You really show know what is expected of you.
It seems reasonable to me, after all, to lay it all out there because there will come a day when I am driving down the street, and I pull the car over for no apparent reason, and you do a double-take wondering if we have a flat or ran out of gas or something.
I will know the truth though.
I will have warned you, as I am right now.
I will look over at you.
I will remind you of this post.
Then I will grin. You know, that devilish grin that has your panties getting moist at this very moment. Yeah, that same grin.
I’ll grab you by your neck, kiss you, and reach down between your legs and grip you, to let you know that I am going to be taking what is mine, right then.
Do I care who sees?
Of course, I do. I hope somebody sees. I hope a housewife with an ESPN-addicted husband drives by. I hope that ESPN-addicted husband drives by too.
I am so proud of you – I really don’t give a fuck who sees, all that I want somebody to drive by fast enough to wonder to themselves, “did I just see what I thought I saw?”.
“She sure looked like she was enjoying herself.”
Orgasming over and over, let’s hope one of them is spotted by somebody.
I can’t help it.
I’m proud of you.