Reposting as apparently this disappeared from the blog for some reason. Apologies to those whose comment went missing along with it.
He tells me I look pretty and I squirm in my own flesh.
I don’t know what to do with pretty.
Pretty is what nice boys say to nice girls as their hands slide together, palm to palm, on a romantic walk under moonlit skies. He is a nice boy, probably far too nice to be fucking a girl like me. A girl with friction burns on her knees and a mind that never leaves the gutter. A girl with a bruised heart, a wild soul and a desperate need to feel his flesh between my teeth.
Pretty feels like a word he should whisper to a girl he’d make love to. Her pretty face held gently between his hands before their lips meet as he moves inside her with sweet perfect rhythm. He shouldn’t go wasting it on girls like me who’d happily beg for the privilege of his dick in my cunt, his cum on my face and his fist controlling me as it curls into my hair.
I watch his eyes sparkle though and I know pretty is going to fall from his lips and my cheeks flush and I chastise myself for smiling, for taking the word that doesn’t fit with my face or sit with my soul. I know all the words that belong to me, they’re the dirty words that make my mind raw with desire and my body contort with the pleasure they bring.
He says it anyway though … ‘You look so pretty’ … and my cunt drips.
I sure as hell don’t know what to do with pretty but I know exactly what to do with him.