You texted when I was already tipsy.
I had intended to branch out tonight and fuck someone new, but seeing your name flash across my phone screen may as well have been the fucking bat signal.
I texted back, trying to play coy, explaining how much fun I was having at this party (lies). You know this game well and history proves I'm always on call for your cock.
You asked for the address and told me you'd pick me up. I pretended to resist, but we both know I want it.
At this point, I recognize your car by headlights alone. I'm at the door right as you pull up. I slide in.
Before we pull off, you draw one hand from my bare knee up under my dress. I'm already warm and your touch is electric. I give an involuntary whimper. I know I'll have that cock inside me soon.
Your low voice rumbles "not yet" in my ear. As my hips start to move.
"What time are you expected home?" We've been playing this hometown hook-up routine for a while.
Cinderella and I have the same curfew, which gives us just a few hrs.
You suggest we eat; I begrudgingly agree. I want that cock, but you insist.
Walking into a public place with you I'm suddenly embarrassed. Because I'm screaming "fuck me" in my head so loud everyone should be able to hear it. I want you to bend me over, spread me open, and fuck me right here.