You Call Me Crazy

This is the second time you cross my boundary. A line clearly drawn in the sand is now cement. Despite this, it is you who pulls the victim card. I need to calm down. I need to relax. But this constant fight, this constant shield and defense is just that: a defense. What good can come if I defend my personal boundaries, my thoughts, my feelings, while also defending against your actions, your words. Careful not to step to close, tread too light, or I may drown. If I let it slide what is next to slide? Your dick into my DMs? Your tongue into my mouth? Your hand into my skirt? I’m no longer playing victim. I am on the offensive.

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The Powerless Pleasure

You always remember your first. The Cum Dumpster—or “Cummy", as I affectionally refer to him—is my first pay pig. But he is much, much more than a vessel for fluids or a wallet of cash. While I am well versed in the art of humiliation, the financial aspect is a road not taken. Cummy and I have a special relationship. We never intend it to turn out the way it did. In fact, it’s tumultuous from the start.

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I'm Not Touching Your Penis

This is the move I’ve seen a thousand times. He’s knocking, but not entering. Flirting with the boundary, but not violating it. His penis is dangerously close to my vaginal opening. I am now uncomfortable.

“You are not putting that inside of me.” I stop kissing and look him in the eyes. He climbs down from on top of me and lays beside me, stroking my body. Both of our shirts are still on. He continues to tell me how sexy I am, how much he wants to fuck me. I continue to tell him “I know.”

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