DIRT: the grunge diaries (𝒱𝒾𝒸𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝒶'𝓈 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃)

entry #127 - crème brûlée

⚠️ explicit sexual descriptions ⚠️

'Y'know I was kinda joking, right?' He chimes in, laying me on my side, spooning me, kissing my clad back, and calling it quits with showing any sort of malicious intent with me. And when he apologises to me, as a result of the ashamed set of eyes I've addressed his way, I realise I'm just a dumb fucking idiot. A dumb fucking idiot who hasn't handled his 'I wanna eat you out while you sit on my face and hold on to the headboard' in the most gracious possible way. On the contrary, I've made it much more of a bigger deal than it was. Okay, he wasn't joking at all when he said that, we are both peaceful over the fact that he really wanted to do it... and he would've done it, if I didn't pull a shy, and look at him like he was crazy for wanting to do what he wanted to do. He's being apologetic for having answered to my 'how d'ya want me' in the most sincere way to him, and I'm feeling like total shit. We were about to fuck, and now I just want to apologise twice as much as he's doing. He's my boyfriend, the one I'd take a ride on the moon with, and I give him crap when he wants to do something for my enjoyment? Only for my enjoyment, and for the tiredness of his jaw? Like seriously? When did I get so shy? 'Cause I remember that sitting on someone's face has never been taboo to me, before he first showed an interest in it. I once used to do it in front of cameras ! And I wouldn't have flinched a bit, knowing that my girl on girl movies would've landed in the hands of horny fucking creeps.

'No, you weren't ! You meant that!' I squeal, turning to his side, throwing my leg over his hip, and trying to channel every ounce of playful that's left within me. I'm doing the clowny, silly lovergirl, even if the temptation to apologise to him and that's it almost overrides my ever so oozing playfulness. Thinking about it, even if thinking when my face is so red it's stinging, and my boyfriend, the architect of my chili pepper complexion is taking a close look at my redness and is laughing... why should I apologise, when I can turn this whole skit into yet another Sean x Cherry inside joke? Like, he asks me to sit on his face, and I pull a shy, blush and overreact like it's a cliché, every damn fucking time it happens? He's laughing like he's endorsing of my comment, so why shall I fucking not ! God bless I'm a smart, humorous person... because if I weren't, I'd be running the hills now. Either crying my heart out and apologising to him, or sitting on his face already, and betraying my chronic shyness when it comes to doing the thing. But, self question time: why the heck does the idea of sitting on my man's face turn me into a shy virgin, when I'm no shy and no virgin to begin with? The idea in itself is pretty alluring, the practice of it would get me off like a bitch ... but heck no, I can't do it. I can do worse than that, but just not that. Apology accepted, my love ?

Apology non apology accepted, I reckon. Because before either one of the two of us can say one more word, even a playful one... he grabs me by the waist, he wraps his tongue around mine, and with a master's trick, he spreads me over his lap. I'm laying on top of him, my back is against his chest, his cock is against my ass... so fucking hard I just want it inside of me, and dare to call me shy again. Our tongues are twirling indecently but ever so lovingly, and his hand is back between my legs. More like, his one hand is between my legs, pleasing me so good and so thoroughly that I'm whining desperately into our kiss. His other hand is on my tummy, rubbing it for no reason besides making me feel like I'm loved, and like I'm in my place in this fucking crazy world. Aka, the bed at 10AM with him. While he's buck naked and I'm still half dressed and fully jewelled up. Or at least so I think. But take my words with a grain of salt, because I'm a hopeless romantic.

'You're the fucking sweetest. Can I taste you?' He speaks, laying me back first on the mattress, and crawling back on top of me. He rubs my cheeks, reddened and all, and I mumble something that doesn't make sense. Or it probably makes sense, just not in the only language he can understand. I'm a messy, head over heels in love sap, but if it makes me the sweetest fucking girl in the world to his eyes, I'll take the prize and I'll honour it. But I'll secretly keep thinking of myself as a dumb fucking sappy and overly romantic ass. I smile at his question, knowing that it's an invitation to eat me out I just can't turn down. He smiles back with spunk, I smile some more, this time with anticipation, I rub his hair... and I mumble, as his lips begin to leave a trail of kisses all over my clad chest. Then my tummy, then reaching lower and lower, slow and savouring as only he can be... until he's face to face with my lady bits, and I catch him looking at them like he's a dog drooling over a bone. And I laugh, because ... same. I've seen his dick so many times I have a picture of it printed in the back of my eyelids, no exaggeration. But still, everytime I see it in flesh and hardness, I gulp and drool like it's the first time ever. Like a dog over a boner, for instance, pun totally intended.