G
My gallant guy is a guru among gentlemen, a Greek god of genuine groove, a gem of his gender, a good guesser, a general genius, AND he gives great grammar. I greet him with girlish giggles and grant him a glimpse of my garden getaway with gardenias, gladiolas, guitars, and gossamer gowns. Gradually, glances give way to gestures, and garments glide gracefully to green grass, as god and goddess get grounded in a graphic game of geography. I guide my grateful guest to grope my grapes. Gentle gyrations generate a gooey, gushy grind until guttural groans grow gleeful. With grappling gestures and gentle gymnastics, I grip his gigantic growing groin. Genitals glisten and glowing globes are gently grabbed. Gasping, I grasp his glorious geyser. In a gush of gusto, his gorgeous, golden gourd greedily gobbles gourmet goodies until going, going, gone! Grateful for the generous gift, I gladly glean gallons of gratitude. We gaze gratified and generally ga-ga through groggy gleaming grins. Good grief!, That was great!