Quickie Code

Dear Butch,

Just about an hour ago I had you pinned against the wall, one hand down your jeans fucking your wet cunt while the other hand played with your rock hard nipples.  A hallway quickie post-dinner and pre-errands.  Hot, unexpected, and completely satisfying.

I just wish the tables had been turned.

I know what you are thinking, here she goes again complaining about her sex life.  But, it isn’t a complaint.  Just a request.

Quickies don’t always work for me like they do for you.  My vagina is complicated at times with flashbacks of a bad relationship and issues with self-esteem.  Yes, my vagina at times have self- esteem issues.  Your vagina seems to have no issues, besides a big ego.  But, I often day dream about being pushed against a car hood or changing room door and being told to spread my fucking legs.  Yeap, just kind of melted.

So, I think we need to develop a code of some kind.  A horny hanky code of our own.  A subtle signal that lets you know that I am in the right physical, mental, and emotional mindset to be toyed with at your will.  And not knowing if you will pounce will cause more squirminess on my end.  You win as well, not having to guess or poke around (excuse to the pun) to find out if I am game and then ultimately ruining the surprise.  And the grand archival of orgasm isn’t necessary every time.  I think not being allowed to cum per the command of my butch can be hotter then having permission to blow my load all over your fingers/dyke cock/tongue.  Yeap, you just kind of melted.

I will start thinking of the signal if you start thinking of all the new places you want to take me and, well, take me.

Love,

Femme

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