It's one of the first things they notice.
One of the first traits they complement.
The giggle.
My giggle.
"Damn girl, that giggle is so cute."
"So adorable."
"Too goddamn adorable."
"You keep giggling like that, gonna mess around and make me want to do things to you."
The higher the pitch, the better.
The more I giggle like an innocent schoolgirl in response to their manly bravado, the harder their dicks get.
I could stop the giggle.
Never tease them with the sound of voluntary submission, executed with ease and a smile.
But, shit. I'm just as guilty.
Their manly bravado turns me on, makes me coo and wiggle. And when I'm feeling flirtatious, that's the laugh that escapes my lips.
But then it comes. It always comes.
The time when the giggle goes.
When my cooing is replaced with feminist diatribes of truth and self-respect.
When the giggle goes and the questions come.
When the giggle goes and challenge comes.
Pushback comes.
Opinions come. Opinions that differ from theirs arrive and stay and don't back down.
That's when they run. Chuck up the deuces and continue on their trek towards the next giggling cutie.
I let them go.
But those that stay?
Well, that's a different story.
When my giggle goes and the depth creeps in...
There are certain men that don't run.
They don't roll their eyes.
They lay down that male bravado and engage me as an equal, a worthy and welcomed opponent and teammate in the battle of wits.
Well, let's just say that's when the panties drop.
The giggle goes.
It always goes.
But for the right ones, the real ones, it's always sure to return.