If I was your fuckbuddy, what nickname would you call my pussy?

She's asking the question with her whole body — legs parted just enough, fingers resting low on her stomach like she's already thinking about your answer. The challenge in her eyes isn't casual. It's a test, and she already knows you'll fail to stay composed.

You'd spend time earning the right to name it. Learning exactly how she responds to pressure, to patience, to the specific rhythm she pretends she doesn't need. That knowledge becomes the nickname — something private, earned, yours alone.

So think carefully. She's waiting, and whatever word leaves your mouth next becomes the one she'll want to hear every single time.