Olivia was generally a fair, respectable woman. Easy going but temperamental when needed be. She was thoughtful and cautious as well. But once that bedroom door closed she was different. Giggly and expressive. hungry and determined. So unafraid. Needless to say Peter had never met a woman quite like her. She took him by surprise every day, coming up with odd routines or begging for him to participate in her games.
She kept a black marker on her night stand. She liked to slide all over Peter's naked body and draw on him, scribbling dirty words and messages directly onto his skin. One night when Peter had fallen asleep, she took her marker and scribbled 'Dunham's Fuck Toy' across his forehead in all capitals. The next day Peter had spent three hours trying to scrub it off while Olivia laid bare on the bed giggling to herself.
The bed was never enough for Olivia either. There wasn't an ounce of furniture in her apartment she hadn't bent over or sat on or been shoved up against as Peter sank himself within her. Her peals of laughter and her kitteny moans and gasps driving him on, driving him further, deeper into her still. Olivia had this odd fetish of having sex in the most awkward places and awkward moments. Peter would be sitting eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table when she'd come sauntering in and knock it out of his hands, not giving the slightest fuck as it spilled all over the floor. She'd grab him with a growl and shove his head between her breasts. And Peter was gone. 30 seconds later she was laid out on the table as he rammed himself into her.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-03-06 04:03 am (UTC)But once that bedroom door closed she was different. Giggly and expressive. hungry and determined. So unafraid. Needless to say Peter had never met a woman quite like her. She took him by surprise every day, coming up with odd routines or begging for him to participate in her games.
She kept a black marker on her night stand. She liked to slide all over Peter's naked body and draw on him, scribbling dirty words and messages directly onto his skin. One night when Peter had fallen asleep, she took her marker and scribbled 'Dunham's Fuck Toy' across his forehead in all capitals. The next day Peter had spent three hours trying to scrub it off while Olivia laid bare on the bed giggling to herself.
The bed was never enough for Olivia either. There wasn't an ounce of furniture in her apartment she hadn't bent over or sat on or been shoved up against as Peter sank himself within her. Her peals of laughter and her kitteny moans and gasps driving him on, driving him further, deeper into her still.
Olivia had this odd fetish of having sex in the most awkward places and awkward moments. Peter would be sitting eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table when she'd come sauntering in and knock it out of his hands, not giving the slightest fuck as it spilled all over the floor. She'd grab him with a growl and shove his head between her breasts. And Peter was gone. 30 seconds later she was laid out on the table as he rammed himself into her.