Woe is me

I am obsessed with pussy. When my wife had a libido and wanted me to lick her, I would first gaze at her moist pussy lips and then kiss them gently — like a sweet kiss on the mouth. Then I would kiss them more firmly, and swirl a little to get my lips glazed with her delicious juiciness. Finally, a passion-inflamed French kiss before lapping at her clit furiously, slowing every so often to wipe her whole pussy with my happy, hungry tongue. I would lick her for as long as it took for her cunt to get puffy and her abdomen to clench into a sustained isometric contraction and her thighs to tighten against my face. She would move into me and roll her hips and at last she would gasp and come, her pussy pulsing, all out of control. I would plunge my tongue into her as deeply as I could, surrounding it with her orgasmic convulsing. Then, and only then, my cock drooling and harder than hard, I would stuff my eager dick into her overflowing wetness and ram and ram until I was drained. Those, as they say, were the days, my friend. We thought they'd never end. But they did. Now I walk around craving the crotch of every fair maid that I see. Just let me lick it — that's all that I want, no strings attached. I will leave you swollen and quivering and gasping for air. I will tighten your abs and tone your thigh muscles and glutes. I guarantee. If only I could find someone who just wants to be licked. Not fucking likely, and woe is me.