u/-night-diving-

Look at you. Lying there sweetly, sleeping peacefully. Glowing in the rising sunlight. We'd been snuggled up all night, comfy PJs to keep us from misbehaving so we could be productive today, but all that really meant was I got to feel your figure pressing back into me, still as soft and fit to my hands as it is when we're going wild on each other. I don't know if you consciously push back into me when you feel me twitch against your ass, but it's both beautiful and torturous. Goddamn, we fit together well.

But then we drift off, and I wake up with you still in my arms, and my hands want to wander. Explore. Unveil. I need these damn clothes and sheets out of the way so I can feel the warmth of your skin. The touch of our chemistry. There's no replacing that feeling. No obscuring it. I just want every inch now.

I run my hands over your resting figure, slipping into your top and along your belly. Gently, subtly just beneath your breasts. I don't want to get too bold, not yet. I move along to your side, grab your hip a bit. Do I hear a sigh? Is there a dream my hands are making their way into right now?

I shift to your legs, feeling the softness of your thighs under those damn little shorts. The outer part of your thigh is sexy, but when my hand circles in and touches the inner... There's just something different there. Welcoming, vulnerable, devine. I can't be much more patient at this point. I need to pull you into a new position. Laid back, flat, and open. I want to start replacing my touch with my kiss. I need to taste the skin I've just memorized by touch. Are you fluttering awake yet? Or will it only be when I reach sensitive places that send shivers through your spine that you open up and realize that it hasn't been a dirty dream, but me being terribly greedy?

Good morning. Let me shimmy these shorts off for you. I need to taste the rest of you.

I know you're in the mood. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. You think that fantasies and erotica will satiate the needs you're feeling. That your fingers or your favorite toys will suffice once you're riled up enough by your imagination.

But I don't think that's enough for you right now. Not with the way your body is responding to the thoughts passing through your mind. How can you read a man tell you how he wants to take you, feel you, fill you and not want real hands all over you? How do you think of a man's voice telling you to get in his favorite position, the gruffness and command to get you on your knees and looking up at him like a good girl, and feel your knees buckle and not just give in to the urges?

Maybe he's home, and you just don't want to bother him. But you should. You should go surprise him with your boldness and trace your fingertips along his neck while he's doing whatever it is you think he'd rather be doing, and whisper what you really want to do. Smile as you do it. Call him that name he loves, tell him you've been thinking dirty things about him. He'll drop his little project and give you what you need. That first push inside that reminds you why you keep him around. Go feel nice and full of him.

Or maybe he's not around. Maybe the guy you think of when you're in a mood like this isn't the guy you want to live with, but you can't help but daydream about the way he handles you. That one crazy, unforgettable time you always drift back to when your hand slips between your legs; the power he had, the strength he used to give you the kind of fuck you've craved ever since. Imagine how turned on he'd be if you texted him right now and told him you're laying at home, thinking about that one time. That you're dangerously turned on, and you just need that kind of fuck again. Deep, rough, overheated. The kind that turns you uncharacteristically slutty, the side of you only he really brings out.

Or maybe you haven't had that guy yet. You have a sense that he might be into you, the flirting and chemistry is there, a move just hasn't been made. But can sense that he'd be a fun fuck. You want to see him undressed, find out what he's got hidden away, you want to taste him and show him your hunger. He's just a text away. A daringly forward proposition and an address. You could just tell him to come give you the cock you deserve and he'll be helpless to his instincts. You're not interested in settling for your own delicate fingers or cold, disinterested plastic. You want the warmth of his skin, the affirming throb of real dick, the sense of discovery of his favorite buttons to push and drive him fucking crazy, the feeling of making him cum wherever you hope to feel him with your touch and your lips and your fuck.

You deserve it, don't you think?

No incest.

It’s a very reductive way of talking about that moment after you’ve made a man cum with your mouth.

Those two are options, sure. But “spit” just has such a negative, unpleasant connotation to it. Like you’re running off to send it down a drain. That’s your prerogative, if you hate it but want to satisfy that man, of course. And “swallow,” naturally, is the answer all the guys say they want to hear. You love taking it right down your throat with a smile like a good girl, etc etc. But then it’s over. No visual remnants, no evidence left behind.

What about the girls who “spill?” The ones who are so focused on the pace and performance and making that cock pulse and gush that it hardly matters where the cum goes while it’s happening. A bit can slip down your throat, but mostly it just leaks back out from your lips and onto our skin. Mine if I’m laid out and you’re on elbows and knees to drain me, yours if you’re kneeling underneath me. Isn’t that what a real cumslut should look like at the end? Coated, leaking load from her lips, plenty of opportunity to rub it into her chest or gather it to make a show of eating it back up. Lick it clean off of me if you’ve left a mess. You’ll love the extra little twitches you feel after you’ve gotten me so sensitive.

So, what kind of girl are you?

It’s a very reductive way of talking about that moment after you’ve made a man cum with your mouth.

Those two are options, sure. But “spit” just has such a negative, unpleasant connotation to it. Like you’re running off to send it down a drain. That’s your prerogative, if you hate it but want to satisfy that man, of course. And “swallow,” naturally, is the answer all the guys say they want to hear. You love taking it right down your throat with a smile like a good girl, etc etc. But then it’s over. No visual remnants, no evidence left behind.

What about the girls who “spill?” The ones who are so focused on the pace and performance and making that cock pulse and gush that it hardly matters where the cum goes while it’s happening. A bit can slip down your throat, but mostly it just leaks back out from your lips and onto our skin. Mine if I’m laid out and you’re on elbows and knees to drain me, yours if you’re kneeling underneath me. Isn’t that what a real cumslut should look like at the end? Coated, leaking load from her lips, plenty of opportunity to rub it into her chest or gather it to make a show of eating it back up. Lick it clean off of me if you’ve left a mess. You’ll love the extra little twitches you feel after you’ve gotten me so sensitive.

