I have this insanely insatiable hunger to be hugged, cuddled, kissed, whispered to, touched all over — face, hair, lips, neck, tits, belly, thighs, clit, be filled, be fucked real hard, be bent over and taken to the moon, and be back just in time to round up the holidays, because I can’t get enough of last night.
He said my hair smelled really good and then proceeded to further chip away at my carefully crafted armour by whispering to me that he wanted to taste my lipstick.
In a split second, I had already imagined some of his fingers feasting in my hair, the rest sampling my wetness and that clever mouth tasting all he wanted to taste.
But of course, I was born for challenges albeit sexual half the time, so I declined his request instead and insinuated I’d rather be compelled to.
He picked me up, hands on my butt, guiding both our hips in a movement that made me feel just how provoking I was being to him; trailing kisses, feathery breaths, and whispered threats along my face and neck at the same time.
He put me down, and asked me « you’re sure you want to be compelled? », while choking me.
I must have consented with my eyes and a devious smile because he picked me up again and dropped me on the bed.
Bared my tits and suckled on them before unclipping my bra and undressing me.
He went down on me, skyrocketing me up to the heavens with his lips, teeth, and tongue.
I was beginning to think heaven couldn’t get any more enrapturing till he replaced his mouth with his fingers, then turned me over to fill me with his dick. I could have sworn I was rocking on a cloud 9 throne.
After concluding the soirée in that menage à deux and watching him gaze at me and my body, and look into my soul as if I were his most coveted human, I couldn’t help but instruct myself to wear aphrodisiacs in my hair more often.
