Miss

She doesn’t do things spur of the moment. If it is a date or a meeting or coffee or what ever, it goes into her calendar. She is composed, she is punctual, she leaves parties when she is scheduled to leave.

“Come over when your date is through. Bring coffee ice cream and eat my pussy,” says the text message.

And she continues to have a good time with Brad or what ever his name is, but when he goes to the bathroom she googles where the closest supermarket is and makes sure she has enough cash for a cab and texts “yes Miss.”

There is a warmth between her Miss’s legs that she never knew she needed but is as necessary as sunlight.

They both have to make sure she comes up for air, because she would happily drown between those thighs.

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