Woke up. Brushed my teeth. Nothing but my boxer briefs. Looked for you. 7 AM on a Sunday. Lofi beats playing softly in the background.

Saw you there, in the living room. Laying on your stomach on the couch, book in hand. The Midnight Library, eh? I know you’ve been diggin’ it. A few rays of early morning sun through the slats–spread across your bare thighs. You’ve got those tight-ass yoga shorts on. You know the ones. Bright teal cupping each individual cheek. You’ve got some nerve, sugar, shaking your ass in the Lord’s light like that.

But fair enough. Be a tease. Get teased in return.

My body on top of yours. That familiar weight on your thighs. Hand on the small of your back, fingers wrapping around your hip, holding you in place. The touch of my bulging erection against the bottom curve of that pretty ass.

Bite your lip and whine. I bet you think you look so fucking cute.

I mean, you do.

I’ll grab the waistband. Four fingers curling down your waist. Pull ‘em down. No panties. No surprise. You look over your shoulder like it’s a such an offense to feel my index finger running along your slit. Gonna cop an attitude? Try it. Oops, did my finger just slip down further? My mistake. But, while I’m here…spread your legs a little. Invite me in.

Have some fucking manners.

You know you’re always gonna invite me in. Like such a good little hostess. Spread those soft, perfect legs and lemme feel how wet you are. First knuckle inside and I feel you tense–so tight. What’s wrong? Need a little stretch? My middle finger can come along too. How ‘bout that? Both fingers gathering your wetness. Greedily. Happily.

Turn over. On your back. Spread ‘em wider. There it is–come hither come hither come hither and fucking moan. Lemme tease your g-spot and draw a circle around your clit. Let’s play ring around the rosie, babe. One. Two. Three. And we all fall down. Back inside.

Look up at me through your glasses and whine. Whine like such a good fucking girl. You’ve got one hand under your little crop top teasing your nipple. My much larger hand joins. Palm your tit. Grasp that perky protrusion with my thumb and forefinger and give it a gentle twist. You squirm. Like always. Fucking love when you squirm.

God, you’re gushing.

What’s the matter? Horny? Needy? Come down with a bad case of the “perpetual slut”?

Fingers gone. Leaning in. Tongue against your outer labia. I can taste how fucking hot you are. Excited. Aroused. Concupiscent. You need this. You need it every goddamn day. How would you function without my fingers, my mouth, my cock inside you? Hm? Much as you like to pretend otherwise–you wouldn’t. You’d be a sad ball of need and want and fucking unchecked chaotic terror.

Thank god I keep you in check for the sake of, you know, society.

So c’mon, lemme suck your clit. I’ll curl my tongue around it and give it a playful flick. I love when you wiggle against my lips. Hands on your hips now, making sure you can get away even if it gets too sensitive. Long slow licks followed by sucking. I’ll run wet rings around that throbbing little nub. You know it gets me hard too, to hear you in such pleasurable distress. Run your hands in my hair, tell me when you’re gonna cum.

You always sound like such a slut when you let out that high-pitched whine. Your whole body shivers and shakes. Your thighs a mess of wetness against my cheeks. But I like you when you’re drenched. Makes you so damn needy. You’ll beg for me to get the fuck inside you. Get on your hands and knees and plead for me to just fucking use you.

And I will. I always will. Whether it’s with my cock or my fingers or my tongue. Because–and I’ll never tired of reminding you–you’re mine.