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I fucked him for revenge and I don’t regret it. He cheated. Lied. Thought I wouldn’t find out. So I called the one man he always hated. His rival. His opposite. Tall, quiet, intense—the kind of man who didn’t have to raise his voice to make you submit. The kind of man who never needed to lie. He just took. I invited him over. Told him the truth. “I need to forget him. Make me.”

He didn’t ask questions. He just shut the door and backed me into the wall, his mouth crashing into mine like punishment and relief at once. It wasn’t gentle. Not even sweet. It was war—and my body was the battlefield. He ripped my clothes off like they offended him. Bent me over the counter and fucked me like I wasn’t just someone’s ex—I was his now.

“Is this how he touched you?” he growled, slamming into me. “Did he make you scream like this?” I answered with moans. With nails digging into his back. With every arch of my hips that begged him to go harder. He gripped my throat—not to choke, just to own me. His free hand fisted my hair, yanking my head back Continue reading “I Fucked Him For Revenge”

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He calls the shots and I love it. It starts with a look. Not the kind of look that asks. The kind that commands. The kind that tells you what you’re going to do—and you already know you’re going to do it. He was older. Powerful. Hands always in his pockets, voice low, calm… but his eyes? They owned me before he ever touched me.

“I see the way you look at me,” he said one day, closing the door behind us. “You want to be told what to do, don’t you?” I didn’t answer. I just dropped my eyes and nodded. “Strip. Knees. Now.” And I obeyed. God, I obeyed.

I knelt on the floor—bare, trembling, wet. He circled me like a predator with all the time in the world. He touched me only when he wanted to, how he wanted to. One hand in my hair, the other between my thighs. Every whimper was permission for him to take more.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I say so,” he warned. “Understand?” “Yes, Sir.”
That’s when the game really began. He bent me over his desk, tied my wrists behind my Continue reading “He Calls the Shots—And I Love It”

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Room 619 – The night I let go. I wasn’t supposed to be there. Not in that hotel. Not in that hallway. And definitely not in that bed with him. But the second the elevator doors opened and I saw his silhouette leaning against the wall near Room 619, I felt my pulse throb between my thighs. He didn’t say a word when I walked up—just opened the door, let me in, and locked it behind us.

We were both supposed to behave. He’s off-limits—older, taken, dangerous. But I’ve never been a good girl. I’ve always had a taste for what I shouldn’t touch. And tonight, I needed to be ruined. The second the door clicked shut, he was on me. Hands greedy. Mouth desperate. I moaned into his kiss like I’d been holding it in for weeks—because I had. My dress hit the floor before I could even gasp. His hands were rough, his grip unforgiving, and it made me ache.

He threw me on the bed like I was his favorite secret. His mouth traveled down my body, kissing, biting, worshipping. When he slid his fingers inside me, I arched so hard I nearly broke. “So wet for Continue reading “Room 619 – The Night I Let Go”

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The stranger at the bar was my boyfriend. It was his idea. “Let’s play pretend tonight,” he said. “You be you—but act like you’ve never met me.” He told me where to meet him: a dark lounge tucked in the corner of the city, moody lighting, velvet booths. I walked in like I didn’t belong to anyone. Red lips, black heels, no bra under my silk blouse.

He was sitting at the bar, one hand around a whiskey glass, the other draped casually across his lap. He didn’t even glance at me at first. When he did, his eyes lit up with pure hunger. “You here alone?” he asked, voice low, dangerous. “For now,” I answered, sliding onto the stool beside him.

He bought me a drink. Let his hand graze my thigh as we talked about everything and nothing. My heart was racing—and I knew we were both fighting the urge to drop the act. But it made everything hotter.

Thirty minutes later, we stumbled into a hotel room like we’d just met. He pushed me against the door, yanked my blouse open, and kissed me like he didn’t know my name. He fucked me rough, like Continue reading “The Stranger at the Bar Was My Boyfriend”

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He thought he could handle me. He was confident when we met. The kind of man who thought he’d seen and done it all. “I don’t scare easy,” he said with a cocky smile, sipping his drink. I smirked. “You haven’t met a woman like me yet!” We went back to my place, and I could feel the energy shift as soon as the door closed. He kissed me hard—hands on my hips, tongue demanding. But I let him have his fun… for a minute.

Then I shoved him back against the wall, dropped to my knees, and yanked his pants down. “Still feeling brave?” I asked, stroking him slow, watching his breath skip beats. His hands reached for my hair. I slapped them away. “No touching!” I demanded. That was the first rule. “You don not get to touch the queen until I tell you too.The second came after I dragged him to the bedroom and told him to strip.

He obeyed, surprisingly quiet now. I tied him to the chair—naked, exposed, and so fucking hard he was dripping. “I’m going to ruin you,” I whispered, straddling his lap, grinding against him with just enough friction to drive Continue reading “He Thought He Could Handle Me”

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This is a giantess fantasy: I wanted him beneath my heels! To worship me! He was trembling before I even stepped into the room. I towered above him—six-inch stilettos on, black latex hugging every curve. To me, he looked no taller than a doll, kneeling on the hardwood floor with wide eyes and a bulge straining in his pathetic little cage. You’re so small,” I whispered, circling him like a predator. “So easy to break.”

