Sexual Lamborghini

I’m his sexual Lamborghini and he doesn’t even know it. As we’re lying here fucking in the most standard way possible, and he doesn’t know that he can ask for anything that he wants in the whole wide world right now, and I would give to him. Instead, he’s putting me in second gear and driving me to and from the grocery store once a week. But who goes grocery shopping with a sexual Lamborghini? You’re supposed to put that shit into fifth and go drifting by the docks. Rather than switching me through the same basic, day one sexual positions of missionary-doggy-woman-on-top, he should be flipping me into fifth gear and making me take dick in the ass while belt choking me, too. He’s supposed to call me a dirty slut and drive me down to the beach so he can face fuck me while looking at the ocean. He’s supposed to ask me to ask my friends to come over so he can watch my best friend lick my pussy while I suck his dick.

But, no. Instead, here we are on this mattress in the middle of this room, humping away like little kids who just figured out how to fuck. I am his sexual Lamborghini, and he is yet again parking me in the driveway so he can run inside and play Grand Theft Auto IV and sit on the couch. What’s the fucking point.