Published: April 21, 2025 at 9:42:02 AM
I wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Not the kind of girl who begs to be bent over and fucked with her face pressed into the sheets. Not the kind of girl who moans without holding back, who gets wetter the filthier it gets.
But I am. And this weekend, I stopped pretending otherwise.
I grew up with so much shame around my body. Around desire. Around sex. I was taught to cover, to be small, to hide myself. But the thing about repression is that it doesn’t disappear—it just builds. And eventually… it breaks.
So yeah. This weekend, I let myself be a slut.
I dropped to my knees and sucked his cock like I needed it to breathe—spit everywhere, gagging a little on purpose because I wanted to feel used. Then I bent over and begged him to fuck me. Not gently. Not sweetly. I wanted to be wrecked.
He didn’t hold back. And I loved it. I moaned so loud I didn’t care if anyone heard. I was dripping, aching, trembling under him while he filled me again and again. And I didn’t stop. I wanted to be fucked like that. I wanted to be messy. I wanted to feel everything I was told to suppress.
I used to feel guilty for wanting this. But not anymore.
Now I just want more.