“How do I look?” she asked me while admiring her beauty in front of the mirror.
“Like the most extravagant wh*re, I've ever known… ” I cajoled.
Her lips turn into a pout, then they distort into multiple weird shapes one after another. I can't attempt to describe it. She frowned at me.
“How many times have I told you not to call me a… Ughh, you're impossible… don't talk to me… just leave…” She gave me a death stare and started removing the earring from her left earlobe.
Her response made me chuckle. I laughed softly and stood up, stroll, and reached up to her, and stood right behind the chair she was sitting on. I roped her neck within the knot of my muscular arms. She holds my forearms and tries to get herself off my grip.
“Stop, do you think I lied?” I ask in a somber yet authoritative voice.
“Yes, I'm not a hooker… let me go.” She bellows out loud, still striving.
“Shhh…Shhh…Shhh,” I shushed her and moved my right arm onto her left bosom, “Look up at me…” She glares, “Good, keep looking…” I squeeze softly.
My hand moves further down, I wrap my fingers around her collar bone using my left hand. I started rubbing her slit over the clothes putting as much pressure as I could. She swallowed a huge lump of arousal but kept glaring. Her legs came even closer to each other, hindering my fingers. I gave a sharp smack right between her legs forthright. The anger on her face morphed into an expression of pain. She parted her lips to speak up. Before she could, I spit on her face right off the bat. Spittle lands on her left cheek-bone. I yank her head sharply and make her face the mirror. I take two steps back promptly.
“Just have a good look at yourself…” I rumble, gnashing my teeth, “Do you still think that I was lying…” I stand still with my arms crossed over my chest.
She keeps staring at herself. Speechless. The spit dribbles down and falls on her mound's cleavage.