If I were a cocktail instead of a cockpit. …
An unexpected bonus for just about every guy on the planet.
He’s plowing you and you’re yelling for more.
Talk dirty, talk cheap, scream his name, scream complete gibberish. No matter.
You are the Mariah Carey of the bedroom and he loves every fucking syllable that spews from your luscious mouth.
Maybe you’re the “Mary the Librarian” type by day.
But by night, honey, watch out.
The vocal chords let loose with everything your heart and mind have been thinking about all day long.