He’s got to be one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met.

Girls write nasty songs about guys like him. Users. Creeps. Men who collect hearts in jars who would much rather stick their dick in your throat to shut you up rather than hear you talk about your feelings.

I absolutely despise him.

So then why, why do I always find myself in his backseat? Panties around my knees, a sore ass and wet, throbby pussy…. glaring at his smirk and hoping he’ll spank me and fuck me one more time before he drops me off at home?

or… maybe a few more times?

(via daddysplaything)