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Strangers used me in the dark and it was everything I could imagine. I signed the waiver.
No names. No faces. No safe words. Just silence, shadow, and surrender. The room was pitch black—so dark it swallowed even my thoughts. I stood still, completely naked, every inch of my skin tingling with anticipation. My heart pounded against my ribs, a deep, echoing thud that filled the space louder than any scream might have. I waited, trembling, vulnerable. Ready.

Then the first hand found me—rough and calloused, gripping my hip like it belonged there. Then another. And another. Fingers traced down my spine, palms cupped my breasts, mouths found my neck. Gasping as one hand closed around my throat—not tight, just a reminder: I wasn’t in control anymore.

I didn’t know how many they were. I couldn’t see a thing. But I felt everything. Someone shoved me down to my knees. A cock pressed against my lips, demanding. I opened without hesitation, letting him in, tongue swirling, throat relaxing. He groaned low, primal. My mouth was used—gagging, choking—while hands pulled my ass up. Someone entered me from behind, thick and relentless. There was no warning. No introduction. Just raw, unapologetic Continue reading “Strangers Used Me in the Dark”

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I was used in the back of the limo. He told me not to wear panties to the gala. I obeyed. All night, I played the part—smiling, sipping champagne, talking politics—while he kept one hand on my lower back and whispered what he was going to do to me. I couldn’t resist but I kept my composure. I was not going to break character.

Everyone watched us like we were royalty. No one knew how filthy I was underneath that gown. When the driver opened the back door of the limo, I slid in first. My dress rose up to my hips. He didn’t wait. He followed, shut the divider, and dragged me onto his lap like I was nothing but his toy. “I’ve been patient all night,” he growled. “Now open your mouth.” He unzipped himself. I dropped to the floor. The driver was still up front. The thrill? Insane.

He used me fast and rough, gripping my hair, face-fucking me while the city lights flickered past. Then he pulled me up, bent me over the seat, and shoved into me from behind, one hand choking me, the other pressing my face to the window. People Continue reading “Used in the Back of the Limo”

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Three mouths. Six hands. One night I will never forget. I’d fantasized about it before—more than one man, all eyes on me, all hands on me. But fantasies never prepared me for the real thing. It started with a game. A private party, low lights, drinks flowing, and tension so thick I could taste it. Two of them—tall, muscular, eyes full of hunger. Friends. Teammates. Alphas. And they both wanted me.

I didn’t pick. Didn’t have to. So I looked at both of them, crossed my legs slowly, and whispered, “If you want me, come take me.” And just like that, the night changed. We didn’t make it to the bedroom. They pinned me against the living room wall like I was their shared secret. One kissed me deep and rough while the other dropped to his knees, tugging my panties down and spreading me open with his tongue.

My knees buckled. I moaned into the kiss, one hand tangled in hair, the other gripping shoulders. Every inch of my body was touched hands sliding over my breasts, mouths worshiping every curve. When they carried me to the couch, I was dripping. Begging.

One of them took Continue reading “Three Mouths. Six Hands.”

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The way he begs for me is better than any orgasm. It starts with a look. That hungry, needy stare he gets when I walk into the room wearing nothing but a robe and a smirk. He’s already hard before I even speak. I love that about him—how my presence alone is enough to make him squirm.

“Sit,” I say, and he obeys immediately, settling on the edge of the bed with wide eyes and parted lips.I step in front of him, slowly opening my robe. He inhales sharply, gaze locked on my bare skin, hands clenched at his sides like he’s afraid to touch. He knows better. I haven’t given him permission.

“You want it, don’t you?” I ask, teasing my nipples with my fingers, dragging one hand down my stomach. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please.”  That’s my favorite part. Not the touching. Not even the orgasm. It’s the begging. I live for that whimper in his voice, the tremble in his thighs as he pleads. When he’s on his knees, tongue out, eyes wide and desperate—there’s nothing sexier.

I slide my panties down slowly, watching him watch me. I can see how badly he wants to Continue reading “The Way He Begs for Me Is Better Than Any Orgasm”

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I didn’t think I had any kinks…until he brought them all out of me. When we first got together, I thought I was pretty vanilla. Sex was good—but it was routine. Safe. Then he started testing boundaries. It began with a blindfold. Then ropes. Then something called a Wartenberg wheel that made me shiver in ways I didn’t know were possible.

“You’re more open than you think,” he whispered, tracing the cool metal over my nipples. He was right. Because once I gave in, I couldn’t stop. We explored everything. Wax dripped onto my thighs while I was gagged and tied to the bed, vibrating toys pressed to my soaked clit until I was begging. He had me try on latex. Fishnets. Collars. At first, I laughed. But then I looked in the mirror—makeup smudged, skin flushed, legs spread wide—and I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. I saw someone wild. Free. And dripping with filth.

