Fate was on my side when I got to go home early, eager to make my daydream become reality. I hurried home, but remembered to call you before I got there. To give you a little tease, to tell you to eat something, and not to relieve yourself. Not just yet. I didn’t want your juice to be spilled and wasted; I wanted it, needed it inside me that night. I could feel my pussy thump with every step. I was getting wet just thinking about you. Your taste was already on my tongue before I even had the chance to slide it against yours.

When I arrived home, I slipped into the shower, making sure my skin was smooth and my feet in proper shape. I told you not to look at me just yet. I wanted to see your face light up when you gazed upon me—the best version of me, the one only you get to see. That is, unless you start parading me around, of course. Oh, I can’t wait for warmer days.

I painted my toenails and oiled up my feet, a golden chain adorning them, as I slipped into my feminine tan heels. On my body, lotioned and perfumed, I wore the copper dress you got me. It fit like a second skin, showing my nipples and my new jewelry decorating the left one. My black thong was peeking through the dress, and I took a picture with your camera. I wonder if you found it yet.

Hoop earrings, a sparkling choker, dark smoky eyes, and blood red lipstick. I was almost ready. All I needed were long, black claws.

When I was ready, applying the finishing touches to myself like a sacred ritual, I called you again, letting you know to freshen up. Tonight was going to be special, but not in its rarity—not anymore.

You hopped into the shower, and I just couldn’t contain myself. I had to come to you and give you a glimpse of me. As you made yourself extra handsome, I was admiring myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked good. I looked horny.

When you left the shower and had a first real look at me, you were so shy. I noticed your eyes widen and a smirk on your face; your dick twitched. You told me I looked good. When I spun around and showed you my ass, in a deeper voice you added, “You look really good.” We kissed—your lips were soft and kissable, but rugged enough to tell me you are my man. I wanted to taste your lips and your tongue all night. I didn’t want to ever taste anything else again. Other than your cock and your cum.

I led you to our bed and leaned you against the dresser. “A little taste,” I said, and crouched down. Slowly. Deliberately. Making sure you watched my curves move and my ass sticking out.

I slowly let your cock slide inside my mouth, parting my lips only wide enough to let it through. It grew fast, rock hard, and delicious. I gave it a couple of good, deep sucks while running my claws over your muscular legs before returning back to your face. This face that I know like my own, but love a million times more.

You playfully put your fedora on my head, and I looked awesome—powerful and wicked. We admired me in the tall mirror as you kept caressing my ass and hips and licked and kissed my neck and ears. I could feel the wetness in my panties. I suggested that we should fuck in front of that mirror one day, standing up, doggy style—maybe in my ass. I can’t wait for that day to come, when I can see my own tits bounce as you do me, and the pleasure on your face—the strong and wicked stare into the mirror at what is yours as you claim me.

Then we had some shots of gin. “To long, deep love and newfound passion. And to not being like other people,” I said. You liked it, and we downed our drinks. They tasted like memories, like sex—dry and intoxicating. We made out like teenagers, and I pulled my dress down, exposing my beautiful breasts to you. You almost drooled on them.

I beckoned you to make yourself comfortable on the bed. As I climbed up as well, kneeling between your legs admiring your dick and balls, I pushed my dress up and exposed my white, big ass. My head went down like a slut, and I began worshipping you with my mouth and my tongue. I licked your balls, and slowly up and down your shaft. You kept twitching, and as I rolled and flicked my tongue up and around your tip, I could taste your juice. I savoured it, like a promise of things to come. I loved the look on your face as you told me between gasps how wonderful this feels, how desirable I am. I am yours, and I love you. “You deserve this,” is what I told you.

The blowjob was so good that you became super sensitive. You needed to fuck me, needed to be inside me. And although I wanted you to dirty my face with your juice so badly, I couldn’t deny that my pussy was hungry for you. I felt each of my heartbeats pound against the wetness of my panties. I went on my knees, gave you my backside, and as my pussy dripped, you slowly entered your tortured cock. You came within minutes. Slipped out of my wetness once, but kept going. You came violently. You got hard again, then I came as you fucked me, then you came again. It was a feast. Next time, I want to clean you up with my mouth afterwards.

Or better yet, cum in my face. I have been dreaming of that all day. I love the look of your power on my shiny eyeshadow, clumping on my black lashes, a sparkle in my eyes, and then I’ll wink at you.

That day, I found something that I feared might have been lost.