So, what kind of girl are you?

I know you're in the mood. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. You think that fantasies and erotica will satiate the needs you're feeling. That your fingers or your favorite toys will suffice once you're riled up enough by your imagination.

But I don't think that's enough for you right now. Not with the way your body is responding to the thoughts passing through your mind. How can you read a man tell you how he wants to take you, feel you, fill you and not want real hands all over you? How do you think of a man's voice telling you to get in his favorite position, the gruffness and command to get you on your knees and looking up at him like a good girl, and feel your knees buckle and not just give in to the urges?

Maybe he's home, and you just don't want to bother him. But you should. You should go surprise him with your boldness and trace your fingertips along his neck while he's doing whatever it is you think he'd rather be doing, and whisper what you really want to do. Smile as you do it. Call him that name he loves, tell him you've been thinking dirty things about him. He'll drop his little project and give you what you need. That first push inside that reminds you why you keep him around. Go feel nice and full of him.

Or maybe he's not around. Maybe the guy you think of when you're in a mood like this isn't the guy you want to live with, but you can't help but daydream about the way he handles you. That one crazy, unforgettable time you always drift back to when your hand slips between your legs; the power he had, the strength he used to give you the kind of fuck you've craved ever since. Imagine how turned on he'd be if you texted him right now and told him you're laying at home, thinking about that one time. That you're dangerously turned on, and you just need that kind of fuck again. Deep, rough, overheated. The kind that turns you uncharacteristically slutty, the side of you only he really brings out.

Or maybe you haven't had that guy yet. You have a sense that he might be into you, the flirting and chemistry is there, a move just hasn't been made. But can sense that he'd be a fun fuck. You want to see him undressed, find out what he's got hidden away, you want to taste him and show him your hunger. He's just a text away. A daringly forward proposition and an address. You could just tell him to come give you the cock you deserve and he'll be helpless to his instincts. You're not interested in settling for your own delicate fingers or cold, disinterested plastic. You want the warmth of his skin, the affirming throb of real dick, the sense of discovery of his favorite buttons to push and drive him fucking crazy, the feeling of making him cum wherever you hope to feel him with your touch and your lips and your fuck.

You deserve it, don't you think?

No incest.

I know you're in the mood. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. You think that fantasies and erotica will satiate the needs you're feeling. That your fingers or your favorite toys will suffice once you're riled up enough by your imagination.

But I don't think that's enough for you right now. Not with the way your body is responding to the thoughts passing through your mind. How can you read a man tell you how he wants to take you, feel you, fill you and not want real hands all over you? How do you think of a man's voice telling you to get in his favorite position, the gruffness and command to get you on your knees and looking up at him like a good girl, and feel your knees buckle and not just give in to the urges?

Maybe he's home, and you just don't want to bother him. But you should. You should go surprise him with your boldness and trace your fingertips along his neck while he's doing whatever it is you think he'd rather be doing, and whisper what you really want to do. Smile as you do it. Call him that name he loves, tell him you've been thinking dirty things about him. He'll drop his little project and give you what you need. That first push inside that reminds you why you keep him around. Go feel nice and full of him.

Or maybe he's not around. Maybe the guy you think of when you're in a mood like this isn't the guy you want to live with, but you can't help but daydream about the way he handles you. That one crazy, unforgettable time you always drift back to when your hand slips between your legs; the power he had, the strength he used to give you the kind of fuck you've craved ever since. Imagine how turned on he'd be if you texted him right now and told him you're laying at home, thinking about that one time. That you're dangerously turned on, and you just need that kind of fuck again. Deep, rough, overheated. The kind that turns you uncharacteristically slutty, the side of you only he really brings out.

Or maybe you haven't had that guy yet. You have a sense that he might be into you, the flirting and chemistry is there, a move just hasn't been made. But can sense that he'd be a fun fuck. You want to see him undressed, find out what he's got hidden away, you want to taste him and show him your hunger. He's just a text away. A daringly forward proposition and an address. You could just tell him to come give you the cock you deserve and he'll be helpless to his instincts. You're not interested in settling for your own delicate fingers or cold, disinterested plastic. You want the warmth of his skin, the affirming throb of real dick, the sense of discovery of his favorite buttons to push and drive him fucking crazy, the feeling of making him cum wherever you hope to feel him with your touch and your lips and your fuck.

You deserve it, don't you think?

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I'm feeling tender and vulnerable today. You know I love fucking you hard and being your fucking daddy in bed most nights, but sometimes... Sometimes I just need to be used. To feel you turn the tables and show me that you have just as much control and command in this bed as I do.

I want you to see my cock jump to life at your touch. I want your fingers teasing my abs, my thighs, my chest. I don't need you to grab or stroke me, I just want to put on a show of my need for you. I want your tongue to warm me up, to remind me how hungry it feels when I'm fucking your mouth, and how I need to earn that.

I want you to straddle my leg and rub yourself on me. The only pleasure I could possibly get from that is watching you, feeling your wetness spread as you softly rock your hips. My body wants you all over me, it wants to grab you and flip you over and bury my stiff cock inside you, but that's not what good boys do just yet. Good boys are patient, right? Tell me.

But please at least let me taste when I've earned it. Crawl up my body and straddle my head, reach down and run your fingers through my hair. Ask if I want to lick you, the silliest question you could ever ask. I need it. Lower your hips and kiss my mouth with that nectar, please. Let me worship at your altar. Lean back, turn around, anything you want. I'm your good boy.

Please.