She got home drunk again yesterday night. It’s normal, I mean, not that I mind it too much. She went out with her colleagues: I come back home drunk too sometimes, it just happens. She knew she had promised me some sex, though, after a week of forced abstinence. But now she lies on the […]
It’s always like this: if I don’t get off for a couple of days my orgasms are stronger, last longer. “Ooohhh, fuck! Fuck!” I moan loudly. My body explodes as waves of pleasure runs through it. It takes time, then, for me to calm down. That’s the moment I anticipate the most though. I slide […]
I’m still lying in our bed while I look at you from the door, standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror. You are dressing up for a business meeting and I can see you are almost ready. I know you always wear your dress last. Moreover it’s summer: you rarely wear panties in […]
Too many ideas and never enough time to dedicate to my passion. Sometimes it feels like my entire lifetime will not be enough to write all of them. Writing is a form of art, isn’t it? And like all arts, the more you learn the more you feel like you know nothing. That, until the […]
I wake you up every single morning like this: I slide down between your legs, I lift them and I feast on your sex. In the beginning you are usually dry and closed, but your body reacts quickly. As you wake up, your lips open and juices begin pouring out from your pussy. I wait […]
Finally, he is home. Two weeks of business trip; two weeks waiting for him in my bedroom, consuming my fingers on my needy sex. Two weeks thinking about this very moment, when he’ll be finally inside me again. Two weeks imagining his strong hands gripping my hips and pushing me to the wall; imagining me […]
What if I think I deserve to be punished? New post in the “Word For a Photo” series! https://ow.ly/h29Y30bUGHV 0
Everything had begun as the most innocent of games. There had always been some strange tension between Anne and her boss: unspoken things, casual touches that lasted a little too longer than they were supposed to, and those times she had caught him looking at her bosom or at her legs with lustful eyes. But […]
It’s a work of art, isn’t it? The way the sun filters through the lace leaving trails of lights and shadows; the way it illuminates and decorates my mound; the way it merges with the tiny strip I left unshaved – like an arrow pointing to my secret. And soon I’ll slide down those panties […]
It’s the way he touches me. His strong hands, his long fingers, his strong grip on my wrists, and that feeling of being utterly his. His woman, his muse, his whore. I don’t want to be anything else than his possession; I don’t want to be anywhere else than here, now. 0