Own This Pussy: Take It Like You Mean It!

Is it really sex if you don’t own this pussy?

That’s what I asked my man this weekend and he certainly gave me an answer. I decided to push every button he had. I didn’t wear panties when we went out dancing and made sure he got a good view of my ass. I flashed it for him and his friends until he pulled my skirt down. I pulled him against me and asked if he wanted to own this pussy.

He rolled his eyes, but I felt how hard he was against me. He didn’t realize I was going to make him own this pussy. If he wanted to fuck me, he was going to own me while doing it. That meant no restraint, nothing gentle, just taking me exactly like we both needed. I wanted him rough and hard, past the point of sanity. That’s what I was going to get.

So I felt him up through his pants, then let his friends dance with me, spreading my legs to flash him whenever he was in front of me. If he was going to own this pussy, he needed to see exactly what he was going to get. It was constant torture for him. Anytime I could flash him, touch myself, or tease him right in front of his friends, I took the opportunity.

He spent the whole night hard thinking about exactly how he was going to own this pussy.

It was exactly what I wanted, but even when we were in the cab and he slid his fingers up my thigh, I didn’t let him have me. He was going to earn it and he was going to own it. That meant working for it, then taking it. When we got home, he told me to go to bed, spread my legs, and show him everything that he owned, but I asked him again. “Do you own this pussy?” He didn’t answer right away, so instead of letting him touch me at all, I stripped down and walked through our apartment while his eyes were glued to me.

If he wasn’t going to take control then I was going to own this pussy.

I got in the shower, shutting the glass door, and started running my hand over my body, soaping myself up while he watched. If he needed inspiration, I was happy to give it to him. I tugged on my nipples, spread my hands over my big, bouncy breasts and showed exactly how slippery and sudsy they were. He was practically drooling as his gaze followed my hand down my belly and to my perfectly shaved, slippery pussy. If he wanted to own this pussy, I expected him to prove it.

When I leaned back against the wall, spread my legs further, then spread my pussy lips to show him exactly how wet I was. He ground his jaw as he watched me slowly finger myself. I put one foot on the damp tiled wall to give him a perfect view of my fingers thrusting into my tight entrance and he ripped the fogged door open. The feral, determined look in his eyes told me he wasn’t just going to own my pussy. He was going to punish me for denying him. I grinned and patted my clit as he finished stripping to step into the shower.

So I asked the question again. “Are you going to own this pussy?”

It ruined him. He ground against me, thrusting his thick cock against me so I had a taste of what he could give me. He didn’t bother to answer. He grabbed both my wrists in one hand, held them above my head, then thrusted into me. Every thick inch filled my pussy as I moaned and gasped for him. The dark, needy look in his eyes and how hard and fast he fucked me was answer enough. He was proving he didn’t need a single word. He already owned this pussy.

The slap of skin on skin echoed in the shower as he plowed into me hard and fast, biting me, telling me I was his slut and it was his pussy to fuck until I couldn’t help but the say the same. There was no question. He owned me, had broken me and when I came on his cock, neither of us had to ask who owned this pussy.

So the only question left is – do you have what it takes to own this pussy?

Call Bailee 1-888-823-6127