I don’t like rough sex but I love it. 

I was lying on my back, my head tipped over the side of the bed. He was going to fuck my mouth that way and feel his cock slide into my throat, one straight shot, a tight and wet hole on my face for him to enjoy. 

I’m a blow job girl. Most of the time, I can’t get enough. I love pleasing, the moans, the shaking legs. I love the spit and the gagging. I love the noises. Dear sweet jeebus do I love the noises. 

In blow jobs, I feel like I have control. This time. however, I had none. He’d pinned my hands and thrust into my throat hard and deep. I wasn’t controlling entry. He was. 

I panicked. 

“Take it,” he said, twisting my nipples painfully. I gagged and retched as his cock invaded me, took from me.

That’s when I freaked. The. Fuck. Out.

I kicked my legs and started moaning. Tears flowed from my eyes. I was done, I tell you. DONE.

He let me up, softening his face as I turned my head and coughed up a storm into the sleeve of my jacket. I sucked  back spit and snot. My face was a gooey mess.

Done. I’m so done. I’m so fucking PISSED. Fuck that guy. Fuck him. I don’t need this shit. Fuck this. 

He laid back and invited me into his arms. The choice to cuddle your tormenter is a strange one but there I was, curled in his arms while he gentry stroked my head this time. No more tugging my hair to pain. This time, gentleness. He started talking about normal things and soon enough I calmed. 

I was high as fuck. I soared. In that moment, hearing him tell me stories about an old college buddy while his cock softened, my head spun with the endorphin rush. I had spaced out but was now calming. 

He asked if I wanted more. I said yes. He rolled me over on my stomach, hiked up my skirt, and let his hands began trailing down my ass again. 

Fact is, this guy is the scariest guy I’ve ever fucked. But I wanted that. I want to be afraid of his every move, afraid of each touch. 

Fact is, I’m not sure I would have asked for this kind of sex. I thought I wanted it. Then I got it. Every time I do, I’m a scared, spit-faced mess, a ball of tears, a mixed bag of emotion. 

Yet every time I have it, I soar with an unimaginable high that has me floating on clouds the rest off the day and makes for good jerk-off fodder for a long, long time. 

So, you see, I don’t like rough sex, but I love it. 

Just what it says here, not much more. I love bondage and restraints, but he didn’t use any. I like being hit, but he didn’t hit me. All he had was a naked me, spread eagled, voluntarily submitting to a Hitachi directly on my clit. 

The first game was fear. He kept turning it on high and I’d whimper whether he put it on my clit or not. I hate high. Please, please, no high. 

The first orgasm was sweet relief followed by instant pain. It hurt. Motherfucker, did it hurt. But he didn’t stop. It remained right where it was, little, nubby Hitachi ball making directly contact with the swollen flesh of my clit. 

It felt like burning, like someone lit my pelvis on fire. It traveled up to my brain and consumed everything. It felt like pleasure gone very, very wrong. I screamed bloody murder and almost wished somebody next door would call the cops. Maybe that would stop the torment. 

Number two didn’t feel good, just a slight bit of relief before excrutiating pain. 

“Is your clit getting numb?” he asked after orgasm three. Quite the contrary. It was getting more and more sensitive. Each post-orgasmic period was more hellish than the last. I had tears running out of my eyes onto the pillow underenath me. I soaked the sheets with sweat. 

Number four. I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt too much. 

“Sto…” was all I could get out, over and over again. I never said stop. I never used a safeword. I only said what I had the capacity to say. 

“Did you say stop?” he asked. The Hitachi did not move. 

“Yes, stop,” I managed, my hands waving erratically, grasping only at air and the flesh of my stomach. 

“Stop what?” 

…that motherfucker. 

“Please stop the vibrator.” 

And then it was off. Eventually, I could speak again. 

I want to be your cuckcake. I want to be the girl that fucks your man while you look on, pathetic and ignored. 

I want you to watch as he worships my big, bouncing ass and licks my pussy. I bet he hasn’t licked your pussy in ages, has he? 

I want you to watch as he makes me cum, over and over again. I can’t wait until he cums on my tits or on my ass so he can make you lick it all up for me. If you miss a spot, I’m sure your man will lend me your most expensive lingerie to wipe myself, like a proper lady deserves. 

Okay, you guys, this is fantasy. But I seriously want this to happen. I can only imagine the dreams I can make come true just because I like being a mean, sadistic bitch and am good at it. 

I derive a lot of pleasure knowing I made dreams come true. So maybe I just need to post an ad about this already…

I’m not there yet but I’m nearing 1,000 followers. 

I should celebrate when I get there. Ideas and suggestions appreciated. 

