whisper
“whisper my name,” he tells me.
of course i do when i get off thinking about him, the images, what i have seen, what he has said. he is always in my mind in the dark crevices of matter and i yank him out when i need a “fix”.
“whisper my name,” he tells me.
i always do when he is the cause of violent orgasms that cause me to grip at whatever is nearby. i clench my teeth and snarl like a beast. he brings out the monster in me.
“whisper my name,” he tells me.
something so simple, yet so arousing when you tell a guy you whispered his name when you came and “he” is not your husband.
oh YES!
Mmmmmm fuck, this got me nice and hard… damn you, woman, every time!
Mmmmm intense and forbidden. I love it!
Although it was his name that you groaned,
a dance with his ego did partake.
For just a minute, you were owned.
He had your breath, your mind, your ache.