At one point, while we were in his car, he was on top of me and teasing his cock over my slit. I really wanted him and my resolve on being a good accountable partner was threatening to wane if we kept at it.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered, “but we can’t.”
“I know. I didn’t ask if I could. I asked if you wanted me to.” He leaned down and kissed my neck.
I nodded, resting my hands up on his shoulders. “Yeah, I really want you to fuck me.”
“I want you to touch yourself later and think about this. I want you to think about me fucking you and I want you to tell me that you did,” he said. “I want you to think about how it’s going to feel when I fuck that little pussy of yours.”
So, um, I might have texted him last night about carrying that out. Maybe.