I love you fuckers so damn much. I’m also way high right now. 

Mwah!

I hate it when he slaps my face. 

I always get defensive when this happens. I want to throw up my own hands in defense. Sometimes I do as a reflex. 

That’s why I like it when he pins or ties up my arms first. 

He won’t slap me until I ask, though. He knows I fucking hate that. He knows how much I hate having to grovel and beg for my own destruction, the kind of pain and humiliation I hate but that makes me cum so hard. 

“Please slap my face,” I said, already teased and soaking wet. 

“You want me to slap your face, you slut?” he asked. I nodded. 

He pulled his fingers out of my cunt and began wiping the wetness all over my face, paying close attention to my nose so I could smell myself. Then he slapped me.

It was soft at first. Then harder and harder, all the while wiping his fingers all over my face. His other hand pinched my nipples painfully. 

“Is that what you wanted, slut?” He asked. His fingers returned to my cunt and I moaned a “yes” loudly. 

He began fingering me, knowing that the slaps, the humiliation of my own cunt being smeared across my pretty face, made me close. I was close. I could feel the tingling in my cunt because I knew a big one was coming on. 

He kept fingering, his speed never wavering. Closer. Closer. Closer. 

I could feel it starting to tip over. He stopped. No more contact, just the agony of my orgasm slipping away from me, ruined. It would have been a big one. He’d been teasing me for what seemed like an hour. I could be clenching and writhing in a big, satisfying orgasm. 

No. I felt it fade a way and I screamed in agony. A little tear escaped my eye. He clamped the cunt hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t wake the neighbors. 

“Are you frustrated now, slut?” he said and pinched my nipple again. 

I am face down. My head is being forced further and further into the bed. My mouth is parted and I can feel the texture of the sheets on my lips. I try not to drool but this is inevitable.

“Are you ready??” he asks, his cock resting against the tight opening of my ass.

“Yes,” I reply through squished cheeks. He pushes in. His cock slides deeply in my ass, deeper than I expected. I gasp in surprise and fear. What if he thrusts too hard? What if it hurts?

It doesn’t hurt and I’m a little surprised. Part of me kind of wants it to. Part of me wants to suffer. 

He has not touched my clit or my pussy. He said, through an evil smile, that he wouldn’t. He touched my tits a little, sucked and bit my nipples. He helped me worked my favorite butt plug into my ass, stretching myself to accommodate him. 

He teased. He slid his fingers up my thigh, down my stomach, fingertips inches away from my clit waiting to be touched. He didn’t. 

Now his cock is deeply in my ass and he’s thrusting into me, each stroke deep and deliberate. 

“You like it when I fuck your ass you filthy slut?” he asks. I scream in affirmation. 

Yes! I’m a butt slut! Fuck my ass hard!

I wasn’t supposed to cum. I was supposed to leave this experience wet and needy, for he wasn’t going to touch my cunt, even if I begged. I wasn’t allowed to touch my cunt, either. 

I feel it come on. It grips me, starting with the tingles in my head. I feel the orgasm starting, about to consume me. Soon, I explode. My throat strains to scream as loudly as I force it to. My ass rhythmically grips his cock as I cum in great big waves. 

It seems like it only takes a moment. How long has his cock been thrusting into my ass? Five minutes? Ten? 

He shoots his cum deep into my ass and rolls off me. I peel my face off the sheets. I’m dripping in sweat. 

And now I know. I can cum from just a dick in my ass. I bet I’ll be getting fucked in the ass a lot more now. 

There are the light, cute sides of my sexuality that damn near anyone can know. I have a cute Fetlife profile out there where anyone kinky can find me, find my face, find out that I’m into cute, kinky things: bondage! Spanking! Anal sex!

Isn’t it always cute and adorable when girls like to be tied up and take it up the ass???

The more I think about it, though, the more I realize how I’m not giving voice to the dark part, even though it is supposed to be a world full of perverts just like me. And yet here I am, thinking the other pervs will judge me. Why? Just because I want to be treated like a useless fuckpig? 

Yes, feminism is important and I want to discuss this at great length. I also want to be spit on and called dumb for being a woman. 

Yes, all bodies are beautiful and I’m not defined by my beauty (or lack thereof). I also want to be called a fat, disgusting pig. 

Yes, all women should have free agency regarding their sexual choices and their value is not determined by sexual experience. I also want to be shamed for being a slut and mocked for my choices. 

I’m so attuned to the fact that the things that make me wet aren’t socially acceptable. Perhaps that’s why I try so hard to bury them rather than just let them out in a healthy way. 

Still, what I desire can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Your kink is not my kink and all that. But I still desire it and feel I will not be harmed by it. So why is it still so closely guarded?