You can’t stop fucking staring at me. Legs wide. Smug grin. Knowing exactly how weak you are for it. I laugh while I tease you, flashing just enough, spreading myself just enough, taking the mic out of how desperate you get the second I open my mouth. You really think you’d last with me? Don’t make me laugh. You’re obsessed because you’ll never have this. Never touch it. Never get close enough to do anything but wank and wish. I wind you up on purpose. Swear at you. Call you out for what you are, a horny little idiot who’d lose control before I even let you try. You’re gonna watch while I spread myself open, wishing you could shove your cock inside me. Not a fucking chance, mate. Stare at my long legs in my heels and stroke your pathetic dick over me. I’m too fit for you. Too confident. And I fucking know it. You get to look. You get to ache. That’s all you’re ever getting.