Mister Sexy Slaps Me With The Creamiest Sauce
Mister Sexy slapped me with the creamiest sauce. GIRL! I am so serious, it was like marshmallow cream. Not quite as thick as peanut butter, yet it had the tackiness of snot of aloe vera gel. It sounds gross to you, but I love how it streams in ropes and ropes of ooey-gooey greatness. His seamen strings up like hoop cheese or mozzarella.
I name all the guys I date based on personality and experience. This award-winning cock holder has earned the name “Mister Sexy.” Not only is he a sturdy guy, but he has the daddy voice. I’m sure you are aware of the type of voice, right? That voice that quiets your storm and becomes a voice of reasoning in times of panic. Mister Sexy was almost labeled as DILF simply because of his daddy voice, but then I found that he is childless.
A DILF is a “daddy I’d like to fuck.” Mister Sexy has even given me the “settle down” look that my dad gives me with one glare and a wink. Oh, I melt when he grabs ahold of my hand. Caressing my hand, as he looks deep into the windows of my soul and feeds me. Oh, he is like honey in my tea, and cream in my coffee. Tell me anything and I will believe it Big Daddy!
He Is Just a Guy
We met on a regular day, doing regular tasks. Date night, and coffee dates, followed by tons of texting and laughs. It is almost as if he is sizing me up on an auction block until he compliments me for my inner beauty and skill. You might find the things he says to be subpar or minuscule, but to me those words are better than gold, for they are genuine and heartfelt.
Mister Sexy is a regular guy, working a regular job for decent pay. He does not have to be a celebrity or James Bond. I am not a damsel in distress, so he does not have to play Captain Save a Heaux. Chivalry is live and well when dealing with Mister Sexy. He calls me Sweet Pea, and that is sweet as pie.
This guy has manners. He is very much so about his business. He loves God, his family, and our country. Never once has he pressured me for sex. But oh, LORD! I just want to serve him pussy on a platter for breakfast the rest of our lives. Though I refrain from being too forward, he sneaks in to the depths of my very being a little at a time. Staining my face with a blushing red glow of light and love. Filling my heart with joy and bringing me peace like no other.
Yet, I want to dramatize it all. I want to test our boundaries and know no limits. Please! MISTER SEXY, bend me over and scream at me. Make me kiss your gavel, and give me justice. Force me down on my knees. Have me bow to the king. You are my king, now slap your rod and staff and I’ll spit on you. Slap me against the face. Make me chant and exclaim my love for you. Serve me your cream sauce and make me your cum slut. I’ll be your favorite cum dumpster in our next telephonic relief session. So call me at the number below.
“I’m just a cheating wife that loves you more than my husband.”