Consumed by You

I love talking to you. The sound of your voice alone sends shivers racing down my spine, even when we’re miles apart. Every conversation feels like foreplay — the way you tease me with your words, the low timbre of your laugh, the way you say my name like it’s something sacred. I find myself daydreaming about you at the most unexpected moments, my body growing warm and restless just thinking about your touch.

I crave the softness of your skin beneath my fingertips, the heat of your body pressed against mine, the way your breath catches when I get close. Right now, just imagining your hands on me makes my heart skip wildly, my pulse thundering in my ears. I want you so desperately it aches. I need you to explore every inch of my body the way only you can — slowly, hungrily, worshiping me with your hands, your mouth, and your eyes until I’m trembling and completely undone.

I want to wrap my legs tightly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s nothing between us but heat and desire. I lean in and catch your lower lip between my teeth, giving it a playful bite before soothing it with a deep, passionate kiss. My tongue traces a hot, wet path up the side of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, feeling your pulse jump under my lips.

I suck gently on your earlobe, then whisper filthy little promises into your ear, my breath hot against you. “Tell me,” I murmur, voice husky with need. “Tell me how much you need me. Tell me how long you’ve been hard thinking about fucking me. I want to hear every dirty thought you’ve had about me.”

You push me up against the wall with that perfect blend of strength and hunger, your body pinning me there. I can feel your hardness pressing insistently against my thigh, thick and throbbing, making me ache with anticipation. Your hands are everywhere — sliding under my shirt to cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardening nipples, then gripping my hips and squeezing my ass as you grind against me.

The friction makes me gasp and moan, my body arching into yours. I can feel how wet I already am, my panties soaked just from your touch. Our mouths crash together again, tongues dancing, breaths mingling as the temperature between us rises higher and higher.

You lift me effortlessly and carry me to the bedroom, our lips never parting. You lay me down on the soft sheets and climb on top of me, your weight pressing me into the mattress in the most delicious way. Or maybe I push you down first, straddling your hips, my hair falling around us like a curtain as I look into your eyes and slowly rock against your cock.

I want to feel you everywhere — your hands roaming my body, your mouth on my neck, my breasts, sucking and biting just hard enough to make me whimper. Your fingers slip between my thighs, stroking my slick folds, circling my swollen clit until my hips are bucking desperately and I’m moaning your name like a prayer.

When you finally push inside me, stretching me open with that perfect, full feeling, I cry out in pure ecstasy. “Yes… fuck, you feel so good,” I gasp. Each deep thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing through me. I dig my nails into your back, raking them down as you move faster, harder. “Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.”

I wrap my legs around you again, heels digging into your lower back, urging you deeper. I want to hear you groan about how tight and wet I am, how perfectly I squeeze around your cock, how badly you’ve needed this. Your hips snap against mine, the wet sound of our bodies meeting filling the room along with my breathless cries.

You flip me over onto my stomach, hands gripping my hips and pulling my ass up toward you. With one powerful thrust you bury yourself completely inside me. I scream into the pillow as the new angle hits that perfect spot over and over. You take me hard, your body slamming against mine with raw strength, one hand fisting my hair, the other holding my waist so I can’t escape the overwhelming pleasure.

Orgasm after orgasm rips through me — my body shaking, my pussy clenching rhythmically around you, soaking your cock and the sheets beneath us. I’m a trembling, moaning mess, but you don’t stop. You keep driving into me, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure until I can barely breathe.

I turn to face you again, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. My hand slides down between us, wrapping around your slick cock, stroking you slowly while I whisper how much I love feeling you inside me. I want to taste you. I push you onto your back and crawl between your legs, taking you into my mouth.

My tongue swirls around the head, teasing the sensitive underside before I suck you deeper, hollowing my cheeks and taking you as far as I can. I love the way you groan my name, the way your fingers thread through my hair as I worship you with my mouth.

Then you pull me up and slide into me again, this time slow and deep, our bodies moving together in a sensual rhythm. Every thrust is deliberate, every kiss filled with passion. I feel you everywhere — your breath on my neck, your hands gripping my thighs, your cock stretching and filling me so perfectly it feels like we were made for each other. I ride you slowly, grinding my hips in circles, savoring every inch of you before we both lose control again and fuck harder, faster, chasing that edge together.

I love you so much it consumes every part of me. In these moments, the world disappears. There’s only us — tangled limbs, heated skin, racing hearts, and overwhelming pleasure. I need you to make love to me like this for hours — hard and rough one moment, slow and tender the next. I want to feel you come deep inside me, your body shuddering against mine as we both fall over the edge together.

Afterward, hold me close in your arms. Let me rest my head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat slow down while your fingers gently trace patterns on my back. Whisper how beautiful I am, how perfect we are together. Because with you, I never want this feeling to end. I’m yours — completely, utterly, and always. Make love to me, baby. Take everything I have to give… and give me all of you in return.

