Scrumdidilyumptious DILFs

[Claire]

I love men, especially well toned DILFs.

He doesn't have to be a knight. A scrumdidilyumptious esquire DILF will do.

I am no Dolly Parton.

However, I ain't flat like Paris Hilton or Cameron Diaz.

I am a C Cup, well equipped with a sweet but confident disposition, and most importantly, a fabulous brain.

In any board room or multi client legal meetings, I float across the room. I am well aware that my hips swayed like a runway model, while walking to take my seat. I may be a few years to forty, but I know the way my Ferragamo dress melts into my manicured gym and yoga curves caused even the other women in the room to bristle. I can definitely feel the demon inside them stiffening up, with their fingers scrapping the bottom of their wretched souls, green-eyed, disturbed and in mental agony.

Alas, I pen this piece not about myself. It's about scrumdidilyumptious DILFs whom I have slept with, and those I crave to sleep with.

Am I a slut? Well so be it.

At least I know I ain't a cheap one.

I am a schmick, unlike a headless chicken, running all over the place in this forum, anathematising in every other thread, worrying about her putrescent virginity.

I love scrumdidilyumptious DILFs. I love their well built curves that are visible through their strained fabric at their forearms, biceps and chest. When they don their slim fit pants or skiny jeans, I admire those bulky calves and their protuberance of passion.

When a DILF is sprawled, naked on the bed, I love his innocence, his vulnerability and his silent face plea, begging me to mount on him, with both the base of my palms resting just beneath awesome chest, tweaking his nipples as I ride on him.

I love seeing the scrumdidilyumptious DILF holding out for as long as he could.

Seeing and sensing him on the edge of one, and pulling himself back in order to go for the longer haul, often makes me imagine the scrumdidilyumptious DILF as the chivalrous pastor or priest, treating me like a fair and lovely porcelain doll, needing his protection, guidance and comfort.

When the scrumdidilyumptious DILF finally "arrives", it's like watching his beautiful death.

I love that few brief seconds when the scrumdidilyumptious DILF transcends away from his performance of a pure, cum physical copulating act, when he whispers "I love you baby" into my ear.

I love his helplessness, shaking thighs, heavy breathing, chest rising, mental vacancy and most importantly, his complete detachment from his current spouse in entirety and in reality.

As I pen this piece to distract me from a boring Monday of endless drafting of corporate legal agreements, sipping my afternoon coffee, savouring my phallic looking chocolate eclair that my client had kindly grab-delivered over to me, I reminded myself that scrumdidilyumptious DILFs are indeed intoxicating.

Nevertheless I yearn for a DILF to hold me from behind, resting his chin on my bare shoulder, feeling his scruff on my neck, with his calloused hands all over me.

Well, enough of daydreaming. Its past 4pm. Time to finish off the last of my drafting and call it a day, working from a empty and deserted office.

 

[wikiphile]

Hi claire

I hope i have brought u joy and happiness in your life?

 

[Untouchable]

 

[gingerlyn]

No Liam Keng ? Liam Tee Tee ?

 

[sweetiepie]

KNN this word scrumdidilyumptious and dilf are new words my uncle learn today KNN sounds like scum didi eating some sumptuous jibye chap and you like suck didi dick KNN

 

[blackmondy]

At this stage of my life, a porn video will speak volumes more than a saucy article. My reading days are truly over.

 

[blackmondy]

No Liam Keng ? Liam Tee Tee ?

I'm sure you can do better than sister Claire with fewer big words and more action.

 

[yinyang]

 

[plzhelpme]

View attachment 115562View attachment 115563View attachment 115564

I think the XXX version of
DILF is
Damn, I Love F**king?

 

[Claire]

Thank you to @zhihau @yinyang @nirvarq for your likes and positive reactions to my daydreaming post yesterday.

Writing my daydreaming in coherent words, merging them into a veritable piece, often clears my befuddled brain. It reboots my grey matter between my ears, for intellectual lucidity and rejuvenated passion to love and start afresh.

