Sometimes it’s all about me. What I want, what I need, what I can take. But sometimes it’s all about him. It’s all about his pleasure. It’s all about what I need to do to make him happy. What can I give, to make him smile or moan or scream out in pleasure.
It is a delight to touch him, hands so often restrained by chain, rope or his words are allowed free rein to revel in every inch of his gorgeous flesh. My lips, so often stretched around a gag or elongated in ecstatic pain get to flutter over him. Tracing his hard edges and soft dips until I can stretch them around his hard cock. My cunt, so often wet and wanting but caged by his words ‘no, not yet, naughty girl’ granted permission to take what I want. You, inside me. Hard, fast, rolling, grinding because you need the release.
You want to feel me come, squeezing you tightly inside me as I ride, head to the ceiling, chest stuck out, proud to slake your lust.