"She was very cute," you say, nuzzling your head under my arm, tracing small circles across my bare chest as your voice trails off.
"What?" I laugh nervously, not sure if I'm walking into a trap.
"She was. It's okay you admit it, I watched you eyeing her all night," you say in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I mean, she was fine," I reply, giving another little nervous laugh.
"You have a type, sweetie," you laugh, shaking your head. "And that girl looked like you made her in a lab, just for you."
"Oh, yeah? What's my type?"
"Short, dark hair, cute butt, big eyes," you rattle off quickly, "and that look in her eye that makes you think she'd be fun to throw around."
"That's you. You're just describing you," I laugh, running my fingers up and down her back, playing with her bra strap where it crests over her shoulder.
"I mean, yeah, I'm fun as fuck to throw around," you say, smiling up at me. "But watching you stare at her tonight, you looked like you had a few plans for her too," you snuggle in closer, playfully pinching my nipple as you continue walking your fingers back and forth across my chest.
"That girl couldn't hold a candle to you, baby. You're the only person I have plans for," I say, grabbing a handful of your hair, giving it a quick little pull while my other hand gently runs down the side of your neck.
"Oh, obviously," you laugh. "I have about ten years on that little slut." You reach down, grabbing the base of my cock, already half-hard, giving a long, slow stroke up the shaft, causing the head to swell as you talk. "I do things with this dick she could only dream of."
I've never heard you talk like this. In fact, I'm still pretty sure this is a trap, just trying to get me to admit I spent the night undressing that woman with my eyes. But hearing those words come from your mouth, hearing you call her a slut while stroking my cock, it takes everything I have not to immediately pin your down on the bed and savagely fuck the hell out of you, making you scream those words over and over.
Fuck. Now I'm hard as I've ever been, your hand still wrapped around the base of my cock. You look down at it, pushing deeper into the base, making it stand at attention, almost on display. You let out a soft moan, "looks like someone is enjoying this..." you say, letting the brief moment of silence stretch into seconds, all the while gripping my cock. I feel it jump in your hand, and I moan involuntarily, interrupting the silence.
"Are you thinking about her tits in that sweater, or that ass in her little pleated skirt?" You whisper.