My absolute favorite words.
favorite
“Admit that I’m your favorite,” I told the Southern Gentleman last night, teasingly.
He smirked, “shut up and give me your cunt."
I sat back and moved my panties aside, starting to rub my clit. "Nah, I think I’m just going to take care of myself.”
“You,” he said, “and your tight little cunt and your hot little mouth are my favorite.”
“Oh, now you’re just saying that,” I pouted.
“Ivy.”
“I don’t know, the last time I wanted you I didn’t get what I wanted,” I slid a finger in slowly and dipped my head back, “so I think I may just spend some alone time with your favorite little cunt. You can watch.”
“Darling, if I fucked you every time one of us was aroused, we’d never get anything done,” he replied, “and that’s why you’re my favorite.”
This is actually some of my favorite stuff right here.
I’m small in stature and I like having someone’s arm across me like that, emphasizing how holdable and moveable I can be. I feel held, possessed. I like the strength behind being pulled into someone that way, even if it is gently.
That spot on my neck is my sweet spot, especially from the back. I melt. I absolutely melt. I give over to it so quickly that I barely even put up any attempt at a fight or a last effort to maintain some sort of dignity or composure. I literally can’t help it sometimes.
And together? Well, I guess you can imagine.