the life and musings of a kinky slut

Spank Bank 1.1: Foreplay


Me: “Please, take it.”

Him: “I can’t take your money.”

Me: “But I’ve enjoyed so much of your music without being able to pay you a dime for it. Like, can I buy you a drink or something? I feel like I owe you.”

Him: “I make music because I love making music. I don’t need your twenty to keep doing that.”

Me: “But it would help. And it would make me feel better about having your shit on nonstop repeat for the past week. Please.”

Him: “What do you want?”

Me: “To show my gratitude for your art and to help you keep making it.”

Him: “No, what do you want right now?”

Me: “Truthfully?”

Him: “Please.”

Me: “Eiffel Tower with you and your bestie that transitions to DP with lots of hair pulling and dirty talk.”

Him: “Well, that was blunt.”

Me: “Yeah, I’m the type of person who’d much rather be honest than disappointed.”

Him: “I think you’re gonna be disappointed either way.”

Me: “True. Seeing as you both have partners, and there is no way in hell both of your relationships are open, I kinda knew that before I said hi. Can’t blame me for trying.”

Him: “What makes you think I got someone?”

Me: “Please, you’re too pretty to be single. Plus I follow your Twitter, and I listen to your lyrics. I have my guess as to who you’re with, but you’re smart enough to make it only a guess.”

Him: “And?”

Me: “And I also know you’re jaded enough, but hopeful enough, to be with someone who deserves you. No matter what, a true fan wants only the best for their celebrity crush, even if it means less for me.”

Him: “So I’m your celebrity crushes sh?”

Me: “Don’t let that shit get to your head. The minute you become anything less than the hot spitting Bay Boy from Oakland with geektastic killer rhymes, my crush will be crushed.”

Him: “Nice metaphor.”

Me: “Nice brain.”

Him: “Is that what turns you on?”

Me: “Among other things.”

Him: “What are you imagining right now?”

Me: “Truthfully? Kissing you. I’ve wondered if you’re the soft slow type, with cheek caresses and nose nuzzles, or the fiery passionate pull-my-face-to-yours fingers-tangled-in-my-hair…”

Him: “You have a lot of hair.”

Me: “I do. Yours isn’t short either.”

Him: “What type are you?”

Me: “I mix them up.”

Him: “You avoided the question.”

Me: “I like it when people pull my hair. Is that answer sufficient?”

Him: “It tells me what I wanted to know.”

Me: “Which is?”

Him: “What will happen in about a minute.”

Me: “But you…”

Him: “Look.”

Me: “Oh, it’s the same size as my pendent.”

Him: “But I can’t lose it.”

Me: “May I?”

Him: “Yes.”

Me: “Affirmative consent?”

Him: “Hearing someone say ‘yes’ repeatedly is a turn on. Why did you just bite your lower lip?”

Me: “It’s funny you should mention that. I, well I…”

Him: “Breathy or screams?”

Me: “Quiet moaning that grows to loud deep screaming.”

Him: “Do you say anything else?”

Me: “A lot more. Is there anything you don’t like to hear?”

Him: “No.”

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