The Illusion

I despise the rain for making you wetter than I ever could. Without coaxing you into a calm and gentle acceptance, pelting you relentlessly seems to be completely acceptable yet when I do it it's aggressive. 

 I despise chocolate for the ooh's and aah's it recieves no matter what package or variation of style. I've cut my hair, changed my clothes(to an era specific to your asking) explored different colognes and still the taste of my dick in your mouth doesn't raise and eyebrow .   .I drank pineapple juice regularly for you.

 I despise your close girlfriends who intimately caress your breasts, in a "new bra" just to see how well it "supports", in wild girlish giggly fashion taunting me in your presence. All the while, the look of "this is how it's done" smirked across your face with utmost  smug "what are you going to do about it" side-eye look.

I despise the left out feelings I get when I try to include and be inclusive with my kink only to be met with addendums, hypotheticals to slow the process of my forward motion just so you can throw a fit and have your way . . .as it always ends. 

 What I do enjoy is taming the brat within you and showing her how much you can achieve by inviting wolves to the den with raw meet and a snare. Topping from the bottom has limits unlike the hungry wolf.

Clever Girl.