Hey ✱✱✱✱… look at me.

I ✱✱✱ on that dark green and black lace just for you. Sheer enough that you can already see everything you want. I sit on the bed, smile at you, and pick up that ✱✱✱ clear ✱✱✱✱✱ like it’s yours.

First I ✱✱✱✱ it. Slow. ✱✱✱. Right in front of your ✱✱✱✱. Then I wrap my lips around it and ✱✱✱✱ it the way I want you thinking about my mouth on you. Sloppy. Hungry. I don’t look away.

The whole time I’m talking to you. Telling you to take it out. ✱✱✱✱✱✱ it for me. Don’t rush. Match my pace. I want you ✱✱✱✱ while you watch me treat this ✱✱✱ like I wish it was you.

Then I spread my ✱✱✱✱ on that pink blanket, pull the lace aside, and slide it in. I ✱✱✱✱ myself with it — in and out, ✱✱✱✱, messy — moaning, smiling, coaching you the entire time.

“That’s it. Faster. Don’t you dare stop. I want you to lose it while I take every inch of this for you.”

✱✱✱✱✱. Sweet. Filthy. That loving ✱✱✱✱ energy that makes you feel so wanted and needed.

✱✱✱✱ voice. ✱✱✱ smile. Eyes on you.

Now be good and ✱✱✱✱✱✱ it for me. ✱✱✱ for me.