I’ve lost the taste for sher­bet dip blow-jobs


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I CON­SIDER my­self a very lucky fella be­cause my girl­friend is an ex­tremely will­ing and lust­ful lady who loves noth­ing bet­ter than giv­ing me a long, lin­ger­ing blow-job.

I think it’s even bet­ter than shag­ging to see her blonde head go­ing up and down on my eight-incher as I writhe in ec­stasy.

It gives me an erotic sense of dom­i­nance over the en­tire fe­male sex – and the shat­ter­ing cli­maxes into her lovely mouth are ab­so­lutely bliss­ful.

But lately the plea­sure has been dulled slightly by her in­sis­tence on ex­per­i­ment­ing with dif­fer­ent flavours – and I’m not talk­ing about con­doms.

By way of va­ri­ety, she keeps ask­ing me to dip my wick in some­thing, and the stick­ier the bet­ter. Yo­ghurt, blanc­mange, melted choco­late, syrup, cake mix, peanut but­ter and jam – you name it and she’s had a go at it over these past few weeks.

But her favourite is un­doubt­edly sher­bet dip. She likes to pour all the sher­bet onto a plate and then roll my erect mem­ber in it un­til it has a thick coat­ing.

My babe loves slowly to lick it all off be­fore then giv­ing my cock a sec­ond coat­ing. Then she gives me a good, hard suck and I’m usu­ally ready to shoot my load be­fore she’s licked off the last grains.

But all the mess­ing about is start­ing to turn me off. And my girl­friend is putting on weight with all the ex­tra calo­ries she’s swal­low­ing. Is there any rem­edy you can sug­gest?

Robyn says,

Robyn says,

I’M a 35-year-old woman and I have just sold a suc­cess­ful com­puter busi­ness. But al­though I en­joyed build­ing the firm and trav­el­ling the world, I seem to miss out on fel­las.

I had the odd fling, of course, but now when I have bank ac­counts stuffed to over­flow­ing with cash, the one thing I don’t have is a man.

I’ve got along lately with a se­lec­tion of throb­bing dil­dos, but there’s noth­ing like the real thing.

I dis­cov­ered re­cently that one of my mar­ried friends has been hav­ing an af­fair with her per­sonal trainer who is a hunk.

He gives her in­cred­i­ble sex, so she says, and in re­turn she gives him lit­tle presents. I laughed at her ap­proach but later, while I was play­ing with my dil­dos, I thought, “Why don’t I get a man in?”

Then it struck me that I al­ready had one – my handy­man. I’d no­ticed that he was a strap­ping six-footer with blond curls and rip­pling mus­cles.

The next time he called I greeted him more warmly than usual in a fig­ure­hug­ging out­fit and later in­vited him in for cof­fee. I was quite bla­tant and told him that just look­ing at him made me horny.

He got the mes­sage and I led him to my bed­room. I lay back on the bed and waited to be sat­is­fied as his hands wan­dered over my body, ca­ress­ing ev­ery inch and prob­ing my wet pussy.

For the next two hours it was pure lust as we rolled to­gether, f***ing un­til we both ex­ploded in or­gasm.

The next time he came to visit I gave him a lit­tle present – a watch – and he more than re­paid me be­tween the sheets.

But now I won­der if I should try to find a man to set­tle down with.

Dear Robyn,

I WOULD love the wife to wear some thigh-length boots, just like the call girl I had last week.

But she says she’s too old at 57 and they would play havoc with her bunions. What should I do?

Robyn says,

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