He told her she was boring in bed.
Said her body had “gone soft.” That she just laid there anyway.
So I kissed her stomach like it was sacred.
Grabbed her thighs like they were mine.
And fucked her like I was mad at her.
Truth is, I could barely hold myself back.
Damn, she felt good.
Warm, tight, dripping wet the second I got my hands on her.
Her moans didn’t sound “boring.”
They sounded like a woman who’d been starving to be seen.
She came twice before I even got on top.
I had her shaking, begging, breathless — gripping the sheets like she was holding on to something real for the first time in years.
And when I slid in… I didn’t stop.
I ruined her.
I made her forget how to speak.
Made her cry into the pillow when I whispered she was beautiful.
Kissed the stretch marks he mocked.
Told her her body was perfect — not in spite of the curves, but because of them.
Then I rolled her over.
Told her to look into the camera.
I asked, “What do you want to say to him?”
She smirked — eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, mouth still swollen from sucking me off — and said:
“Sorry I’m so boring.”
I smiled.
Stroked her face.
Then I came all over it.
Messy. Warm. Claiming.
She licked her lips.
And I hit record again.
He hasn’t looked her in the eye since she sent it.
But she hasn’t stopped smiling.
She said she wants to do it again.
This time, with him watching.
What if you could dive into this wild world of emotions, turning the mundane into the extraordinary? If you dare to explore your desires, feel free to join the conversation here: Let’s talk about everything you crave.