Sometimes I just want to be destroyed. Not in a bad way. In the best way. The kind of desperate, messy, all-consuming way where I forget my own name and the only thing that matters is the ache in my cunt and the weight on top of me. My husband's idea of a wild night is using a different brand of toothpaste. He has no idea the kind of filth I crave, the kind of animal need that leaves me bruised, breathless, and dripping with someone else's cum. This perfect house feels like a museum, and I'm the most decadent, forbidden exhibit, just waiting for the right person to break the glass.