Dive into your creative stream
breaking simon into calling you mommy.
no fucking way, princess. he laughs and shakes his head like you just told him the funniest joke on Earth. no chance, never.
simon can't even believe you would ask him such a thing. him call you mommy? have you gone mad? why in the world would he ever do that? simon had a hard enough time submitting to you as is. now you throw this into play? you must want him to tie you up and show you who runs shit around here. (it's you.)
c'mon, babyyy. you lament, leaning in and letting your dark brown nipples rub against his. up and down, still wet from simon sucking on them earlier. just one time, c'mon. say it.
simon was coming up on his third nut in the last thirty minutes, and he was starting to lose himself. your hips were moving the same pace they were when you started, maybe faster since your pussy was creaming like a faucet. no, no..im not gonna-- fuck me.. not gonna say it.
he's not. nothing can crack that wall down. he won't. his mind is made up. you clench around him in retaliation, but the tightness adds to his overstimulating pleasure and makes him drop his hands to the sheets, gripping them with a force that would have stopped you in your tracks, must be why he moved.
fuck, mm-mommy. it comes out completely unplanned, unrecognized and unintentionally. simon can't look you in the eye, just gripping your hips again and watching you grind back and forth just a bit.
what's that, si? he shakes his head, closing his eyes and throwing his his head against the headboard. simon bites his lip and whimpers, simon riley, the 6 foot 200 something pound tank of a man whimpers at the feeling of your pussy gripping him.
mommy. i said-- i called you mommy. he reiterates, moving you up and down on his cock and watching it like it would disappear if he looked away. fuck you. fucking hate you-- fuck! simon's cum started spurting up into you and he was seeing white. his balls felt like they were cramping, tightening and releasing too quickly, too harshly, he swears for a second he's gonna pass out.
before you can quip, his fingers are wrapped around your throat and squeezing. not a word. he damn near whines. he's trying to sound all manly and deep voiced, you can tell, but his voice nearly cracked at how tight you are around him, and how fucking sensitive he is. not a fucking word, i swear.
maybe not now, but this will definitely be brought back up (especially when he starts to get a thing for fucking you while you're knocked up.)
simon eating you out while you blow smoke in his face.
smut. โคต
whether you've had the worst or best day ever, simon is ready with a fat roll with ur name on it. perfer pens/carts? great, he just got u a new pink one that'll take you to the moon and back. more of a bong girl, he's gotchu. bowl neatly packed with no crumbs fallin out when u spark up.
while yall are passing back and forth, the weed does what it does.. fucks you up. not even ten minutes later, you're guiding simon's hand down to feel your pussy and she is..gushing. simon can't believe it either, asks you if you pissed yourself. fuck you, nigga..eat my pussy.
and of course, simon, like the good boy he is, does what he's told. lazily sucking on ur clit like its a pacifier with those fucking eyes looking up over the pudge of your stomach, a little red and reeeaaall low. he rubs his cock to the bed, groaning into you as he goes completely non-verbal. no dirty talk, no cussing, just simon eatin' your pussy like hes trying to take your soul. which he probably is, by the way.
nuttin' on simon's mouth feels ten times better when you're higher than heaven, ur weed discarded as you grip your sheets, throwing your head back witch a choked moan stuck in your throat as your entire body throbs.