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I don’t even know what time it is anymore. I’ve been trapped in my room all day, sprawled out, legs wide, hands between my thighs, drowning in my own heat. Every time I think I’ve had enough, I find myself right back here, fingers teasing, hips rolling, chasing that next wave of pleasure like I’m starving for it. And I am starving. No matter how many times I make myself cum, it’s never enough. My body is greedy, aching, desperate for more—more hands, more mouths, more rough, relentless attention that I can’t give myself. I need to be touched, taken, used until I’m completely wrecked and unable to move.
I can feel how swollen I am, how sensitive, how every brush of my fingertips sends a shiver through me that makes me gasp and whimper. My sheets are ruined, my thighs are shaking, and I still can’t stop. It’s like my body won’t let me. It’s begging, pleading for someone to take control and put me in my place—pin me down, stretch me open, own me until I’m too dumb and wrecked to even think.
I don’t want soft. I don’t want gentle. I want to be ruined. I want to be so thoroughly fucked that I forget my own name. I want to be dripping, shaking, begging for more even when I’m too overstimulated to handle it. I want to be claimed, used like the desperate little thing I am. And if I don’t get it soon, I think I just might go insane. Who’s going to take what’s theirs and finally put me in my place?
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- 2 weeks ago
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