Have you ever had one of those days where everything just feels like too much, and then someone you love swoops in with exactly what you need, and suddenly we’re talking about how squirting cures depression because she made me forget every single thing weighing on my mind. Macy climbed into my lap while I was barely managing to exist, starting off slow, with her hips grinding in this fake-soothing way that had me losing all train of thought, just clawing at her thighs.
She brought her mouth to my neck, whispering it was all going to be okay, but the second my hands got under her shirt, she tossed that gentle act aside and got rough. Leaning back for barely a second, she looked me dead in the eyes—her expression daring me to look away—then she dropped down and awkwardly moved one knee between mine. She pressed into me, waves pulsing and harsh. My living room got blurred with my thoughts, and refusing the aimed pressure gripping me tighter made things unbearably good.