We experimented with impact play. Feet. Roleplay. Choking. Public teasing. I started texting him during work, asking what toy to wear under my clothes. One night, he whispered, “Try the plug tonight. I want you warm and stretched before I get home.” Continue reading “I Didn’t Think I Had Any Kinks…Until….”

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He tried to humiliate me! He thought he was funny. We were out with friends when he made the comment. Loud enough for everyone to hear. “She acts tough, but she’s really just a pillow princess!” The room laughed. My cheeks burned. But not from shame. No, what I felt was a different kind of heat. Because I already knew how I was going to make him pay.

When we got home, I didn’t speak. I took control—grabbed his collar, shoved him onto the bed, and straddled him. “Take off your clothes,” I said coldly. “All of them.” He looked surprised. Nervous. I didn’t wait—I ripped his shirt open, yanked his pants off, and tied his wrists to the headboard with my belt.

“You embarrassed me,” I whispered, lips grazing his ear. “Now I’m going to show you what real power looks like.” I teased him until he was moaning, pleading, straining against the restraints. Then I stopped. Completely. “You don’t deserve to cum yet,” I said, slipping on a strap and stroking it against his inner thigh. “But I do!”

I used him. Sat on his face, thighs tight around his head, grinding until I came hard

Continue reading “He Tried to Humiliate Me!”

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There’s something about the way a woman moves. Her energy pulled me in. Not just her hips, or her lips, but the way she exists. The way her presence enters a room before she even speaks. It’s in the air she fills with a quiet confidence, an undeniable magnetism that calls you to notice. I used to tell myself it was admiration—just a girl crush, a passing fascination. But the truth was deeper, hotter, quieter. It was the lingering stares that stretched for seconds too long. The flutter in my chest every time she laughed or caught my gaze. The craving to taste her laughter on my tongue. To learn the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Being attracted to women isn’t just about sex—it’s about energy. A slow burn that builds over time, unnoticed at first, until it becomes all-consuming. It’s the way she carries herself, how her every movement seems intentional yet effortless. A slight tilt of her head. The curve of her neck. Her fingertips tracing a line on her skin that makes you ache to be the one to touch her.

I felt it in every conversation we had. That unspoken connection. She didn’t just talk to me—she Continue reading “Her Energy Pulled Me In”

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I let some random guys drain their balls by running a train on me last night at my party. They fucked this sweet black twat so good. There were so many different cocks in all my fuck holes. Big cocks, small ones, some guy even had a curve. I felt like I was a filthy whore serving my life’s purpose.

On my knees deep throating and gagging on hard wood. Getting hardcore fucked doggy style and missionary. Having my asshole creampied like I’m a dirty cum dumpster. The guys were lucky to be fucking a cunt like me. This chocolate box was the life of the party. “Fuck that pussy was so good man!” I dropped my load off in the bitch.”

I could hear a few of the guys chatting in the background while I’m still getting fucked by the last bit of guys. It made me smile because I knew I was getting the job done. I always wanted to be a part of a gangbang but never had the courage to do so. So I went the traditional way. I threw a party and invited only guys. Haha! Leave it up to a slut like me to think Continue reading “Ball Draining on a Train”

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I sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, watching my cuckold hubby kneel in front of me. His lips were slightly open, his eyes locked onto the creamy white mess dripping between my thighs. He knew what I expected of him. What his role was and what I had made him into. I ran my fingers through his hair, yanking just enough to make him whimper. “You see that?” I murmured, opening my legs and tilting my hips slightly forward, letting another drop spill onto my inner thigh.

“This is what a real man leaves behind!!” His breath skipped a beat, his hands were twitching at his sides, but he knew better than to touch me. That wasn’t his privilege anymore. That belonged to the other guy. The man who had just left me shaking, orgasmic and satisfied in a way my husband never could.
I traced a finger through the sticky evidence of my pleasure, bringing it to my lips and sucking it clean, watching the way his eyes darkened with need for taste. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I teased. “To be my little clean-up slave toy? To know that he got what you Continue reading “My Cuckold Hubby”

~~~Olivia ~~~ 844~332~2639~x~226~~~

Watching students fuck! As I sat for the students to paint I looked around the room.  One of the ways I am able to sit as long as needed is to play a game with myself.  Wondering how the tall lanky guy painting in the back looks without his shirt, or the overweight housewife standing nearer to me.  At some point, I start to wonder how they would be together.  Seeing her down on her knees sucking his cock while he paints or him fucking her from behind as she mixes the paint colors.  I sometimes try to pick out the moaners and screamers; deciding which one would spaz out when having their orgasm or climax.  Some of them look so stiff I find it hard to imagine they get off at all much less scream.    Continue reading “Watching Students Fuck”