Page 60 of Missiletoe
Worried that he was about to cancel sex on me, I said, “Don’t worry, babe, I got this. Where’s the lube?”
Paris didn’t answer. Instead, he ran a finger under the lacy waistband of my pink panties. They had little strawberries on them, and I refuse to defend that fashion choice. If you’d been there to see them, you’d know they were fire.
I can’t show them to you though, and you’ll find out why in a second.
Paris seemed like he’d gone into a trance, and he ran his hands over every square, silky inch of my panties, paying special attention to the growing wet spot covering the tip of my dick.
There was a loudRIIIIP, and suddenly I was naked as the day I was born.
“My panties!” I cried out mournfully.
“I’ll get you new ones,” Paris growled as he tore his own underwear in his haste to get out of them.
Folks, he never made good on that promise, so that’s why I can’t show them to you.
Paris reached into the nightstand and pulled out lube and condoms, which really put his wholeI swear this isn’t my hookup spotdeclaration under scrutiny, because what the fuck did he need condoms for if he wasn’t running a conga line of people through here day and night, huh?
But I wasn’t there to slut shame. If anything, I was there to do the opposite. I wanted to dirty up that angelic man like no one’s business. I was there to slut exalt. I was planning on strutting my slut stuff so much that even if Paris did have a conga line, he’d never want anything to do with it again.
I tried to take the lube (it was strawberry flavored!) from Paris because he’d slowed down again for some reason, and since my trance inducing panties had bit the dust, I thought Paris had finally started to worry about how incompatible our sizes might be. When I failed to pry the lube out of his hand, I realized Paris hadn’t been worrying about size issues at all. He’d gotten lost admiring my tiny dick.
No, seriously, it’s like teeny tiny. I really don't have much down there at all, but it’s a ton of fun to play with, so I don’t care. I’ve never had any complaints, so why should I care?
“Vix…you’re so freaking cute. How is everything about youthiscute?” Paris took my dick in his hand, and my thinking process pretty much went on sabbatical.
He pushed me onto my back and stripped me free of both my sweater and my shirt with a ferocity that sent most of my buttons pinging off into every corner of the room, leaving me naked as the day I was born.
He traced my side with one hand with slow, lazy circles, and the rest of him zeroed in on my dick. He laid his hand next to it and compared it to his thumb, which was definitely bigger.
In my defense, his hands were huge, so it was pretty inevitable. My dick is bigger than my thumb but smaller than his. The realization had my tiny cock plumping a bit more because apparently, it really liked the idea of being with someone who could break me in half if he wasn’t careful.
What the fuck, dick?
Ha! I’m kidding. I’ve known this about myself for ages. The bigger the better, my friends. But before then, I’d never met a gentle giant like Paris, and now that I have, I’ve called permanent and forever dibs. I have the machines and tech to back up these dibs, so warn your friends if you see them sniffing after my man.
Unless you don’t like them very much.
“I want you in my mouth,” Paris said. “Will you let me do that, bunny?”
“Paris, my dick won’t last ten seconds in your mouth before going off, because I’ve been at least at half-mast since we met.”
Nope. You’ll find shame is something I have no acquaintance with. Shame really just slows people down, you know?
Instead of seeming put off, Paris’s eyes went dark, and he began to give my dick slow, teasing strokes. “How many times can I make you come tonight, bunny? Is it more than six? Will you cry for me if I try to find out?”
Paris wanted me to cry for him?
I shivered as something dark and delicious swirled through me. “I-I don’t know. No one has ever tried to find out.” I was pretty sure I could orgasm for Paris six times, and the look in his eye told me I’d be joyfully crying for him before he was done with me.
“I think we should try. Don’t you?” Paris was giving me a coaxing smile that had major soft Daddy energy.
Good lord, I was so gone on the man.
“Yes. For science,” I agreed. With how his hand was already turning me into goo, I would have agreed to anything.
“Science.” Paris nodded seriously. “It’s about trial and error, right? Fortunately, we have all night to experiment.” I almost missed the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Let me change my previous comment to Paris having majornaughtysoft Daddy energy.
