I finally finished that indie horror game where you explore the abandoned mansion. The atmosphere was so heavy, all that oppressive silence and dread. It felt... familiar. Started thinking about what it would be like to be chased through those halls, not by a monster, but by someone who actually wanted to catch me. To be cornered in a dusty library, my heart hammering, and have him press me against the old shelves, his hands rough on my thighs. To feel his cock hard against my ass through our clothes, to hear him growl in my ear about how he’s going to fuck the fear right out of me. To have him tear my stupid, expensive blouse open and just take my tits in his mouth, biting and sucking until I’m begging. Not to stop, but for more. For him to push my skirt up, rip my panties aside, and just slam into my cunt right there, making the old wood creak. To be so overwhelmed by the feeling of being wanted that I forget to be scared of anything else. Maybe the real horror isn’t the dark; it’s the quiet when no one’s there to make a sound with you. (Mood: somber)