I leaned down, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of my breasts swelling against the latex. His lips parted like he wanted to worship them—but I wasn’t here to be soft. “I could crush you,” I said, lifting one heel and placing the sharp tip between his legs. He whimpered. I laughed. “Hahahaha! You’re pathetic!” I loved watching him squirm. I was a goddess to him, untouchable, unstoppable, and he was nothing but a plaything.

I picked him up like a toy—his light little body pressed to my chest—and carried him to the bed. He gasped as I spread my legs, lowering him between my thighs like I was offering him heaven. “Prove yourself,” I growled, grabbing the back Continue reading “Beneath My Heels”

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My favorite sissy was already kneeling when I walked in, hands resting in his lap like the obedient little doll he was. Silk panties hugging that useless bulge. Lips glossed, eyes wide, eager. My favorite sissy. “Good girl,” I purred, running my fingers through his wig. “You’ve been waiting patiently, haven’t you?” He nodded quickly. “Yes, Mistress.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek—soft, slow. Then slapped the other one. Just hard enough to make his lip tremble. “Speak when spoken to, baby.” He whimpered. God, I loved that sound.

I made him crawl behind me to the bed, swaying my hips just to watch him squirm. He was already leaking through his panties—so easy, so desperate. “Take them off,” I ordered, and he did, revealing that pathetic little clit of his. I giggled. “Oh baby… still small. Still so useless. But you’re so pretty, aren’t you?” I dragged my nails down his chest.

“You’ll never fuck me like a man. But that’s not what you’re for.” He moaned as I pushed him on the bed, straddling his face. “This is your purpose, slut. You serve. Must worship and satisfy.” I lowered my pussy onto his mouth and he moaned Continue reading “My Favorite Sissy”

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Before the world wake ups—some of the dirtiest thoughts hit before the sun even rises. That’s when the real freaks come out to play. When your body’s aching from a dream that made you bite your lip in your sleep… yeah, I know that feeling.
Lucky for you—I’m always available before the world wakes up.

You want to roll over and slide right in without a word? You can. You want to call me while your cock is rock hard under the sheets, or while you’re soaked through those panties? I’m here. You want to tell me every nasty thought running through your mind while you stroke it slow, or while you ride your own fingers? Baby, I’m listening.

I want your morning wood. I want your sleepy, raw, unfiltered need.
You don’t have to hold back with me. You don’t even need to say hello—just let me hear how good you sound when you cum before the birds start chirping. That’s my favorite kind of wake-up call.

We can keep it slow and teasing, or you can fuck me half-awake like you’ve been waiting all night for it. I’ll bend over the kitchen counter while the coffee’s still brewing.

Continue reading “Before the World Wakes Up”

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Drinking on control was the game. The forbidden cocktail of power and pleasure. It started with a clink of ice in a glass—innocent enough. Sweet. Fizzy. Just a little too pink. But tonight wasn’t about innocence. He told me to drink. I didn’t ask what was in it. That was the game. Consent whispered in the background of every command, every glance, every touch. I had agreed long before the first sip. The rules were known. The limits were drawn. Safe words tucked neatly behind my teeth, just in case.

The liquid slid down my throat like silk, warmth blooming in my chest. One drink became two. My cheeks flushed. Body loosened up. Thoughts, always so sharp and defiant, started to melt into something… pliable. He watched. Always watching. “You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?” he asked, fingers curling around my jaw. I nodded, unable to lie. My body was betraying me—in the most delicious way. Every sensation was amplified. Every word he spoke sent shivers across my skin.

He made me stand. Made me bend. Made me stay. The room spun slowly, like a carousel of lust. His voice was the only anchor I had, commanding and calm, telling

Continue reading “The Forbidden Cocktail of Power and Pleasure”

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I fucked my landlord to get out of paying my rent last night. Was behind 3 months and he was going to put me out. I had been hanging out all night with friends, drinking and doing party favors having an amazing time. But when I got home that night turned upside down. There was padlock on my door. “You gotta be fucking kidding me!” I yelled. Unfortunately he lived down the hall from me so I could see him popping his fat head out of his door.

“What the fuck Alfred! I said I was going to get you your rent money this week! Now, open my damn door!” He walked out wearing his filthy velvet robe and house slippers. Hairy chest and bad cologne was a terrible combination on him. “You think I trust you! You’re almost 4 months behind. No money, no key!” “I’m too blown out of my mind! Give me my damn key please! Can’t we settle this in the morning?!” “No money, no key!” He repeated. “Unless you want to give me something else instead.” He looked at me grabbing his cock. For a brief moment I threw up in my mouth. The thought of Continue reading “I Fucked My Landlord”