As for those haters, with the often unkind messages or porny detritus in my threads ∼ suffice to say, it may be helpful for these ignoramuses to know that vocal doubters and detractors of my writings, are often those who simply have no confidence, attitude or tenacity to be successful with elite women in their disconsolate lives.

Somehow, it rhymes with their need to visit prostitutes, with a fee payment, to achieve that artificial and certainly transitory male superiority. A loser? Without a doubt.

 

[syed putra]

Somebody! Help her! Please!

 

[ginfreely]

I love men, especially well toned DILFs.

He doesn't have to be a knight. A scrumdidilyumptious esquire DILF will do.

I am no Dolly Parton.

However, I ain't flat like Paris Hilton or Cameron Diaz.

I am a C Cup, well equipped with a sweet but confident disposition, and most importantly, a fabulous brain.

In any board room or multi client legal meetings, I float across the room. I am well aware that my hips swayed like a runway model, while walking to take my seat. I may be a few years to forty, but I know the way my Ferragamo dress melts into my manicured gym and yoga curves caused even the other women in the room to bristle. I can definitely feel the demon inside them stiffening up, with their fingers scrapping the bottom of their wretched souls, green-eyed, disturbed and in mental agony.

Alas, I pen this piece not about myself. It's about scrumdidilyumptious DILFs whom I have slept with, and those I crave to sleep with.

Am I a slut? Well so be it.

At least I know I ain't a cheap one.

I am a schmick, unlike a headless chicken, running all over the place in this forum, anathematising in every other thread, worrying about her putrescent virginity.

I love scrumdidilyumptious DILFs. I love their well built curves that are visible through their strained fabric at their forearms, biceps and chest. When they don their slim fit pants or skiny jeans, I admire those bulky calves and their protuberance of passion.

When a DILF is sprawled, naked on the bed, I love his innocence, his vulnerability and his silent face plea, begging me to mount on him, with both the base of my palms resting just beneath awesome chest, tweaking his nipples as I ride on him.

I love seeing the scrumdidilyumptious DILF holding out for as long as he could.

Seeing and sensing him on the edge of one, and pulling himself back in order to go for the longer haul, often makes me imagine the scrumdidilyumptious DILF as the chivalrous pastor or priest, treating me like a fair and lovely porcelain doll, needing his protection, guidance and comfort.

When the scrumdidilyumptious DILF finally "arrives", it's like watching his beautiful death.

I love that few brief seconds when the scrumdidilyumptious DILF transcends away from his performance of a pure, cum physical copulating act, when he whispers "I love you baby" into my ear.

I love his helplessness, shaking thighs, heavy breathing, chest rising, mental vacancy and most importantly, his complete detachment from his current spouse in entirety and in reality.

As I pen this piece to distract me from a boring Monday of endless drafting of corporate legal agreements, sipping my afternoon coffee, savouring my phallic looking chocolate eclair that my client had kindly grab-delivered over to me, I reminded myself that scrumdidilyumptious DILFs are indeed intoxicating.

Nevertheless I yearn for a DILF to hold me from behind, resting his chin on my bare shoulder, feeling his scruff on my neck, with his calloused hands all over me.

Well, enough of daydreaming. Its past 4pm. Time to finish off the last of my drafting and call it a day, working from a empty and deserted office.

You stupid fake woman are then a chicken and as former English literature A1 student i can tell you your writing is boring with stupid words that need to check dictionary and do not interest me at all.

 

[wikiphile]

Thank you to @zhihau @yinyang @nirvarq for your likes and positive reactions to my daydreaming post yesterday.

Writing my daydreaming in coherent words, merging them into a veritable piece, often clears my befuddled brain. It reboots my grey matter between my ears, for intellectual lucidity and rejuvenated passion to love and start afresh.

As for those haters, with the often unkind messages or porny detritus in my threads ∼ suffice to say, it may be helpful for these ignoramuses to know that vocal doubters and detractors of my writings, are often those who simply have no confidence, attitude or tenacity to be successful with elite women in their disconsolate lives.

Somehow, it rhymes with their need to visit prostitutes, with a fee payment, to achieve that artificial and certainly transitory male superiority. A loser? Without a doubt.

