What's The Point Of Making Out If It Doesn't End With Me Pinning Your Head Face First Against My Crotch

you stopped fucking my pussy a long time ago. you think it's pathetic, the way it drips, how it clenches, empty, red and swollen. it's not that i don't get to feel your cock inside of me anymore though. you still sometimes enjoy me cockwarming you with my wet pussy. and you always put your cock into my drippy hole before you fuck my ass. it's the only lube i get, after all. but you don't fuck it. i don't get to feel you thrusting into my pussy, filling me to the brim with your seed. that is a privilege reserved for my mouth and ass only. i am aching for a pussy fuck always, yet you won't give in. i have two holes for fucking, and one as a lube dispenser. 🩷

"you're tighter than your mommy" uhhh. ouuuughhh.. oughh... H. hg. H.... 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

That drippy thing between your legs isn’t your pussy, not anymore. Proper cunts get fucked, and yours will absolutely not experience that.

It’s there for me to torture, kick, edge, and abuse. It’s there to entertain me, to amuse me. Its value outside of that is zero.

I’m not interested in it, and we barely talk about it anyways. So, let’s stop calling it your pussy. We can edge and beat that logic into you, no matter how long it takes.

When I tell you I’m in the mood to fuck your pussy, I want to see your eyes briefly light up before remembering your pussy isn’t that needy, achey thing. I want to watch you remember that I mean a fleshlight, and you’ll dutifully hold it for me so I can properly fuck your new pussy. If you do a good job, I might even let you clean it up with your mouth.

Rough oral while you're on your knees, your back pressed up against a wall with your hands bound behind your back, nice and helpless for me. My hand on the back of your head, pushing you it in further, making you choke on it while I gaze hungrily into your tear-filled eyes. Take it for me, bitch. Yeah, just like that. You know how much I love making you do this for me.

What society has done to women is so unfair.

We took a naturally submissive rape toy, one that instinctively has no use or abilities beyond seducing men to get cum inside their pussies, and we told her she needs to get an education, a job, be successful, find a purpose.

It’s fucked up.

Women are so stressed and sad now. It’s because they’re worried about a bunch of stuff they were never meant to worry about.

Women weren’t supposed to fill out job applications. They were supposed to squeeze into the tiniest shorts possible so their asses would hang out and signal men that they’re cunts are free to be used.

Women weren’t supposed to hold office. They were supposed to coat their fingers in their own juices and wave their hands around the men they know, showing those men that their twats are moist and ready for bareback loans of sperm.

Women weren’t supposed to vote. They were supposed to make eye contact with strangers on the bus, raise their eyebrows, wiggle their hips and spread their legs so those men know her tight gash is desperately empty and craving a cockhead gushing cum up against her cervix.

Women’s natural biological role is to spend her time announcing her sexual availability. It was cruel for society to try and make women do anything else.

suck his cock while he mansplains why being homophobic is okay

my brain: breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding. breeding.

Giving her pussy slaps for being a good girl.

My Place

My place is on my knees with his cock in my mouth.

My place is standing over the stove. 

My place is staring excitedly out the window in the door as he walks in from work.

My place is standing at his side, with my hand in his. 

My place is cradled under his arm after sex.

My place is pinned up against the wall with his hang around my neck. 

My place is in the passenger seat of the car. 

My place is turned over his knee, or sometimes it’s my nose in a corner. 

My place is at the kitchen sink doing the dishes. 

My place is kneeling in front of him and massaging his aching legs. 

My place is being the little spoon while we watch a movie. 

My place is the side of the bed farthest from the door. 

My place is watching his eyes as he dominates me. 

My place is looking up at him with both arms wrapped around his neck. 

My place is curling up in his lap when the rest of the world is too much.

My place is obeying him.

My place is staying vulnerable for him. 

My place is following his lead. 

Yes, this feels right to me. Still, my place is my place because I choose for it to be. My place is one where I feel fulfilled, where I feel I am my true self. Often being in my place feels joyful, or peaceful, or ordinary, or natural, or freeing, even euphoric. But occasionally it’s humbling or difficult or so vulnerable it hurts. Most often I easily stay in my place or else easily dig to find the self-control to stay there on my own. But sometimes I have to be put back my place and it can temporarily bruise my ego. then, putting me in my place is an act of love. My place is always one of love and respect.