Don’t think of a pink elephant

And, while you’re at it, here are some more things not to think of:

Don’t think of checking into a (highly under-utilized) hotel, hours before my scheduled arrival, and edging, repeatedly, until I appear.

Don’t think of the feeling of my cock on your cheek, along your lips….

Don’t think about the feeling of my cock pressing against – but not into – your cunt.

Don’t think about my hips bucking as you suck every last drop of cum out of my cock.

Or my tongue on your clit, as your thighs clench my ears….

Don’t think of those things.

And don’t think of, say, your hands tied behind your back, blindfolded, kneeling, waiting.

Don’t think of, say, sitting with me at an (outdoor) bar, only moving your body when specifically instructed to – and as specifically instructed to – by me.

Don’t think of, say, tomorrow, NOT wearing panties, or a bra, because, actually, you think I’m so fucking predictable, but you didn’t predict that I want you to have the sensation of the air on your pussy all. fucking. day. long.

And don’t think of, say, how incredibly fucking hard it makes my cock just to write all of these words.

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