Full of slapping myself, hitting my tits, and pulling my own hair.....
I start slow—stripping for you like I’ve done so many times. Soft, teasing, obedient. But you’re not really here, are you? So I become what I think you’d want.
I slap myself—hard. Again and again. Red cheek, wet eyes, cock throbbing. My fingers curl around my own hair and yank. I whisper things you once said. I imagine your eyes on me.
