Want it sitting on your face or cock

She positions herself above you, thighs spread just wide enough to make the choice feel deliberate. The weight of the decision settles between you — her warmth hovering inches from your mouth, your skin.

You track the slow roll of her hips, the way she controls every centimeter of descent. Nothing happens until she decides it happens. That patience is its own kind of pressure.

She watches your face while she considers. The question she posed wasn't rhetorical — she wants an answer, and whatever you say next determines exactly how this unfolds.