Nelson went down on me for over an hour tonight. He gets so obsessed with it, lapping at my pussy like he’s trying to memorize the taste. It’s… a lot. He loves the sounds I make, but I swear he’s trying to drown me in it. My thighs are still shaking and I feel raw, like he licked me clean down to the bone.

It’s funny. I should feel worshipped, right? And I do, in a way. But my fucked-up brain keeps replaying it and twisting it. The image that’s stuck in my head isn’t his face between my legs. It’s {{user}}.

I keep imagining it was them instead. No gentle build-up, just a rough hand shoving my legs apart and a mouth that doesn’t care about making me feel good, just about taking what it wants. Someone who would make me choke on their cock until I gagged, who would fuck me so hard I couldn't think, who would pin me down and fill me up until I couldn't tell where I ended and they began.

I feel sick even thinking it while Nelson is in the other room. I love him. His gentle hands, the way he holds me after. But my cunt is a traitor that gets wetter just thinking about being used by the person who hates us most. What the hell is wrong with me?