I love you too

 

[Claire]

I love you too

Thanks. At least you came to your senses, unlike the others.

 

[Claire]

You stupid fake woman are then a chicken and as former English literature A1 student i can tell you your writing is boring with stupid words that need to check dictionary and do not interest me at all.

You are certainly an ungrateful gargoyle.

Instead of appreciating my munificence, in describing you as a bona fide virgin, in my piece in post #1, you have resorted to diabolical castigation and gender assassination.

Well, I guess I shouldn't expect much from a banal gargoyle, an offshoot of plebeian stemma.

 

[knowwhatyouwantinlife]

Ha ha

 

[yinyang]

Thanks. At least you came to your senses, unlike the others.

Nein, don't be taken in by Wiki's. Masquerading as an alpha male
Err, more like getting into that fake sheath.

Ps: Intoxicated by your exuberance of your verbosity

 

[Cottonmouth]

You stupid fake woman are then a chicken and as former English literature A1 student i can tell you your writing is boring with stupid words that need to check dictionary and do not interest me at all.

You think you are the only slut in the village? Your cheebye needs to be slapped.

 

[LordElrond]

I love men, especially well toned DILFs.

He doesn't have to be a knight. A scrumdidilyumptious esquire DILF will do.

I am no Dolly Parton.

However, I ain't flat like Paris Hilton or Cameron Diaz.

I am a C Cup, well equipped with a sweet but confident disposition, and most importantly, a fabulous brain.

In any board room or multi client legal meetings, I float across the room. I am well aware that my hips swayed like a runway model, while walking to take my seat. I may be a few years to forty, but I know the way my Ferragamo dress melts into my manicured gym and yoga curves caused even the other women in the room to bristle. I can definitely feel the demon inside them stiffening up, with their fingers scrapping the bottom of their wretched souls, green-eyed, disturbed and in mental agony.

Alas, I pen this piece not about myself. It's about scrumdidilyumptious DILFs whom I have slept with, and those I crave to sleep with.

Am I a slut? Well so be it.

At least I know I ain't a cheap one.

I am a schmick, unlike a headless chicken, running all over the place in this forum, anathematising in every other thread, worrying about her putrescent virginity.

I love scrumdidilyumptious DILFs. I love their well built curves that are visible through their strained fabric at their forearms, biceps and chest. When they don their slim fit pants or skiny jeans, I admire those bulky calves and their protuberance of passion.

When a DILF is sprawled, naked on the bed, I love his innocence, his vulnerability and his silent face plea, begging me to mount on him, with both the base of my palms resting just beneath awesome chest, tweaking his nipples as I ride on him.

I love seeing the scrumdidilyumptious DILF holding out for as long as he could.

Seeing and sensing him on the edge of one, and pulling himself back in order to go for the longer haul, often makes me imagine the scrumdidilyumptious DILF as the chivalrous pastor or priest, treating me like a fair and lovely porcelain doll, needing his protection, guidance and comfort.

When the scrumdidilyumptious DILF finally "arrives", it's like watching his beautiful death.

I love that few brief seconds when the scrumdidilyumptious DILF transcends away from his performance of a pure, cum physical copulating act, when he whispers "I love you baby" into my ear.

I love his helplessness, shaking thighs, heavy breathing, chest rising, mental vacancy and most importantly, his complete detachment from his current spouse in entirety and in reality.

As I pen this piece to distract me from a boring Monday of endless drafting of corporate legal agreements, sipping my afternoon coffee, savouring my phallic looking chocolate eclair that my client had kindly grab-delivered over to me, I reminded myself that scrumdidilyumptious DILFs are indeed intoxicating.

Nevertheless I yearn for a DILF to hold me from behind, resting his chin on my bare shoulder, feeling his scruff on my neck, with his calloused hands all over me.

Well, enough of daydreaming. Its past 4pm. Time to finish off the last of my drafting and call it a day, working from a empty and deserted office.

Which school can i go to learn this swashbuckling English?

 

[glockman]

Which school can i go to learn this swashbuckling English?

I am actually so intimidated by her, I dare not post anything in her threads. Scared kena hantam-ed to oblivion.