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I want to be the one whose pleasure is the focus, not the other way around. Why can’t I just lay there and take it? I am not at all a giving person. Give it to me, dammit. Give me all of the things. That’s what I want.
I like him. I have a crush on this guy. A big one. I don’t know what this means, how it’s possible to go from straight to wanting everything from some big-tattooed dude, but it’s there. And I want everything. His attention,
the words he speaks, the very air he breathes. I want him to like me, to want me as much as I want him.
His tatted hands––black and grey roses on each one, with a bunch of smaller random tattoos on each finger––would look so good on me. Anywhere. My neck. My arms or legs. My dick. Ugh. They’d look so fucking
good on my dick. I just know it.
I’m a one-and-done kind of guy, and Liam here screams clingy. Fucking screams it.
Such a pretty little thing, I think, my lips pressed against his throat. “So soft and sweet,”
“Shh,” I soothe, rubbing my hand in a circular motion on his lower back. “You said easy, Liam. I’m going to take care of this little hole, I promise, but I’m doing this how you need it. So gentle, isn’t that right, beautiful?”
“Liam, you wanting me does not mean that I want you.” “Oh.” My shoulders slump, and I have to look down so that he can’t see it when my face reflects how much that fucking hurt me. I’m
not even surprised. I mean, I didn’t see it coming, but yeah. Makes sense that he doesn’t want me. Nobody really does and that’s something I’m aware of, so why does this bother me? There are so many reasons
for him to not ...
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“You forgot what? How open and wet you left your hole for me? Just like a good little cunt should be, huh?”
“Isn’t that right? Getting this pretty pussy ready for me.”
“Shh, it’s okay. I fucking love that. Were you thinking of me, princess?”
I’ve never told a man that I want to fuck his needy little cunt, that I want his pussy squeezing my dick until I come inside him. I’ve never considered a guy who’s too lazy to touch himself, especially one as big as he is, to be a cute pillow princess, but here we are. “You only want me touching you, is that right, princess?”
My pretty little pillow princess taking the time and care to make me feel good is everything.
“Why, princess? It looks so cute where it is, shoved up this pretty pussy.”
“That’s not what my princess wants, is it? You don’t want me rough, Liam. You want me just like this,”
“Yeah. You can be my passenger-princess, princess,”
“Do it like I would, sweetheart. I’d be so gentle with that little hole, wouldn’t I?” he moans. “You’re so sexy, Liam––need your tight cunt fucked so sweetly. Isn’t that right, princess?”
“Is my pillow princess touching himself?”
“Liam, you slut. The food is here. You can ride his dick on days I wasn’t born,”
He doesn’t want to go to sleep, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. But then he wiggles in my lap again, like he’s trying to burrow into my skin, and I understand. He just doesn’t want me to pull out. “You can just keep me warm, princess. We’ll stay like this.”
“Fuck.” I move quickly until I can push inside him, then slow down and relish the feel of his hot cunt encasing me, so perfectly fitted to me.
“Liam,” I groan. “This pussy…” “It’s yours.”
“Jesus,” I mutter quietly. “You’re fucking filthy.” “I’m what you made me,” he accuses, still breathing heavily, broad chest moving as his body starts to sink into the couch.
Mine, my entire body sings. I’ve made him mine.
“He’s pretty like a princess.”
“Your pretty pussy is the only one I need, sweetheart.”
I’m not really sure why I can’t just stick to one pet name, but he is all of the things I call him. My pretty boy, my princess, my absolute sweetheart. It’s crazy, blows my mind if I think about it too hard. Who I was when we first met would be fucking stunned at the way he just makes me something soft.
