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Murder me with your dick, please, sir.
“What are you looking for, baby? You think I’d stop just because someone walked in?”
“Is that what you need? You need me to bend you over right here and now, then send you back out there dripping my cum down your pretty little thighs to prove it to you?”
“You want it all, Willa? The house? The babies? The ranch?”
“Don’t forget about your freshly fucked pussy. But no one else will see that. I covered it up for you.” “They’ll know though.” I point at him and walk in his direction. The other side of his mouth pops up, and he hands me the wine before he leans in close and whispers, “Good,” against my cheek.
“Will you take back my feminist card if I tell you I really just want to live in that little house on the ranch, teach guitar lessons, get titty-fucked in the hot tub, and have a bunch of adorable babies?”
“Did I let you watch the bulls get turned out with the heifers too much as a child, boy?” I groan. “You got something against condoms?” “Dad.” “Some sort of breeding kink I don’t know about?” I throw an arm over my eyes. “Never talk to me again. That you even know that term is altogether too much information.”
I’m doing with my little boy what my mom once did with me.
Fucking hat turned backward.
A country boy who looks as good as Cade Eaton should be illegal.
We keep practicing and practicing, and practicing, and nothing ever happens. It’s exhausting, you know? I have to wonder if it’s all the birth control we’re using?”
Her new boots are fuck-me hot and are going to look so good wrapped around my waist later.
“You wear the hat, you ride the cowboy.” She winks at me, looking fucking adorable wearing my hat. I should have put it on her forever ago. I should have put it on her the first day I laid eyes on her in that coffee shop.
