly brewing in them, a smile that came easily and, a gait relaxed.

He was a man with a man bag. I always loved men who carry a man bag with confidence. It is the European way of things that has stayed with me since my youngling days.

He lay naked before me . I looked down at him. It was one of those lower sort of beds affording me the view of his stoutly sexy form.

I smiled. He lay there sprawled in all his naked glory as we continued our conversation about the many red herrings in the latest supposed "assassination" of Prigoin.

We both left our conversation unfinished because his,

" come here...." was an invitation to sample each other through touch unrushed, lips lingering and searching and moans and groans from multiple near creaming of my breasts I call edging.

What pleasure knows to abound when boundaries are understood and adventures new get mapped with every new visit by a...regular.

RB