You shoot me a text to let me know that you’re on your way to come pick me up at my apartment. As I’m looking on my iPhone via Google maps to see how long it will take you to arrive given the traffic situation, another text message from you interrupts me. “I will be there in 20-25 minutes, can’t wait to see you sweetness :)” I like how much you think of the little things with me.
It’s a bit chili out, but not so much that I’ll bring a jacket. My doorbell rings, which was a little bit of a surprise because I told you I’d meet you downstairs. When I answer, you’re there holding a light sweater and say, “I thought you might want this to wear on the way to my car. I couldn’t find a parking spot in front of your place, so I’m double-parked on a side street.” Once again, thinking of my well-being. You’re so good to me. You will be rewarded for all of your thoughtfulness.
I may be an independent girl, but that does not mean I don’t like to be catered to by my man. I also like to serve my man on occasion. Men and women have equal rights, but they are not equal in every way. Men tend to become lust drunk much easier than woman do. I should know this; I’ve been intoxicating every man in my path since my teen years. However, I still enjoy flipping the switch from time to time and allowing a man to think he’s in charge. It can be very exhilarating to thwart nature’s intentions that way.
At the restaurant you let me taste the wine first. You order our appetizers, assuring me that you know I’ll love them. You are right, I do. After dinner you ask me if I want dessert. “Yes,” I tell you “but not the caloric kind. I want your cock inside of me. I want you to fuck me now.”
When we approach your car to return to your place, you express great surprise when you see me pull out a pair of scissors from my purse. “Don’t worry baby, you’ll soon understand.”
You start the ignition and pull the car out of the lot. I can tell you’re prepared to drive faster than usual until I insist you don’t do that at all. About 45 seconds into the drive, you hear me unclick my seatbelt. Your car starts beeping annoyingly. “Ugh… I figured as much,” I mutter.
I click my seatbelt back in, and then cut it with the scissors I brought. “What are you doing,” you ask. “Hush babe, just relax.” My hand squeezes your leg, quieting any concerns. A moment later I cut your seatbelt off as well. This might create an inconvenience for you and it may also be unsafe, but what I’m about to do is well worth the risk. You’re not about to refuse me anything right now, nor should you! My eager hand makes its way to the bulge growing in your pants. I apply pressure through your pants, then snuggle my face up to your shoulder.
“I’m quite comfy right now babe,” I say to you, and I don’t feel like getting out of this position any time soon.
“You’re teasing me Ashlee.”
“I can stop if you want?”
Point made. I insist you take the scenic route, promising you the best road head of your life. I whisper into your ear “Life is not worth protecting if it means passing on having this moment with me.” “Let’s just ride home smoothly like this because when we get home the ride is going to get a lot bumpier.”