I Know

You think I don't know, but I have your number. I notice. I see you looking at me. I know what you want. You're transparent. It's okay. Don't be embarrassed. It's only human. I like you looking at me. I look at you too when you don't think I notice you looking. Why are you blushing? Well, I don't mind. It's cute, that warm pink flush beneath your brown skin. Makes me wonder how far down you blush. What the rest of you looks like when the blood rushes to the surface of your skin. You're getting redder by the moment. Am I looking too hard? Making you think too much? Feel too much? But don't you want me this close? It's not a question, really. I'm here, in front of you, not in your dreams or in your imagination. I'm ready to do the things you fantasize about, that you try to suppress when you look at me when you think I'm not noticing. Maybe do some things that you haven't even thought of yet. Oh, you're so naughty. You should see how you look to me.

I know what you're thinking, sweetheart: That you're too old for these types of affairs. Too old to get the hots for someone like me, younger than you, firmer than you, prettier than you. You're a woman who choses logic and loyalty over lust. That's admirable. Now touch me. "Where?" Anywhere you want. Hahaha, my hand? You're truly admirable, at least on the outside, right? Don't forget, I know what you're thinking. Let me kiss those tapered finger tips, love. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. How many can I fit inside of you if I really wanted? A fist, perhaps? No. I wouldn't do that. Well...unless you begged me. Or, I could beg you. Ah, there's that wanton smile I've been searching for. I'm on my knees for you. I'll do whatever you ask, madam...mistress...milady.

I want to hold you, come close. You're right. I forget my place. May I hold you? Yes, yes, you do feel good—soft, warm, pliable. Your heavy, sloping breasts resting on top of my head. Firm, sagging, large, or small, it makes no difference to me. Really makes no difference to any straight man, as long as he knows that in a few moments he'll be squeezing, licking, and fucking those tits. Did you just catch your breath in your throat? Don't you like my rough talk? Oh, I thought so. Which ones do you like to hear the most, madam? Pussy, dick, cunt, suck, fuck. I can say them all. I can whisper them into your ear as I bury my cock deep into you. Maybe I can exclaim them as you peg me. My beautiful tart, I'm up for whatever you want. I can feel the sweet heat of your cunt burning through the material of your panties and your skirt onto my chest. Branding me as yours, and I am.

Show it to me, please? "What?" Don't be fucking coy. Lift up that damn dowdy skirt and show me your panties. I've always wondered what they would look like. Wondered what someone like you would wear. Are you wearing something scandalous because you thought that today you might have the courage to tell me what you're thinking about me when you stare? Pull up your skirt, push down your panties, and lift up the soft bulge of your stomach so I may see it all. I don't care about your weight, your plumpness, the rolls or dimples on your skin. It's more of you to kiss; more flesh to knead; more expanse to spray my cum onto.

Greedy, greedy tart, of course you can have some in your mouth. Now, you get down on your knees! Worship my cock. Have you ever seen one so beautiful, so hard, so big for you? Touch it, grab it, kiss it, jerk it toward your mouth. MMMMMMMM. Yes, just like that. You are such a skillful naughty girl. Open your mouth wider, take it, suck it. I'm going to cum down your throat hard. Are you ready? Your mouth and eyes have been begging for this every time I walk into the room. You are so pretty with your lips stretched so wide.... Don't worry, baby, when I'm finished with your mouth, I'm going to make you cum—squirt hot liquid all over my face, fingers, and tongue. But me first....