I did my hair nicely today. I wanted you to love the way it looks so much you’d grab a fistful and yank my head in for a biting kiss.
I feel pretty today, I made myself pretty today. And I only did it becauseI want you to fuck me up.
I wore this floaty blouse for the pattern of the buttons. If I open the first three, you’ll see just enough of my tits that you’ll wonder if the third button being undone is an accident. It must be, surely? Because this is just the right side of indecent.
I selected a bra that would give the perfect squish: cleavage that draws your attention, with depth you want to lean into. Oh and by the way, the only reason I wear this necklace is to point your gaze in exactly the right direction.
I wore my clothes this way in the hope that you’ll reach a hand across the table in the pub, put a finger down the warm crease between my tits and then tug the open shirt – dragging me closer so you can whisper into my ear: you’re such a fucking slut, do you know that?
I picked out these jeans because I know exactly how your hand will feel when you land a solid smack in the centre of one of my buttocks. you love the way this jeans hug my ass.
I only wore these flimsy knickers so that you’d tear them off quickly. I shaved my legs so I could feel your skin in perfect definition when I wrap them round your waist as you slam in your dick in me.
I painted my nails because I want you to spit on my fingertips. Tell me ‘go on, good girl, show me what you can do’ as you order me to pleasure myself for you.
I put on this lipstick so you’d smear it with your cock. This mascara so it would run when I choke so hard that my eyes water. I wore this foundation so the flush of fresh fucking would glow through nice and bright as each layer sweats off.
This kohl? I put it on so my wet eyes are framed, looking up at you eagerly as you beat viciously at yourself and stare back into the depths of them. The eyeliner gives you something to aim for when you’re hunting down a target you can paint with the first squirts of spunk.
I know some people dress nice for themselves, and sometimes I do too. But today I did not dress for self-esteem: I dressed up so you can tear me the fuck down.
Rip away, please. Start with my blouse. Yank it open and pop the buttons and show me how cheap my clothes are… how cheap I am. I feel pretty today, fuck me up. I made myself pretty today, please ruin my efforts. Trash my achievement.
I didn’t dress nicely to earn your respect, but to make your disdain feel more fun. So treat me like a rage room: fuck me up.
I feel pretty today, and not by accident. I wore these fucking fuck-me boot cos I want you to fucking fuck me.
