Flawed.

I have a confession.

The kind that doesn’t need a church. Doesn’t need a priest.

No.

This is an admission to you Sir. Perhaps even an apology if you will.

But before I delve into that head first, let me start off with…it’s your fault. It’s your own fucking fault. With your cursed/blessed fingers of magic.

The story always starts the same.

“I want your body on top of mine. I want your sweet little mouth on my cock, and I want your cunt backed the fuck up. I want to taste you my darling whore.”

Of course I’m quick to oblige. Shoving the insecurity deep, deep down. Not letting any disruptive thoughts enter my head.

I back my silky, glistening pussy until I feel your lips. I liquify. My bones turn to their gelatin counterparts, my skin melts into a puddle of pleasure.

I can feel it right fucking now.

My lips have just kissed your tip. My hands gently pulling back your skin so I can graze my tongue against your exposed flesh.

I’ve just begun. Just begun my favourite thing in the world to do: pleasure you, when you make me stop.

My mouth lets go of what it craves, and a heavy moan fills the space as a replacement. Your skilled fingers have suddenly entered my dripping cunt. Your dripping cunt.

And they are not stationary. Oh no.

They are instantly twisting, pushing, moving, inside of me. You make it impossible to keep my mouth on your cock; my saliva slowly dripping down its lonely shaft. Like tears staining a cheek after a sad movie.

I want it so bad. I need it so bad.

I make a move towards it. My trembling lips parting just enough to fit it inside. Drool already forming in pools in the corners of my mouth.

But you do it again. You make a move and you don’t stop. You hold and release the pressure on the one spot curled inside me furiously. Without mercy.

You know very well I can’t help it. Can’t help the scream that shoots out of my throat. Can’t help my fists grabbing for the sheets. Can’t help my body writhing wildly on top of you.

You literally drink in every second of it. Every fucking second. You don’t even bother anymore demanding me to put my mouth back where it belongs. It is of no use.

But you don’t mind. Not at all.

You’re getting pleasured plenty watching how quickly and assuredly you can manipulate my body; making it do precisely what you want it to.

“Don’t you dare fucking cum yet sweetie. Don’t you dare fucking cum.”

Yet another thing you know is inevitable. But it’s fun to watch me desperately, fruitlessly attempt to stop it.

It’s adorably amusing.

So you see now therein lies my problem. I cannot for the life of me keep my mouth sucking off your beautiful cock, while your fingers are anywhere near my greedy little cunt.

I don’t feel too guilty though. Why?

Because it’s your own fucking fault.

🤷🏽‍♀️