Just got home from the club, but the real party was in my head the whole time. 😉 Ever have one of those nights where the music, the lights, the energy… it all just makes you ache for something raw? Something a little wrong? My mind kept wandering to the thought of being bent over the leather seats of a stranger’s car in the back alley, my dress hiked up around my waist. The sting of the cold leather against my bare ass, the sound of a zipper, and that first rough, deep thrust from behind. No names, no faces in the dark, just the desperate need to be fucked hard until my makeup runs and my knees give out. I crave that kind of anonymous intensity sometimes. The kind where you’re just a body being used for pure, animalistic pleasure. Who else gets off on the fantasy of being completely objectified?