I think I’m a dude. Not in the “I have a hidden dick that Iris just happened to never notice” sense, but in the “I think about sex sixtyleven times a day” sense, and I’m totally playing off the “dudes think about sex more than chicks do” stereotype.
If you glimpsed inside my head throughout the day, you’d see flashes of sex. I don’t think in words, I think in pictures (blame it on my photographic memory). A typical day for me:
Me bent over pillows with Iris drilling me from behind.
Iris restrained to the bed, me running my tongue up the underside of his dick while looking at him in that “Hope you like this, cause it’s happening anyway” way.
That moment of bliss when Iris’s fingers enter me.
Being blindfolded and restrained and feeling his tongue on some part of me.
Grabbing the back of Iris’s neck while we are in a spooning position so I can better angle myself onto his dick.
The warm, tight feeling of my fingers inside him.
The look he had on his face the one and only time he orgasmed with me on top.
How beautiful he looks when bent over and waiting.
The tightness of his shorts when he has an erection.
How rawr his ass looks in rubber.
And that’s, like, before lunch. Maybe I’m a tad bit oversexed. Or maybe it’s undersexed. I didn’t think about sex this much until he came along. I always enjoyed sex a lot, but no one prior to him could arouse me as quickly and as often as him. So I’ll just blame Iris. It’s all your fault, boy!