There’s something about Joe.
But, it turns out that’s my type. Joe is quick with a quip, happy to fling a playful insult and is as bloody persistent with puns as I am.
He’s also funny and sweet and damn good company.
But what I really like about Joe is how he makes me feel.
He makes me feel
Like, the other week we were playing around, being nakey and sexy and he got me to sit up, back to him. He ran his hands over my back and shoulders, he got closer, pulled my hair to one side and kissed my neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joe whispered in my ear, wrapping his arm over my chest, “so precious.”
I glowed in the light of such sweet validation, basked in the glow of glorious praise.
“So it means so much that you let me do this to you.”
And that is when he tightened his grip on my neck and choked me until I tapped his arm twice rapidly and he let me go.
Long enough to catch my breath before doing it again.
See? There’s something about Joe.
And not just that he’s hot. Which he is.
Or that he has amazing finger fucking action, which he does. He makes me come over and over with the merest flickerings of his fingers inside me.
Or that he has the most girthy, satisfying dick. It’s extra satisfying when I get it fully in my mouth. My jaw aches with the stretch and we all know I like pain and this is the good pain. The kind that has purpose.
But it’s that he lets me explore him thoroughly, find his hot spots, leads me to pleasure him in ways that make him growl and roar.
And he tells me I’m a dirty slut. That I’m just holes for him to use. He spits in my mouth, on my face and makes me look into his eyes as he does it. He turns me into his toy. His sex doll. I am there only for his pleasure.
See. There’s something about Joe.
Like, when I think I know just what’s going to happen next he flips from delicious degradation and switches to having me crouch over his face so he can lick my arse as he comes. His face smothered by my arse cheeks.
See, there’s something about Joe.
Lots of somethings in fact.
And I love that.