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“Pinky what?” “Promise.” “Like a five-year-old?” “Are you five?” “No, I’m thirty.” “Then like a thirty-year-old.”
“Is that what you tell all the girls? Just spit it out? Seems… messy, and you don’t look like a guy that does… messy.”
Right now, I want to be that blueberry boy and taste the sweetness of her shortcake.
“And what makes you think you’ll be the one to make me smile, Shortcake?”
I don’t know if he didn’t want to continue or did, and that’s why he left. All I know is I’m hot, wet, and need to find a vibrator right now to finish what he started.
“Never allow others to dampen your smile, Micaela. They’re not worth its loss.”
“Fuck, Shortcake. You do that again, and I won’t wait to get you into that ludicrous pink bus of yours before tearing these absurdly tight jeans off your perfect fucking ass.”
“You taste fucking delicious, Shortcake. First, I’m going to make you come on my mouth, and then you’re going to come on my dick while screaming my name.”
“Goddamn it, Shortcake. You feel like every sin I ever wanted to commit.”
“You look like a pink cotton candy wet dream that I don’t want to wake up from.”
You only have one life, and you might as well try it all. Except meth, don't try meth.
