That determined little lip bite is the kind of content I am here for.
lip bite
Also blah blah spanksgiving pun blah blah.
The night I got there, Penthouse and I messed around. It was somewhere between tired and playful, with the vaguest implication of a dynamic.
When he was close, he asked if he could finish on my chest. I consented and he looked me over with a triumphant smirk. There’s something about a man who has been dominating me getting right close to cumming that makes me super bratty.
So, when he asked me what I was going to do with his cum, I presumed he probably expected me to blush.
Instead, I smiled and shrugged. “Oh, just taste it like this.” I wiped two fingers over my bare stomach as if to pantomime gathering some of his cum and brought them to my lips, bringing my head up and down on them. My eyes flashed up to meet his and I grinned around my fingers.
I probably shouldn’t be so smug about how he came right then.
“You’ve been so spoiled baby. Are you sure you want more?”
-my sexy husband
So, apparently James Deen is making a legitimate movie.
I cannot wait to smugly look around the theater and be like: I know why ya’ll are really here.
Or, I don’t know, I could save ten bucks, stay home, and just watch porn.
This past Saturday night, after my super awesome best date, I took a little trip to celebrate a friend from Ivy University’s birthday. There, out of nowhere, while I’m catching up with some friends, I run into The Grown Up. Turns out he’s friends with the birthday boy.
He’s spent some time out of the country, my schedule’s been busy, blah blah. Either way, he had given me his number and I had never called it. But we’ve run into each other a few times and he’s always friendly and lovely.
Welp, I got a little liquid confidence in me and asked him why we haven’t hung out. To which he replied that he didn’t have my number. Oops.
“But, you could give it to me,” he said, “since you don’t seem to know how to use the phone.”
I grinned, “where’s the fun in that? Here, you can guess my number and then call me the next time you’re around Ivy University.”
I proceeded to go through each number by giving him a hint about it. Such as, the number of continents or "if you write this number out and look at it really fast it looks like sex".
“This is incredibly attractive to me,” he said with a snort as he reached the sixth number.
I shook my head, “I’m not flirting with you, I’m just challenging your mind.”
“Okay, Ivy,” he chuckled, “okay.”
Visual representation of the constant battle waged in my subconscious.