I guess I’ll be honest with you baby and see what happens…
I don’t really get any thrill from going shopping or watching other people go shopping. Maybe some of the other ladies you’ve known get a bit of a kick out of looking at garment after garment after garment but darling, that doesn’t excite…me.
We’re not really doing anything so it seems unnecessary triviality to me and to be quite frank it is not like we’re shopping for things for me, I mean, I’m not wearing any of it- it’s for you to wear in my presence and let’s be honest, you’d wear all of it regardless of if you knew or spoke to me in this life.
So how invested am I supposed to be considering I don’t already know what kinda shit you like to wear?
Right now I don’t even care.
You’re Mister Who? Originally from where? You’re how old again, honey?
Does everyone that you know and love know about your personal sexual preferences or is it still completely private? How long have you been into dressing like this?
Who do you even love in this world by the way? Who loves you back?
How do you know for sure?
Can you fish? Swim? Why do you get up in the morning?
What’s your favorite book?
You see these things are more interesting than shopping for sexy clothes. These things help me to decide if I want to know more. Knowing who you are is the best kind of shopping, I’m trying to get a partner in crime. Do I like what you say and want to pull you closer, bite your lower lip, pull your throat to me, press my skin up against your body?
if we had things in common, and you belonged to me- then maybe,
and only then
will I care about your fancy night dresses boy and your Japanese swimsuits that unzip from the buttocks…
That’s like level 17.
We’re on level 1.
I have to admit that I don’t want just any old body being smutty and slutty at the store with me because if I did I could just go shopping with the very next man that I see, surely.
Does this make sense? I can’t devour a pretty boy properly if he’s not even property that I know real well yet.