I've probably mentioned this on here previously, that I have always thought of a woman's crying as a specific vintage of fine wine, or like a warming glass of my favorite brandy, to be savored tenderly and carefully, being certain to allow every nuance of flavor to permeate my palate and imprint itself on my memory. 

I can recall at an instant exactly how every woman cried who has ever shared her tears with me. I can tell you exactly what they sounded like, what their facial expressions were like, how teary they were, how hard they sobbed, what tended to trigger their crying, what worked well to comfort them, the different types of cries that they each had from and what situations would draw them from within their banks of emotions. I can recognize patterns and tendencies, I find myself sometimes grouping specific types of criers by some specific or arbitrary criterion, I can someone even guess and extrapolate the way a woman will cry before I've seen it happen. 

How many of you out there are connoisseurs like this? Do you drink deep of your lover's tears? Do you bathe your heart in the bittersweet liquor of their emotions? What nuances of flavor do you notice and love noticing? Are there any very interesting or unique types of crying that you've been fortunate to witness? I'd love to hear other's thoughts on this. 

 

truffle wrote:

If someone like Bethany were to come along in my life, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. Oh the possibilities!

Once, on a cross country trip, I wound up hooking up with a girl in Los Angeles who involuntarily cried whenever she had an orgasm. Maybe I'll have to tell that story some time. 

Beyond that, you might be surprised how many things people are willing to try for partners, and how many wind up liking it.
 

I guess one advantage in my life is my increasing ability to surround myself with people who are on a similar wavelength with me, in one way or another.

One thing to point out. Alicia is my platonic co-worker friend who I've comforted at times. This is a new girl I've met. We'll call her Bethany. Again, not her actual name but related.

Bethany is an internet cam girl who I wound up chatting with. We discovered we lived near each other and one thing led to another. I guess sometimes those "hot local gals want to meet you!" ads turn out to be true.

I hope this doesn't sound like a fish story. I know it all probably seems like way too many happy coincidences to be true, but on my honor, that's exactly how it happened. I wouldn't kid you about something like this.

Let me preface by saying that I know this board is geared more toward non-sexual dacryphilia, so I hope this post doesn't go beyond anyone's comfort zone.

This concerns an experience I have recently had with a woman  whom I've become close to, a friend with benefits basically. It's not my co-worker "Alicia" from my last post, for curious. Anyway, we had discussed in quite a lot of detail the things that turn us on, and she said she really wanted to try something that I was interested in.

I wound up telling her all about my fetish for women crying. I told her how I love the sound of it, how I love the anguished facial expressions, the tears on her cheeks falling onto my shoulders, the feeling of her chest and belly heaving against me, or the way you can feel a woman crying during sex, feeling the muscular tightness and contractions whichever way you go in.

That last part seemed to really catch her interest. In any case, a discussion between the two of us at some later point resulted in her deciding that she needed a good cry in my arms. I invited her to lay down and snuggle with me in bed. She lay her face on my shoulder and cried in fits of hard but stifled silent sobs, as I nuzzled the side of her face. Eventually she looked at me and said "I want to have sex with you while I'm crying."

It was all the cue we needed and within a minute we were all involved. Each orgasm seemed to make her cry harder until she was borderline hysterical and wrapped fully around me with her arms and legs around me and her wet face against my left shoulder. She tried to speak at a few points, but couldn't get more than a word or two out.

I recall the way her sobs felt as if they traveled in rippling waves. Each sob would begin at the top of her belly just below her ribs and flow downward in a smooth, liquid motion, setting her belly undulating against me like a belly dancer's, and then the force of it would roll downward through her mound into her genital region, and tighten and pu

Kleo wrote:

 I am same as you, only I am interested in man crying. But, I get what you mean.

What do you suppose it is about it that appeals so much?