I know that Sex and The City had it’s series finale a long time ago but I never stopped watching reruns. The one man on there that I actually loved a whole lot was Mr. Big.
Dark hair? Check!
Very tall against my own 5’8″? Check!
And he looked so good in his suits! He looked like he smelled of expensive cologne. I fucking love that.
I always wanted Mr. Big to bring me to his home and lead me to the office. I imagine him sitting behind his desk and there I am, in the doorway, with a little black dress on. I’d flirt my way over to his lap and we’d kiss while he held onto my ass. We would get to a point where he felt like he absolutely needed to use his large fingers to inspect just how wet I was.
I have different variations in my mind of what actually occurs between Big and I. Some scenarios where he is submissive and I am dominant. Some scenarios where he invites his business colleagues over to watch me play with myself or to watch him fuck me silly.
My dingaling senses aren’t giving me a clear anaconda reading. I just know the dick is goooood