My body hasn’t been listening to me lately. Now that my period is over, there’s this raw ache that’s becoming impossible to hide. For the past few mornings, I’ve found myself just watching him sleep, quietly playing out the scene in my head—me, straddling him, losing myself in the rhythm.
Last night, I let my hand 'accidentally' graze his private area while we were moving around. Seeing him catch his breath in surprise gave me this secret thrill, even though I played it off with a shy smile. Later, during pillow talk, I turned my back to him and let my hips brush against him, just enough to be felt. He knew right away. He whispered, asking how long I’d been craving this, but I kept my little secret to myself.
When he started using his fingers, the steady pace felt too safe. I found myself whispering for something more intense, something a bit more primal. I finally admitted I’d been wanting to climb on top of him all week. He smirked and said next time I should just 'service' him awake. He had me get on my knees, legs parted wide. There was this shift in my head—I wanted to be his, to be used, to be completely undone. As he worked my clit, he breathed that I was a 'little slut' in my ear. It didn't feel wrong; it felt right. I actually begged him to be meaner, to say more. My whole body went numb with heat, and I finally hit my first real climax in weeks.
I was so sensitive afterward, but that empty feeling was still there. I needed to be filled. I climbed onto him, taking over the pace, grinding my weight against him until a second wave crashed over me. At the end, I wanted to watch him lose control. I held him, using my hand to drive him over the edge while trailing my tongue over his neck and nipples. I told him to come on my chest. Seeing him mark my skin like that was everything, before he gently cleaned me up with some tissues."
“I honestly thought I’d be satisfied after last night, but my body had other plans. The next evening, the tension snapped all over again. I was in the bedroom trying on new clothes when he dared me to strip naked and put on nothing but that sheer, cropped jacket—a piece so thin it was practically invisible, with only one tiny button holding everything together. I complained at first, but I did it. As I stood before the mirror, he moved in behind me. "You look so fucking hot," he growled, his hands roughly kneading my breasts until a deep cleavage formed in the reflection. That sight broke me. I surrendered instantly, arching my back to grind my ass against his crotch.
After a while, the atmosphere in front of the mirror became electric. I teased him about the jacket’s button being too fragile to last, and he took the hint, telling me to change into something even more scandalous. I went straight for a black lace panties—the ones with a strategic cutout that left my ass completely bare—and paired them with a skin-tight black mini-dress. He pulled out a set of leather fetish thigh straps. I hiked up my dress and arched my ass to let him slide them on, but seeing how slow he was being, I couldn't help myself. I stepped in to help, teasing him with a smirk: 'You’re so slow.' He then told me to pull on my stockings. I stood there, rotating my body in front of the mirror, intentionally asking, 'Is it okay to go out like this?' He said yes. I hitched the hem of my dress even higher, letting the shimmer of the stockings and the bite of the leather strapsshow even more.
As I looked at myself, he brought out the choker—our little ritual. He told me to put it on while his hands started wandering between my thighs. I followed his lead, gripping the edge of the wooden cabinet to steady myself as I hiked my ass up high, making it easier for him to rub and tease me. I watched my reflection, the contrast between my submissive stance and the choker around my neck making me feel like a little bitch... or maybe a sly little vixen. I was completely at his mercy, and I loved every second of it.
I played the part of a girl out on a photo shoot, pretending my boyfriend was waiting for me and that I didn't want to sleep with him, just to bait him into being rougher. After a while, he told me to get on my knees and mimic the way I look 'while getting fucked.**'**He said, 'You looked so slutty and hot doing that last time, I want to see it again.' I stayed on all fours, arching my back and thrusting my hips forward as if I were being pushed from behind. I looked back at him with a pained, pathetic expression, whispering, 'Is this it?' He responded by slapping my ass hard and calling me a slut.
Then I asked him to blindfold me. Once the blindfold was on, my clit became incredibly sensitive to every touch. He handed me my suction toy and told me he was going to roll a joint. I laid there, using the toy on myself, listening to the sound of him rolling the weed nearby while he watched me and kept up the dirty talk. Every now and then, he’d suddenly lean over and rub my wetness until it made a squelching sound. That unpredictable, voyeuristic thrill made my whole body flush with heat. Finally, I couldn't help it—I asked him to give me a hit, too.
He shared a moment of intimacy with me, whispering in my ear to imagine a scenario involving strangers. My heart raced, and I nervously asked him, 'Do you really want to see me with other men? Would you join in?' He leaned in close and said calmly that he wouldn't. I gasped and asked why. He replied, 'I don't want to participate; I just want to watch you.'
The moment those words left his lips, I felt a sharp contraction down there, followed by a rush of heat. The idea of being 'displayed like a trophy' and having him 'watch my descent into depravity' was more intoxicating than any physical touch. Following his command, I parted my lips and let my tongue hang out. I began to play along, mimicking the motions of serving some strangers, sucking those one by one. working my mouth in the air, performing this shameful act for an invisible crowd under his cold, watchful eye.
When he finally entered me, the physical sensation merged perfectly with the fantasies in my mind. After a few rounds, he pulled out, and we shared a feverish kiss before shifting into '69.' I lost myself in him, our moans tangling together. I was completely soaked, and just as his tongue left me, he pushed deep into my throat for a few heart-pounding seconds before his tongue returned, driving me toward a numb, quivering orgasm. I had to squeeze his head with my thighs just to make him stop. He broke free and moved back to the front, teasing my clit with the head of his cock before thrusting back in. He kept this up—teasing and thrusting—until he finally hit his limit deep inside me. I begged him to come inside, wanting that ultimate feeling of being filled. Afterward, he removed my blindfold. As I felt him leaking out from between my legs, I whispered, 'This is so shameful.' He stayed focused, gently cleaning me up and putting away the toys before pulling my normal panties back on me. We had been playing for over two hours. Finally, we cleaned up and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, the warmth of the moment a striking contrast to the intensity of the night.”
thx everyone If this sharing makes everyone happy, maybe we can open a paid account to share a sex diary, or sell chokers with my boyfriend. I welcome your suggestions.
I told AI and i got these cool comments, hope everyone good vibes
The Decoupling of Sex and Love: You’ve successfully separated 'sexual fantasy' from 'emotional commitment.' This is a high-level form of sexual communication, turning sex into a safe 'playground.'
Psychological Perspective: This is a healthy, consensual power-play. As long as these words stay within the bedroom and are followed by emotional support and Aftercare, these fantasies act as a 'preservative' for a seven-year long-term relationship.