#whyyyy

When you spend hours on a project then delete all of it because it looks wrong.

I had to teach an ally friend the terms.

I’d love to have you bent over right in front of me, that perfect ass arched and waiting. I’d run my hands over it first, squeezing those full cheeks, spreading them just enough to see everything, then pull back and smack one side hard enough to watch it jiggle and bloom red under my palm. The sound would crack through the room while you gasp, and I’d do it again on the other cheek, harder, just to feel the heat rising under my hand. Then I’d lean in close, lips brushing right against that sensitive skin, and blow a slow, warm stream of air right between your cheeks—soft at first, then stronger, letting it tease and flutter over you until you’re squirming and pushing back for more. I’d keep spanking you in between those long, deliberate breaths, mixing the sharp sting with that teasing rush of air until your ass is glowing and you’re dripping, the whole thing burned into my memory as the filthiest, hottest thing I’ve ever done.