One. Slap. Two. Slap. Three. Choke.
That’s the pace I am after tonight Kitten. Driving my bad day right up your HooHa with manic anger so frightening it will wake you up at night.
Wet, of course.
But still, I need this release. I need to slap your pretty little face and squeeze that neck. Pull your fucking hair and drive my body into you until we play the game of “who will collapse first.”
You will, by the way. You always will. If you don’t, I will have failed. And I don’t fail.