Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.

Author: OC
Title: Why Women Love - Southern Gentlemen
Summary:A lady tells why sex is better when control of her orgasm is
totally in the hands of her lover.
   Why Women Love - Southern Gentlemen
   Having been raised in the south, our ideals seem a bit strange to some,
especially if your considered a southern gentleman.  Were raised with a
respect for God, our Country, and or fellow Americans.  Taught that our
womenfolk are to be cherished, cared fore, and protected.  Were to be
leaders in our homes, respect our elders, and provide for our family. 
Usually reserved, cross us and it's like stirring up a hornets nest, you
will get stung.  Your neighbors, like your brother, will watch your back,
there when you need a helping hand, yet still respectful of your property
and your privacy.  It's an interesting place to live, get into trouble when
your young and your parent's will know before you get home.  This is where
you learn to live, to love, and how things should be done.  Harm our wives,
our children, or our family, your days are numbered, you may just
disappear. This is our code, how we conduct ourselves, our business, our
lives, it's the way we are.
   Women in the south are strangely at ease, happy with themselves, their
lives, and their family.  There the glue that holds the family together. 
Smart, courageous, and greeting you with a smile whenever you get home. 
Yes, life in the south, if you've a little redneck in your blood, is a
satisfying life.  Early to bed, early to rise, it's a wonderful place to
be.
   Ever wonder why southern ladies are always smiling, greet you with a
cheerful voice, so exuberant?  Ever wonder what keeps everyone so happy? 
Well my friend, their lives, the way they live, the way things ought to be,
they live a life where the husband is in charge, the wife submissively
obeys, and the children know there place.  Please don't take me wrong, this
is not a smack you around, listen to me existence, no this is a cooperative
existence, they are a pare, a couple.  After a hard day's work, going to
bed early provides time to rekindle their love.  When a southern lady
prepares herself for bed, a bath or shower is usually in order.  instead of
that being a time to lock herself away, hiding from the world, this is a
time to be shared.  The man will usually help his wife in these matters,
undressing her, revealing her body, her womanly charms each evening. 
Carefully, tenderly washing her body, his hands learning her every curve,
exploring her hidden places, soaping her, cleansing her.  She's given
herself to him, completely and in every manor possible, and nightly he
cares for that gift.  Washing her hair, her neck, her back, she feels at
ease with him, comforted by his presence.  Knowing she's his, pleases him,
belongs to him, is fully known by this man, each and every part of her
body, this puts her at ease.  Responding to his touch, his caress, his
gentle explorations, she begins to get excited.  Her breathing changes,
nipples begin to erect, moisture, she begins getting wet, her feminine
nectar begins to form.  As they continue, her body further responds, her
need, building, her desire continues to grow.  As he continues, as he plays
her body, stroking her to create a symphony, she feels the need, her need,
growing, rising toward crescendo.
   Stopping just short of her moment of completion, just before she looses
control, her knees shaky, she's ready to burst.  She now washes her man,
reviewing his stance, cleansing his body, lastly soaping his manhood,
knowing just what he likes.  Stopping her, embracing his wife, holding her
close, kissing her, deeply exploring her mouth, together the passion
continues to build, kneeling she takes him into her mouth, feeling him
expanding, getting harder, continuing until he signals to stop, not yet
ready to loose his load.  Thus begins their nightly ritual, exiting the
shower he drys himself, then his wife, using this time to further excite
her body, to tantalize her.  Leading her, together they retire to their
room, a room of love, of joy, of many pleasures.  Inside these walls,
removed from the world, they continue their dance of love of desire.
   One thing I may need to point out, one curious oddity realized by
redneck gentlemen, to keep a woman's interest, to keep her desire, for her
to crave sexual pleasures on a daily basis there needs to be denial. 
Keeping in mind, she's never to pleasure herself, not allowed masturbation,
her only satisfaction is to be from her husband, what he gives her, how he
handles her body.  To peak her interest, have her more than willing, even
anxious for their coupling, he must be fully and completely in control of
her pleasure.  If she experience completion of pleasure, that is if she has
an orgasm too often, then it may not be something she'll crave each night.
If however, she never knows when that grand finally of pleasure will occur,
or at the very least when here next chance may be, she becomes hungry for
it, hungry for more.  As long as she's stimulated, turned on, pushed past
where she could explode, past forcing herself to hold back, to where she's
about to loose control, when a single thrust, even her clench would tumble
her into full blown orgasm, she'll remain interested.  Once your lady is in
this state, is beyond desire, fully in need, that's when the fun begins. 
Although there are times you may want to just bend her over and take your
pleasure, those times need to be few compared to the caring, carefully
orchestrated build ups peaking her desire.
