I enjoy making you cum. Too much, maybe, though you've never really complained. When my enthusiastic slurping of your pussy gets me so wound up that I need to fuck you, right there, more often than not your legs open right up, even if you've just cum. Fuck, I love how you want it.
And even on a weekend in, when we've things to do (eventually), I can't help thinking of it. Wondering if you'd let me slide my hand into your waistband, eagerly finger you, against the closest wall we can find. Seeing those pants, snug on your crotch, and wanting to just bury my face in there, paw at you until I can get them down and lick away at you, hear you moan and grab my hair and pull me in.
I'd spend the day with you, in you, reveling, enjoying and indulging in a way that feels selfish even as you hit all those peaks. Just pushing between your thighs again and again, so hungry for you that I can't stop licking and fingering and eating and fucking you. You wouldn't be safe anywhere, in bed, or the shower, or the kitchen, or the car, the tempting contours of your body just too much for me to resist, the siren call of the heat between your legs stirring my insatiable lust for you.
So let's enjoy this weekend day, when I want to wrench orgasm after orgasm out of your sexy body, have you until my need for you is sated.
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