She’s maddeningly non-committal.
Making plans is impossible.
But she tantalizes me.
Lying in her bad, in black briefs, her hand lifting the elastic, reaching down to her pussy.
Standing, her gorgeous, round ass facing me, in a pink g-string, topless, her perfectly shaped, but heavy, breasts, dangling against her.
Looking down her chest, between her breasts, an overhead view of her cleavage.
Her crotch, in jeans, her legs crossed.
She knows this will not do. We both are tiring of this game. We live too close not to fuck. She’s got an angry, almost desperate hunger to be fucked, to be spanked, to be used. She has conflicting desires: she wants me to use her, to hit her ass hard, to fuck her powerfully. But she doesn’t want to give up control.
So when she asks me what I want, I tell her: I want to tie her up. I want to dress her, first, and then undress her. I want to tease her. To torture her. To use her. For hours.
I don’t care what she wants. It’s cute that she wants to direct the action from below, to top from the bottom. But I have no interest. I just want to pinch her nipples, to bite down on her enormous areolae. I want to feel her mouth on my cock, her hair clumped in my fist as I pull her head onto me, guiding my cock deep into her mouth, holding her lips around the head, her tongue on the tip. I want to taste her pussy – the pussy she tells me she can smell at her desk, through her panties and her jeans. I want to pummel her, to slide my cock deep into her from in front, from behind, as she wonders what comes next. I want to blindfold her, to handcuff her, to spank her, to punish her, and to reward her, for being the bratty tease that she is.
I want to use her until she’s sore. Not sore in a way that reminds her of an unsatisfying fuck, but sore in a way that leaves her achingly remembering what I did to her.
I want to do all these things.
And I will.