u/Babyluvve

...and please, don’t misunderstand me. The flowers are lovely. Put them in water. Take your little pictures. Tell your friends how thoughtful he is. 🌹 There’s nothing wrong with expecting flowers from a man. Your expectations simply aren’t mine.

Some women expect bouquets. I expect reverence. Some want to be swept off their feet. I prefer a man who understands that devotion starts at mine 👣🖤

I don’t measure romance by petals, dinner reservations, or pretty little gestures. I measure it by how willingly a man adores me, how naturally he surrenders to my softness, and how comfortable he is making my pleasure the priority without expecting his own in return.

You want the gentleman. I want the gentleman who knows when it’s time to become my devoted little worshipper. Different women. Different standards 🖤

...and please, don’t misunderstand me. The flowers are lovely. Put them in water. Take your little pictures. Tell your friends how thoughtful he is🌹 There’s nothing wrong with expecting flowers from a man. Your expectations simply aren’t mine.

Some women expect bouquets. I expect reverence. Some want to be swept off their feet. I prefer a man who understands that devotion starts at mine.👣🖤

I don’t measure romance by petals, dinner reservations, or pretty little gestures. I measure it by how willingly a man adores me, how naturally he surrenders to my softness, and how comfortable he is making my pleasure the priority without expecting his own in return.

You want the gentleman. I want the gentleman who knows when it’s time to become my devoted little worshipper. Different women. Different standards 🖤

EVERY black queen deserves a devoted worshiper 👑 Ensure that he's white! They do the job better 😉

What Black women should have by right, by day and night, whenever and wherever.

I suppose that wasn't technically a lie.

He has no idea how dramatic the waiting gets. I've already imagined 3 conversations, 2 reunions, and a fake argument that never happened. The waiting is always worse than the wait was ever supposed to be😭

Well... this seems like the beginning of a terrible life decision.

I fought it. I questioned it. I tried to convince myself it was just another passing interest.

It wasn't.

So here I am, waving the white flag and introducing myself as an aspiring hucow. First post. First step. No idea where this path leads, but I'm curious enough to find out.

Guess I'm home. Moo?? 🐄🤍

Well... this seems like the beginning of a terrible life decision.

I fought it. I questioned it. I tried to convince myself it was just another passing interest.

It wasn't.

So here I am, waving the white flag and introducing myself as an aspiring hucow.

First post.

First step.

No idea where this path leads, but I'm curious enough to find out.

Guess I'm home. Moo?? 🐄🤍

Let me tell you a story about the most wicked, cruel, absolutely diabolical man. Daddy & I are hanging out. He generously gives me permission to use his magic wand. Naturally, I am THRILLED. There is, however, one tiny, microscopic, completely unreasonable rule. I am NOT allowed to cum. Fine. Whatever. I accept my fate. So there I am, edging myself into absolute oblivion while he casually goes about his chores like he hasn't just created the world's most desperate woman. Every time I have to stop and let my body reset after another denied orgasm, he's somewhere peacefully folding laundry or doing dishes. The AUDACITY. Then... while I'm patiently waiting to start another round... This man walks into the room. Not because he's finished. Not because he's coming to help. No. He walks over, takes a PADLOCK out of his pocket like some kind of cartoon villain, unplug the vibrator, put the padlock through the plug so I couldn't plug it into the outlet. WHO DOES THAT?! I'll tell you who does that. Wicked men! I followed this man around the house presenting well-researched arguments as to why he should remove it immediately. Denied. I stood outside the shower negotiating. Denied. I searched the entire house for the key like I was on an episode of National Treasure because, quite frankly, if I had found it, I would've unlocked it without a second thought and accepted whatever punishment came afterward. Future Me could deal with those consequences. Horny Me has absolutely no survival instincts. None. Zero. I would like to formally report Daddy for crimes against humanity.

I love being owned.

Daddy gave me permission to cum and I still chose to wait.

Why??????

Because what he takes from me is infinitely better than anything I could ever give myself. Nothing compares. If it means waiting, I'll wait. It it means edging for days, so be it.

The waiting is what ruins me. Every minute chips away at my resolve until I'm an absolute, needy mess. By then, I'd do just about anything he asked with a smile on my face.

It's almost pathetic how needy I become. I'll rather stay on edge and desperate than settle for anything less.

Being owned isn't just something I enjoy. It's the place where I feel the most undone, the most devoted, and the most his.

Forest etiquette is confusing. I thought he was part of the trail.

Forest etiquette is confusing. I thought he was part of the trail.

​

Princess behavior.

Remember that "live wire" I was talking about? Well... the countdown is almost over. After all that whining about edging and trying not to combust, I finally get to see Daddy this evening. I've been floating through the day with the most ridiculous grin, entirely too smug because I know exactly how my day ends 😌💗

I really should've read the terms and conditions before the hike🥹

I used to be absolutely obsessed with my pu$$y. I've been late for work because I needed to get off real quick before leaving the house. Before bed? Same thing. Those orgasms were great.

Then I met Daddy. 😌

And now I'm annoyed.

.. because the way he makes me lose control of my body is ridiculous. He makes me cum on demand, squirt on demand. The sounds he pulls out of me don't even sound like they're coming from me. He has completely ruined the experience of doing it myself.

So I have basically retired. Not because I can't touch myself, but because what's the point? If I do, I edge. That's it. I make damn sure not to go too far because all my orgasms belong to Daddy now anyway. They're better with him. Which means I'm currently sitting outside, overstimulated by absolutely nothing, trying not to spontaneously combust because edging has turned me into a live wire. My body is throwing a tantrum, my brain is useless, and unfortunately I've become one of those needy girls who would rather suffer than cash in without daddy.

Tragic, really. 😌

The Michelin Guide hasn't found this spot yet.