Her red leather chair has no armrests and is the perfect design for Yab-yum.
Were I a few years younger, her willingness to straddle me would demand a risk assessment! Yet she readily accepts my invitation to sit together. Adopting Yab-yum so instantly seems natural.
Like a sapling embracing the earth, her muscular thighs take root around me. And direct my lustful energy through her base chakra. My wandering hand assists its passage up her glorious backside, straight spine, slender neck, and caramel blonde mop.
The mirror opposite aligns perfectly with her spine and bum. As I balance her cheeks in my hands, she instinctively lifts her hips, relaxes her pelvic muscles, yoni, and anus, and delights me with an intoxicating view of her luscious posterior.
She flashes her pretty, rose-pink bud at me. And giggles, a signal that she knows full well that my eyes are glued on her winking sphincter.
Our sacred parts are in such intimate contact. Not quite, but almost union.
I confide my excitement just thinking about her Yab-yum chair.
“And I love the fact that you love chairs,” she replies with a smile…
