anna

sex god. that’s what you’d use to describe matt. cocky, attentive, a fucking tease. he knows how to use his mouth and hands just as he knows how to use his dick. almost like it’s a sport he’s really good at.

languid strokes, sloppy kisses on your clit, taking your folds between his lips and pulling on them lightly — all while holding eye contact. though sometimes, he gets lost. in your taste, in your scent. he could cum by eating your sweet cunt and that would be completely fine for him.

and his cock? not dramatically large, but it’s big. thick. fat head. veiny. it drives you fucking crazy, sends you over the edge. you roll your eyes and nearly drool at the thought of it. he knows how to use it. his movements are calculated; when to abuse your hole, when to slow down, always patting the tip on your dripping folds before sliding in. plap, plap, plap.

he fucks you like you’re his only mission he must get right. legs thrown over his shoulders, knees bent to your chest. it takes the air of your lungs when he drills in at the perfect pace. he fits all the way in. you feel him, in your guts, rearranging them with each plow. your toes curl. you’re his match.

or, he’s spanking your ass cause he loves how it jiggles against him when he’s behind you. matt loves to pin you down — ass up, face down, using your hips for leverage. to guide them back and forth, using you as his personal fuck doll. and you don’t mind, you’re fucked out, too far gone in ecstasy.

and his whispers are gentle. sometimes.

“oh fuuuck, you got it girl, just like that.”

“cmon, you’re gettin’ sloppy.”

“love how wet she gets for me.”

“aww, is my sweet girl getting tired?”

matt could turn sex into your favorite sport.

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍

for @dailydoseofchratt