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To know you is to love you, they are not mutually exclusive.
They cannot exist independently.
And maybe in my mind, I know deep down that they never could have.
Itβs late, Iβm laying here listening to your sleepy breaths and I canβt stop thinking about what you did to me. My pussy is throbbing, begging for more. As though she didnβt have enough! Ha! But still, I want to give her every bit of attention she wants.
Sheβs craving the way your tongue glides across her in all the right places. The way your hands find the electrical spots in my body. The way you thrust Richard just right. I love when you take me. The way you slap my ass. It makes me hungry for more. More. More. More. I canβt get enough of the way you handle me. Iβm yours and I love when you show her that.
Sheβs hurting, still, for you. I might have to give her that attention after all. I feel your hand beside me. I want it. I can do the work baby. I just want to feel your skin on my clit one more time before bed. Is that so bad?