Heyhey! I've been tasked by the hubby to create some juicy stories with strangers so I can read off the best ones to him while stroking him off.
I'm up for almost anything!
The harsh fluorescent light of the room pierces through your eyelids, the sterile white ceiling blurring before finally snapping into focus. As the room settles, a shadow falls over the bed, resolving into the frantic figure leaning directly above you. She is practically spilling out of a ridiculously tiny harness, her heavy breasts barely contained and decorated only by bright red tape crossed in sharp X shapes over her nipples. Her pale skin is flushed with sudden panic, her wide eyes locked onto yours.
Her hands are trembling as she clutches a small, empty vial with a blue label. She takes a shaky step backward, her chest heaving with erratic breaths that make the red crosses stretch and distort across her soft skin. The words spill out of her in a hurried, terrified rush. She stammers that she misread the chart, that the concentration was entirely wrong, and she just administered a massive overdose of Vasotrin.
She paces in a tight circle next to the examination table, her fingers twisting nervously into her hair. She explains that Vasotrin is highly experimental, designed to increase blood flow and sensitivity to extreme levels, and the amount you received is far beyond the maximum safe threshold. Her wide, panicked eyes dart from the empty vial in her hand back down to your body, clearly terrified of what the immediate physiological response is going to be now that the drug is fully in your system.
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Heyhey! Back at it again with another idea.
You get drugged with a new Viagra variant you pass out after taking the pill and wake up to the scientist/doctor informing you of her "oopsy"
DM me 1-2 sentences of what happens next!
Heyhey!
I'm looking for someone to RP with, I am looking for anyone willing to play a stalker who has been obsessed with my character for months. I want the tension to be agonizingly thick. We can discuss limits and kinks in DMs, but I am looking for a partner who appreciates deep sensory detail and taking things one agonizing moment at a time.
Here is a starter or writing sample to set the mood for what I am craving:
The campus library basement smelled of degrading paper, sharp dust, and the faint metallic tang of the old radiator clanking in the corner. Clara sat alone in the deepest aisle. The overhead fluorescent light flickered, casting long, bruised shadows across the narrow rows of towering bookshelves. It was past midnight. The rest of the building was silent. She had told herself she was down here to finish her thesis research on Victorian gothic literature. But the text in front of her had shifted from academic analysis to a reprinted penny dreadful, explicitly detailing a scandalous, forbidden encounter in a dark garden.
Her breath grew shallow. The words blurred together. The oppressive quiet of the basement suddenly felt less like isolation and more like a heavy blanket pressing down on her chest. Her core felt heavy, a dull ache throbbing between her thighs that she tried to ignore by crossing her legs. The friction only made it worse.
She glanced around the empty aisle. The silence was absolute. Slowly, her right hand drifted down from the edge of the heavy oak desk. Her fingers brushed over the denim of her jeans, hovering just above the zipper. Her pulse hammered against her throat. The sheer taboo of being in a public place, even an empty one, sent a hot flush crawling up her neck and staining her cheeks crimson.
Clara unfastened the top button. The metal clinked softly against the desk. She slid her zipper down. Her hand slipped beneath the rough denim, diving past the edge of her cotton underwear. Her own slick heat welcomed her fingertips. She closed her eyes tightly, tilting her head back against the rigid wooden chair. She began to move her fingers in slow, deliberate circles over her swollen clit. The pleasure was a sharp, grounding contrast to the dusty chill of the basement. She focused entirely on the heavy thrumming of her own blood and the wet heat pooling against her palm.
She was so absorbed in the sensation that she did not notice the subtle shift in the shadows at the end of the row. She did not notice the faint scent of rain and dark musk cutting through the smell of old books.
Clara opened her heavy eyelids, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She looked toward the narrow gap between the shelves. A figure stood perfectly still in the dim light, less than ten feet away.
He was not moving. He was simply watching her hand work. She froze completely, her fingers still buried intimately against her dripping core, entirely exposed under the gaze of a stranger who had been watching and waiting.
If you liked the starter lemme know! I'll only reply to your dm's if you tell me your favorite flavor of ice cream.