Slipped into something silky and spent the last hour just… touching myself. 🤫 There’s something so fucking intense about getting off when your mind is somewhere else. Feeling my fingers work my pussy, but my thoughts were wrapped around the memory of a thick, veiny cock pressing against me through sweatpants. The sheer weight of it. The promise of being split open. My boyfriend was asleep in the next room, and I came so hard I had to bite my lip bloody to stay quiet. The guilt tastes like copper, but the need tastes sweeter. I love him… I do. But my body craves what his can’t give me anymore. And sometimes, I just stop fighting it.