Tonight I'm thinking of tantalizing tactics to tempt my tall, ticklish troubadour. There is a telltale thickness thriving in his trousers that I want to touch. I talk in tender tones, telling him to trust. I tease his tremoring tissues with a topical tonic. I taste the texture of his tremendous tool. I trace his testicles 'til they tighten. I treasure his throbbing testosterone. He twitches, twists, then turns to thwart my thermal therapy. He tells me its time he taught me to take turns and threatens to tie me with tethers. I try to tug, but he tells the truth, therefore, he takes his turn, too. A theft transpires, now totally topless, he thirstily titillates my twin tomatoes, he tastes them thoughtfully teasing them with terrific technique, then traveling toward toastier territory, his talented tongue tenderly tweaks a tiny, touchy trigger, thighs tremble, toes tingle. Totally transparent, I twirl and thrash 'til thoroughly tousled. He tackles. We tumble. My tunnel tightens 'til the tip of his torrid torch thaws the tension with temperature and tempo. He thrusts his torpedo thoroughly through the target! He thrusts twice, thrice. Tangled together in a timeless trance, a thousand thrilling tidal waves take us to the top. A thundering tornado tears through the tulips, throwing us through the threshold! That was truly a treat. Thank you, Tarzan!