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Her Forbidden Forest

When the sun set over the Forbidden Forest, it almost sparkled. The raindrops clinging to the trees, reflecting the last remains of sunshine, made for the perfect illusion of safety. As Timothy stepped forward, the cold lawn crunched beneath his trainers. With his eyes set on the forest, he continued to move forward, every so often glancing behind him to see if any eyes were focused on his movement away from the safety of Hogwarts. After a few moments of walking cautiously, he found himself just at the edge of the wood.

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Posted in Sex

Today,

Today, as I lay in a plank position with a cock shoved halfway down my throat, I couldn’t help but think back to the amount of men I have fucked that have openly told me that men work harder than women in bed. While I agree that men work hard, I must say that I find this statement a bit offensive.

Maybe some women resort to star fishing their way through foreplay and fucking but I pride myself on the ability to be actively present during the entire experience. I’m a giver. I like to suck dick. Sometimes I do it for so long that I can’t breathe. Sometimes I suck so hard that I make myself choke and gag and even go into yawning fits. If this doesn’t directly reflect my work ethic, I don’t know what does. 

We work hard to satisfy you. We let you pull our hair, spank us, and choke us. We literally let you inside of us. We experiment with you. We rim you. Fuck, sometimes we even peg you. To say that men work harder than women in bed is a blatant disregard for the hard work we do to make you happy. Like, I’m not even kidding– once I sucked a dick for an hour and a half because I wanted my partner to cum while I had my period. No breaks. Just a constant onslaught of meaty dick penetrating my tiny mouth. With some determination, a lot of saliva, and some anal play, anything is possible. 

Value your lady. Give her a nice pat on the back after a sex sesh. You may be sweating but there is a good chance she’s glistening too. 

Posted in Poetry, Romance, Sleazykhaleesi

I mourn us

Sometimes late at night,

when everything is quiet and unmoving,

I mourn us.

I look up at the ceiling,

I close my eyes and reflect.

Your mouth.

Your stubble.

Your hands.

You were familiar and unwavering,

like how coffee tastes in the morning.

A pick me up,

sweet and warm with a bit of a bite.

Then I open my eyes.

Remember the ceiling,

return to the the earth.

Do you think about it too?

And as the tears fall down my cheeks,

A drop me down,

sweet and warm with a bit of a bite.

I mourn us.

Posted in Sex

Wet

Today was the day. After months of playful flirting and “innocent” touching, I was finally going to make my move. When he made his appointment, I informed him that I was booked (I wasn’t but he didn’t know that) but that I would be more than willing to see him after hours when he closed. He kindly insisted he would reschedule but I assured him it wouldn’t be an issue.

I rushed my coworkers out of the studio around 8pm citing the cleaners coming in earlier than usual as my excuse. I sat down for a few moments in my chair curling a few loose strands of hair as I waited for the knock at the door.

My stomach was knots. What if he rejected me? What if didn’t feel the same way? Did I read signals the signals wrong?

A knock echoed throughout the studio.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

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