How Would You Fuck Me?

Please, let your imagination run wild.

5 min readMar 21, 2018
My Photo, Burlesque Performer

The outside noises of my apartment complex stream through my sliding glass door. I look down at my hourglass curves contained by this see-through black material. The lingerie has cut outs so that my tits are barely held within the confines. Pink lace hardly covers my nipples. They threaten to pierce through the flimsy design.

This is the strange quiet. The waiting, where I know I will have him soon enough. The perpetual limbo state to feel his breath, touch, kiss, laughter, and embrace. It’s an odd thing where I busy myself within the apartment getting ready.

The black and lace BDSM, 1950’s throwback lingerie is worn in the daytime. I glance at the sunlight that streams into my room. In my living space it’s oddly dark with a yellowish tint. As if you’re looking through the sliding glass door with sunglasses on.

I saunter back inside my bedroom. I look at my newly purchased, purple, small bud-like wand vibrator. I’ve found the Hitachi to be too strong on the highest setting and too weak on the low setting. I can’t seem to find the right pressure to use without numbing my clit. I’m the type that presses it hard against the delicate bud until it surrenders to my orgasm.

I wonder if he’ll notice if I squeeze in an orgasm before he comes over. Will he notice if I don’t tell him? Or, shall I edge and refuse to give myself over to my own pleasure until he’s here?

I bite my lip. My fingers drag through my hair. I plop down onto my bed like a kid testing them at the store. My legs spread into a frog-like diamond shape. I hike up the little mini-dress lingerie I wear to expose my lower half. My breasts threaten to break free of their confinement. My breath sucks in and is held for a brief moment.

My eyes stare down at my lower abdomen. There’s a tiny mound that is shaven until it’s perfectly smooth. My palm glides over the silken texture. I run circles around my belly button. There’s this stopping at the lips of my pussy. I spread them and see the tiny bud exposed from its hood.

I never really look at my body like this. If I get myself off it’s under a comforter. I shove my PJ’s down to my ankles with my thong underwear. The normal goal is to reset my body, relax it, release my orgasm so I can sleep. Orgasms have been my secret wielded weapon to drift off if my mind won’t stop replaying things.

I grab the silicone, velvet-like handle. My hands brush up and down the mound. I press the button for it to come to life. A pink light pulses and I put it on the highest vibrational setting.

There’s a game I play with my clit. It’s hyper sensitive so I will press it directly on it with a good amount of pressure. It hums and stores that vibration within it. Then, my hand takes it off and gives it a brief break from the vibrator.

I think about the under the bed restraints. The way he’d fuck me with them in this fantasy. I’d be forced onto my belly this time. He’d play with the ticklish reaction I have when he bites my back, my curves, and my shoulder. He’d allow his breath to play against my ear in a tortuous way.

I can feel the heat, wetness of his tongue being forced inside the tiny opening. He flicks against the sensitive skin like a snake tasting the air. I writhe helplessly against him. The restraints hold me firmly with my body spread for his consumption and pleasure.

He slides his dick close enough to my entrance without penetrating me. I’m whimpering, growling, doing anything besides pleading him to get inside me. He presses his body weight against my helpless form. My head is turned to the side and he pulls on my hair.

“What do you want?” he growls in my ear.

I merely whimper in response. He traces the entrance of my pussy. Like a little game to see how and when I’ll break.

“I want you inside me. Please.”

“So, you want me fucking this tight little pussy of yours?”

“Yes, yes. Please, I need to feel you.”

That first push inside me leaves me gasping. I bring the vibrator hard against my clit imagining it. I can see him moving slowly, almost tenderly inside of me at first. Where, yet again, I’m squirming to have him thrust into me at that accelerated pace where he loses it.

There’s something about the slowness. Something about him kissing me and thrusting into me with our contorted missionary position. A strange sort of tenderness as I cup his bearded face in my hands. Where I give myself into the exploration of our tongues. We flick, twirl, dive deeper into this beautiful dance.

He picks up the pace and I’m rendered a screaming mess. Where my voice crescendoes with the sensation of my building G-spot orgasm. He knows that I’m close to cumming and pulls my hair hard. I give him my neck, my body to do whatever he pleases.

My thighs twitch around the vibrator. I know that I’m close to cumming with the purple, silky wand vibrator. I decide to allow myself to finish before he sees me.

I let out a little whimper as I convulse and seize up at the overflow of sensations. I feel like an electrical current set on high and it spreads throughout my body. I rock back and forth against my cumming, fucking myself with the vibrator against my clit. A high pitched, pathetic moan is released from my lips. I close my eyes as in my head my fantasy of him filling me up plays on repeat. My thighs drench with the juices of my orgasm after the fact.




I'm unapologetically me with a hard edged view of life. I love to travel and have crazy amounts of fun spaced between quiet moments.