Daddy Violates Forbidden Virgin

Thirty Six, a daddy dom with firm control over good things,

Neighbor to her father—friendly nods, nothing more. 

Her eighteenth birthday: first time I laid eyes on her. 

Camera in hand, snapping party shots, She wore a tight deep-neck top, 

cleavage teasing, Paired with simple shorts—innocent enough for the crowd. 

But her gaze locked on mine, sub by nature, 

Flirty smiles and poses that screamed unspoken need.

Next day, she came over to see the photos, 

In jeans and a casual tee, brushing close on the couch, 

Fingers lingering, flirting bold—testing my resolve. 

Then parents left town, the house next door silent. 

Doorbell rang: there she stood, transformed— 

Tiny mini skirt barely covering her thighs, 

Thong peeking with every shift, 

Tight deep-neck top plunging low, breasts straining.

"Hey Hey Heyyy," she whispered, 

stepping inside, voice trembling,

"Parents are out of town, i am home alone, 

So i wanted some company" She said

She had this pleading puppy eyes.

"What?" I asked 

"You know this, you know me and you know what i need"

Please fuck me. Use me. Breed your little girl."

I stepped back, denial sharp:

"No, baby—this is wrong. 

I'm twice your age, Your father trusts me. 

We're neighbors; this could ruin everything."

"Daddy, I am Ovulating. Horny AF" she whispered

She bit her lip, eyes pleading, sub instincts on fire:

"But I'm eighteen now, legal and aching for you.

I've wanted this since I saw you at the party.

Be my first, Daddy—I've saved my virginity 

just for someone like you."

I gripped the doorframe, reasoning through the storm:

"It's forbidden, little one. 

One step inside my world

And there's no going back—secrets, lies, 

the risk of getting caught.

Your dad could hate me forever;

 this affair would burn us both."

She pressed against me, hands sliding up my chest:

"I don't care, Daddy. 

I need your control, 

your cock deep inside.

Deny everyone else—

just take me, breed me, own me."

My resolve shattered. 

I pulled her in, door slamming shut.

"Good girl," I growled, 

"but from now on, you obey Daddy completely."

I claimed her virginity on the living-room rug, 

Mini skirt flipped up, thong torn aside. 

She was dripping, impossibly tight, gasping as I stretched her slow—

 

"Daddy, it hurts so good—harder, please!" 

I thrust deep, relentless, breeding her exactly as she begged, 

Her submissive cries echoing: 

"Fill me, Daddy—make me yours!"

Every day after, she showed up in those tiny skirts, 

Thong flashing, top barely containing her 

We fucked everywhere: 

shower, kitchen, my bed. 

Mornings bent over the counter, 

afternoons riding me raw, 

Nights with her tied and begging for another load.

When her parents returned, 

the mini skirts stayed hidden, 

But the texts kept coming: 

Need you, Daddy. Door's unlocked.

The count of late night fucks while her parents were asleep downstairs

UN-FUCKING-COUNTABLE

Our forbidden affair burns hotter than ever—

My perfect little sub, forever marked as mine.

Afterglow to Absolute Ache

We parted without ceremony

No Grand Goodbye,

Just a last look that 

said this isn’t over,

And a kiss that lingered 

longer than it should have.

You disappeared into daylight,

into obligations, into walls 

that weren’t mine to cross.

Hotel lobby had a note

"Loud room all night, keep it low"

I ignored, the pleasure 

Overshadowed my thoughts

It felt like a compliment

I walked the city alone,

streets loud, alive, careless—

but every corner carried echos from last night.

I could feel my balls empty and drained

You texted me in fragments—

little sparks tossed into the afternoon.

Which was fun.

Still feeling the night.
Can’t stop thinking 

about all the Chaos.

Sexual tension building, 

I’m trying to behave.

You told me about family filling your space,

voices too close, walls too thin,

desire folded neatly and locked away.

But want doesn’t disappear—

it only sharpens when denied.

I answered slowly, deliberately.

Not to tease—to remind.

That what I’d claimed 

didn’t vanish with distance.

That even apart, 

you still carried me

between breaths,

between thoughts,

between your thighs.

when you shifted and sighed.

Daddy knows

I explored the city by day,

but returned to the room by night—

that borrowed space that still smelled faintly of us.

The bed remembered.

The sheets held shape.

Even the silence felt charged,

as if waiting for permission to break.

We didn’t meet again that night.

We didn’t touch.

We didn’t finish

what our bodies begged for.

And somehow, that restraint—

that ache stretched thin and humming—

made everything

darker,

deeper,

more inevitable.

She wrote before sleep:

Tonight will be hard.

I replied:

No worries.

Because desire like ours

doesn’t fade when starved—

it ferments.

It grows teeth.

It waits.

And when we collide again,

the city won’t save us.

