Actually, I Love Your A Cups

Transcript

I feel like I've said this before, maybe you forgot, maybe you remember and just thought I was being nice or just trying to get into your pants. I really like your tiny tits. Your words, not mine.

Actually, I love your tiny tits. I don't think it's a fetish, maybe a preference? Because I appreciate a fuller bust too.

But even that is the wrong language, isn't it? A full bust gives the impression that you're somehow lacking. And you're not.

Not in my eyes. Anyway, I know your eyes see something different. I don't want to speak for you, but I listen to what you say.

And I know when you're joking and when you're not really joking. And when you say you wish you looked like this or felt like that or could wear that, I know you're giving voice to something you think you don't have. And I know what I say isn't going to change what you want, but maybe, maybe you might feel better if I was clearer about what you do have and how it turns me on.

I find small breasts incredibly erotic. Maybe that sounds counterintuitive. Maybe if I didn't grow up in a media culture that fetishizes big, in-your-face boobs, I'd feel differently.

But I am the man I am. And this is what turns me on. Small breasts feel more secretive, more personal.

When your top comes off and my hands glide up your body, the way your tits ever so slightly jut from your chest. That sleekness, that sudden softness to differentiate it from your torso, that thrills me. The way your nipples get so hard, stand out so prominently, get so, so sensitive.

And how that makes your mouth drop open as I lavish them with attention. That is worth every minute, every hour of seduction. I love cupping them in my palms, covering them completely, grabbing hold of them and making them mine.

You really think they don't jiggle when I'm inside you, but they move, baby. They ripple. They move, baby.

They ripple. You compare yourself to other women, other chests, but this one is yours. And I know what it tastes like.

You joke that you can wear a shirt without a bra, but I contest that you cannot without arousing my attention. Your small breasts are so intimate. When you traipse around without a bra, and that soft skin moves under that thin material, it's like a mating call.

I want you. I want to slip my hands up your shirt. I want to fondle that silky treasure.

I want to bend your spine back until your bare nipples brush my lips. You think bigger breasts would make you more womanly. When we're on the couch and you're riding me, what do you think you are? When I want to squeeze something, I squeeze your ass.

That's what it's for. When I want to fuck my woman, I put my cock inside you. You, because you're my woman, and I like the way you look.

Look, I don't want to be crude about this, but have you noticed that you get my dick hard? I know I'm not the biggest guy around, but do you think I'd be any bigger if you went up a few cup sizes? You get my dick good and hard by being sensual, sweet, and sexy.

Big tits don't make you sexy, baby. The smell of you, the taste of you, the smell of your body. The things you say to me and don't say, those are the things that turn me on.

And your tiny tits. You don't know what you look like when you're lying on my bed with your shirt off. How picturesque when I'm standing over you with my hands clamped over your hips and my dick hugged tight inside that perfect pussy of yours.

How those tits move in just such a way as to activate my animal brain to want to fuck you harder. Or softer, when the mood turns. How those supple buds flush and swell under my attention.

How I love to lick and nip at that tender flesh, those velvet florets that demand care. And sweetness. And when you strip down, when you trust me to see you naked, even the animal in me, seeing what's on offer, knows to be delicate.

When your back is turned and those tits hide away. When there's just the rope of your spine, your shoulders, hinting at what you're concealing. What a mere twist of the hip will reveal.

That's when I get hardest. Anticipating that unveiling. I love the way they slip into what you're wearing.

The way the fabric falls against you and how much it can reveal. I love the line of your body and its subtle curves. I love your subtlety and yes, you do have curves.

You curve when I pull you this way. You curve when I put my fingers in. Your mouth, your cunt, your soul.

I've been in there, honey. I like it. I like you, inside and out.

When I first came to you and asked you for your number, do you think I said yes? Did I somehow missed something? Do you think I wasn't scoping you out from top to bottom before I made my move? I was familiar with the architecture before I asked for the key code.

I wasn't disappointed when I got past the facade. To put it in heist terms, I got exactly what I came for. I come for you.

I come at the thought of you. I've come on your tits and no, I haven't found it a struggle to get off between them. I like rubbing my dick on every bit of you, baby.

And I like watching you rub yourself on me. I can be poetic about this, raise you up on a plinth and shower your beauty with praise.