Somewhere along the line I had my wires crossed. Now I actually enjoy hearing women talk all about perfecting their aesthetic. Trying on various looks. Always shopping for more. It's the enthusiasm for their hobbies that bounces off of me. I love helping you dress up for me. The benefits lead to fucking the brains out of material girls that just LOVE looking irresistible.

I have a problem. A deep problem.

I get addicted to yappers. To yappers that just LOVE to yap away. The more talking there is, the harder I get... The more I edge. The more I just want to use those holes of yours until you melt in my hands. Until I feel your body tense every muscle up as your brain short circuits. Until I watch those eyes roll right back into your skull and you give in to every inch.

Whether it's flashy heels or simple sandals or form fitting dresses or crochet crop tops... It's fun to look good. It's fun to feel good.

I think that the amount of time you spend perfecting your look is impressive... You should be appreciated for it. You should be recognized for it. You should be used for it.

The only thing that makes it worse for me is trying to resist a woman who knows how to look good. I find women in this position, to be quite convincing. Like pull that tight mouth off the head of my cock until a pop echoes throughout the room... Look right into my soul and tell me how beautiful your eyes would look like a new eye shadow palette... Or how perky those breasts would look in a bombshell push up bra.

What can I say? I love women who exude a confidence that matches mine. A boldness that brings curiosity to what's next. And a deep hatred for when men tell you "No."

Tell me just how good that ass will look in tighter... Skinnier... Lululemon leggings... Edging me... Over and over and over again until everything that you've brought up and talked to me about... Is ingrained in my brain.