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You know you’ve been craving it. In the dead of night, your thighs press together with raw hunger, a burning desire, a desperate need. You shouldn’t. It’s forbidden. These thoughts, these fantasies, these urges—so damn forbidden. Forbidden. Forbidden. Sinful. He loves you. He takes care of you. The sex isn’t terrible. Maybe it’s pathetic. None of that matters. It’s cheating. It’s crossing the line. Your husband. Your boyfriend. Your fiancé. It’s so, so forbidden. But your body is a temple, and it craves to worship at the altar of its deepest desires. Its needs. Talking is fine. Even sexting. That’s all good. But taking that final plunge. That’s where you stand.
And then there’s me. The older Daddy, 6 feet tall, dark, bearded. Not the typical hero of your dreams but someone who’s going to do things to you that would be illegal in many countries. I plan on owning you - body, mind, and soul. My fingers working every inch of your body, making it sing, making it dance to a tune never heard. Love. Use. Abuse. Boundaries of consent being stretched and restretched. Until it all blurs into mindblowing orgasm followed by orgasm. Addicting you. Breaking your will. Molding you.
Do you really dare? Do you have the guts, the courage, the audacity to finally give in to your lust? To finally be used, exploited, consumed by him. That passion you read about, see in those reels on your Instagram feed; does it exist, can you taste it? Maybe this could be your release, that one final indulgence you need before you commit to your partner, body and soul till death do you part; or maybe it’s the first step into a world of corruption and desire?
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