   Tonight, as he begins, she' s laid back, he's beside her, kissing her
head, her eyes, his fingers running through her hair, caring for his
darling, his beloved.  Cupping her breasts, massaging them, avoiding her
nipples, carefully building her need, her desire dripping from within.  His
kisses, reaching her neck, arching, she's arching for more, her legs,
opening, as if drawn apart, she's making herself, her body, available to
him.  Craving his touch, aching for more, her hands, searching, guiding his
head, down her body, over her stomach, he's kissing her pubis.  The aroma,
a woman in heat, in need, dripping desire, such sweet perfume, heady,
delicious, the wanton flavor he craves.  Her labia, swollen with desire,
dripping with dew, her womanly honey, flowing, coating her bits.  Clitoris,
swollen, searching, she craves his touch, aching for his lips, his tongue.
Tracing, slowly tracing her mound, her forest, enticing, her growth,
trimmed, neat, he mows her lawn, trims her neatly, loves this site, this
valley of desire.  Such beauty, her flower, rich, her petals thick,
engorged, so swollen, open.  Directing his path, leading him, her clit,
stretching forth, begging to be touched, searching for something, anything,
just beginning to ache.
   For her, her last explosion of pleasure, the last time she's tasted
completion, felt her own orgasm, it's been weeks.  Weeks of teasing, of
edging, of feeling him piercing her depths, unloading his passion, surging
within.  In her current state, her on edge being denied state, she welcomes
his advances, being bent over the counter, taken from behind, even that is
pleasing.  Denial keeps her wet, swollen, wanton, her body always ready to
accept his entry, even without foreplay, without any preliminaries, his
quick use of her still feels good, scratches that internal itch.  Although
she longs for her release, knowing she's giving him such pleasure makes her
feel proud, useful, she's satisfying his needs, she loves making him cum.
Desire, she desires, cries for the same, to feel release, however she made
a commitment, good to her word, her promise, when she vowed to honor and
obey, to release only when told, only when he's commanded her to.  Allowed
to beg, she's never to get angry, only allowed to plead, to cry for this
pleasure, knowing, this is required, this must never be changed.  More and
more she's come to realizes the importance of being denied, of be required
to give up this massive release of pleasure to continue their relationship,
their love.  This necessity of denial, of requiring her to suffer,
refraining from her exquisite pleasure, this is the very thing that keeps
her going.  She knows in time, when he's ready, she will cum, she will
obtain her orgasm.  Knows he loves her enough to make her ache, building
her need, a damn ready to burst.  When the time is right, when she hears
those magic words, the force, the flood, she'll be literally racked with
pleasure, shuttering through her entire being, even blacking out with pure
ecstasy.
   His mouth, his lips, nose, tongue, there causing her enormously
wonderful feelings, twisting, she's gripping his hair, toes curled, back
arched.  This feels so good it's painful, holding off her orgasm, holding
back her need, it almost hurts.  The pleasure however, what he's doing, to
her, her body, her mind, eating her flower, her scent, coating, covering
him, she never wants to stop, cannot stand to continue, pleading for more.
He loves this state, loves taking her to this place, this mind altering
existence, between blissful release, and continued torture, a pleasure so
intense, so grand, it makes her cry.  Together, they continue, pushing her,
edging her, hanging her over that cliff, dangling, until he's pushed away.
Then it's time, time to fill her empty space, his key, unlocking her
depths, touching inside, probing her depth's.  Slowly, teasingly he inserts
himself, her body drawing him in, begging him to take her, he holds back,
remaining slow, deliberate, drawing this out.  Maintaining herself, holding
off when she's this turned on, it makes her ache, her body, swollen, wants
to cum, needs to cum, but no, this must not be, she'll fight it, regain
control.  Head back, mouth open, her music is flowing, his organ, playing
her, together their symphony in love continues.  Changing his tempo, his
rhythm, he continues, altering the beat, the ever changing tunes continue.
Timing, he's timed this well, her very existence, her every fiber, tense,
straining, stretched to the fullest, penetrating her deeply, kissing her,
she hears his words.  My love, my beautiful wife, cum with me, and she
begins.  He's just ready to burst, his cum, surging into his shaft, and
with those wonderfully welcomed words her body begins, shuttering, pulling
him tight, deep, her pussy, vibrating, milking him, convulsing.  She's
racked with such enormous waves of pleasure, her screams are silent, mouth
open, eyes wide, her breathing so shallow, a site to behold.  Finally,
after being racked with overwhelming pleasure, feeling him exploding into
her depths, after loosing all control, she falls limp, blacking out.
   Morning breaks, as the sun begins peaking through their window, as a new
day dawns, she stirs, wrapped in arms so strong, she feels at peace, safe
from the world.  Smiling, remembering the experience, she begins her day,
kissing her lover, knowing she's cherished, knowing this man beside her,
her husband, lover and very best friend is indeed her very own southern
gentlemen.
   If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.  Comments help with
developing new content as well as sharing our thoughts with others.  I'd
love to hear from you, what you think so far, again any ladies reading,
please drop me a line, I do want to know the female point of view. 
ocontrolfd@yahoo.com
   
  
Why Women Love - Southern Redneck Gentlemen