It’s been awhile, Miss.
Been awhile since I had a moment to sit down and write some sinful inner monologue spoken from the libido that seems to never let up. That libido, which is always constantly thinking of all your parts and all the dirty and filthy things I’d like to do to them.
Right now, I am thinking of your flavor.
Your taste. Your scent. Your deliciousness.
She tastes good, doesn’t she? Go ahead and test that theory for me. Answer that question. You know you like your own taste, don’t you?
I know I like it.
Myself, face down in your underground.
Goddamn, I just want to swipe my tongue across you, stare right up into those eyes, savor your sweet tang and make you fuckin’ hate me for being so damn good playing your body like an instrument.
It is that moment I am after.
That moment, when you begin to peak and I know I own you right now. You start to hit a wall inside yourself and I tell myself “never let up”, so I can bring you to the edge and then push you over, just to catch you, then push you over again, then catch you, and push, and watch you cum over and over and over.
This is the moment I need to be able to sleep well at night.
My beard soaked in your wetness. Absolutely drenched from your happiness.
I have wrecked you and you know it.
You hate it, Miss In Control, to know I possess something that makes you feel so unbelievable, but you love it so much more, to know I need to give you this feeling.
So bring that pussy of mine over here and let me own it once again.
Drench me. Soak me. Immerse me in You.
Just drown me in your flavor.