My memory is getting really bad these days. I think it is, at least.
I just can’t seem to recall allowing you to touch your pussy, Miss Tumblr.
I remember telling you not to, at some point. I think I did at least.
But I can’t really remember.
You just can’t help yourself though, can you?
It feels so good when you finally get that alone time, that you so desperately need, to just lean back, scroll, get your fingers or favorite toy out, find that beautiful pussy, and make yourself cum hard. Just trembling and moaning even though nobody is there to hear you.
You just cannot contain those sounds, can you Miss Tumblr?
I like to think that you dive deep into the mind of a man who you know would gladly feed every sense you desperately need to be fulfilled.
Mr. Blog. His biographical description would include the details of a bald, tanned head with a salt and pepper beard, hazel eyes, a debilitating smirk, and passion like you never could hit you.
Anger and lust swirling around in him like it was poured into him in liquid form and is now coming to a boil. He is now just but a container for steaming, scalding hot raw passion, focused on your mind and body, little lady.
Couple that with intellect and a bold smart-ass bravado that you really really really would love to hate, but you just know that in-person, his quick wit, eyebrow lift, and a wink would set your panties on fire, and you just wouldn’t have much control over that, now would you? Miss Alpha Tumblr would melt like butter and you just fucking hate it.
You’d want to shut him out. But instead, you’d just succumb knowing that he is toying with you and at the end of the day he still wants nothing more than to bring you heaven on earth. To devour you and make you cum more times than you ever knew was possible.
So you say to yourself, “who is the real fool, Mr. Blog?”
I suppose it is all academic because you’d have no say in the matter anyway, once he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you in. One hand keeping you in place. The other, exploring each body part with purpose.
Your hair, run through his fingers as he kisses you, all feeling like Mr. Nice Guy Romantic, all the way up until the point when you get a nice hard yank to remind you that he came to play, in his way, and his way Miss Tumblr, is very very rough.
Shoving you up against the wall, lifting your leg up, and putting one hand over your jugular while the other slips up your sundress. Firm fingers and palm meeting your bare wet pussy that he has every intention to bring a thunderstorm to.
Fingers over your clit and when that first orgasm comes, unlike your fingers, his do not let up or slow down but increase with a purpose to make you cum and press right through it until he wins another and another and another.
After your clit rocks you too many times to count, his fingers press deep inside you and make you remember that feeling when your G spot sends shivers down your spine. Then all the way back to your cervix and it feels like he is stretching you to the brink, yet your wetness is an all-time high and you cannot handle it when you cum again for him.
You look down and see that motherfucker’s smirk, and you just don’t even give a fuck anymore, knowing that you have become his little puppet on a string, because “goddamn this feels so fucking good,” and he knows exactly what he is doing to you, and you just let him.
A hard thick cock shoved right up inside you and three soaking wet fingers are shoved inside your mouth and you taste your salty-sweet delicious lust.
You like this taste, don’t you, Miss Tumblr?
Deep and pounding away inside at you, left leg on his shoulder and his fingers working your clit again and you cum again, then again, and you just soar to heaven when you feel the sensation of his warm thick fluid bursting inside you.
Seeping out of you, you don’t even have the energy to do anything about it, so he cups his hand over your beating, swollen pussy and lets his seed empty into his hand, then drizzles it all over your mouth like syrup, spilling a little on purpose to see you deliberately spoon it back over your taste buds.
You dirty filthy little girl, Miss Tumblr. You love that taste of him, don’t you?
But, I never said you could touch though, did I?
Also published on Medium.