I love to be needed. Desired. Craved. It feeds directly into the side of my brain that knows.. confidently.. that I am the best lay/shag/fuck/boyfriend/girlfriend lover you'll have ever experienced. I know this because I willingly hold over your head our shared memories of the countless orgasms I've been known to give you. These memories always have evidence because I wouldn't have it any other way. Do you crave me?
I have bite marks adorning my collar bones and the crest of my shoulders, and matching scars from your nails trailing down my back. I got those from the hours I spent slowly stroking in and out of your sloppy wet cunt. We had a deal that when you got close, you would ask me nicely to let you cum. Guess I fucked you so stupid you forgot how to speak, and you just never asked. So when i would feel you getting close- I'd pull out. I'd take my peaceful time leaving huge hickies on your sternum and trailing my tongue over your cute little nipples before slipping back inside you and pounding your sweet little pussy. I could feel a wicked smile creeping across my face when your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you became a babbling mess... your moans a delectable harmony to the percussive slapping of my balls against your inner thighs. Finally, you pulled me closer by the nape of my neck until our bodies were flush and begged me to fuck you harder. I nibbled on your ear and whispered what a good fucking toy you'd been for me, praising all of my favorite parts of your body as I fucked you deeper as your nails scraped down my back. When you finally came undone I could feel your entire body trembling at your release, my cock coated in your juices while you tried to catch your breath.
Do you remember now sweetheart?