New Day in Québec

The day belonged to wandering.

Old streets, stone and history,

French words curling through the air

like flirtation you don’t stop.

I moved through Québec 

like a bad thought—

eyes catching on bare legs,

soft dresses, careless cleavage,

sunlit temptation everywhere.

Beautiful women everywhere,

laughing, swaying, unaware

they were feeding a hunger

already sharpened by you.

I behaved. Mostly.

ohh no, two pretty girls

did flirt with me in the streets

They were in the funicular

They wanted pictures, i helped.

pretty girls but they had very sexy poses

We sparked a good chat and so on

They were just wearing a thong

under their see through thin dresses

Seamless butt and cracks shaped by the dress

They didn't care when i peaked

At their braless sweaty cleavage

They were spreading their legs because

the hot weather was making their thighs wet

I would have peeled their panties

In a flash and sniffed them wet pussies

And, made them follow me into an alley

Daddy Dom was dirty dreaming

Nothing much was about to happen

but they got me very tempted.

By afternoon, the ache returned—

low, steady, familiar.

The kind that hums under the skin

and refuses to be ignored.

My filthy mind

Definitely wanna fuck tonight

Then my phone vibrated.

My slut's name. Perfect timing.

Are you gonna come tonight Daddy?

I smiled. I knew that tone.

The sweetness hiding heat.

The question already soaked in want.

Maybe, I answered.

If you’re a good girl tonight.

The pause before your reply

said everything.

You weren’t behaving.

You were imagining.

When I reached the hotel,

dusk settling in, bags half packed.

The room already preparing to forget me,

your message arrived like a summons.

Come to my place at Ten, Daddy.

She never booty calls, Daddy was special

Simple. Obedient. Too obedient.

I gave instructions anyway—

soft, deliberate, unmistakable.

What to wear - A mini skirt & thong

How to wait - Kneeling down

How to greet me - With Drinks

You said YES

But brats always say yes

right before they test you.

By ten, I was dressed in full black and intention,

the city humming beneath the tires

as the car carried me back toward you.

Every red light stretched.

Every turn tightened the coil.

I didn’t know what waited behind your door—

obedience or defiance,

submission or surprise—

only that whatever version of you appeared,

I would handle it.

Because control isn’t about certainty.

It’s about knowing

that when the door opens,

everything that follows

belongs to me.

Just belongs to only Daddy!

Room 805: Two Sinners & Thousand Moans

The streets still hummed with midnight breath,

while her body trembled at each step.

Toy buzzing deep, her legs unsteady,

dirty kisses on corners — reckless, messy, heavy.

A forbidden affair in a foreign night,
two strangers burning in the city lights.
I pulled her close, her moans half-bitten,
hoping no passerby caught us smitten.

The hotel door sighed — 805.
A room where desire would come alive.
Small, cozy, dark at 2 a.m.,
walls ready to hold our sin within them.

We crashed onto the bed with feral heat,
her denim tugged down, her body laid sweet.
Black satin thong, lace bra still tight,
the toy humming inside — dripping delight.

She spread for me, shameless, obscene,
legs glistening, wet, satin sheen.
Her gusset stained creamy, white with her lust,
I leaned down, inhaled her scent, raw and just.

I kissed her lips, then slid my tongue,
made her taste herself where the mess had clung.
Her eyes screamed silent, “Fuck me, Daddy—”
but I withheld, I made her wait, made her needy.

From the bag, a new sin gleamed,
a thick long nude dildo, vibrating, mean.
Lubed, alive, I shoved it deep,
her thong strapped tight, its prison to keep.

few minutes into fucking.....

The bed shook as she lost her mind,
her body convulsing, her voice unrefined.
Moans turned screams, then screams to cries,
while passion poured between her thighs.

I kissed her skin, I owned her breath,
her cunt was quaking itself to death.
Neighbors could hear, at 3 a.m.,
her voice a hymn, a primal anthem.

Orgasm after orgasm, wave on wave,
her slutty body — the gift I enslaved.
Eyes rolled back, trembling, drained,
a slut undone, her soul unchained.

I held her after, sweat still raw,
her body twitching, her pussy sore.
I wanted more, to pound her through dawn,
but she was wrecked, used, fully withdrawn.

So I saved my hunger, my cock’s true claim,
for the morning light — to start again.
Because she is mine, slutty, divine,
and only Daddy could break her spine.

Finally, the toys pulled free,
black lace gone, thong released.
Clothes in a pile on the hotel floor,
our bodies bare, craving more.

Two naked skins under one thick sheet,
sweat still fresh, her heartbeat beneath.
My hard cock pressed against her spine,
her butt crack cradling the length of mine.

I wrapped her up, my arm on her waist,
our scents mingled, a sinful taste.
She whimpered softly, half-asleep,
wrecked and wrecking, mine to keep.

The city’s noise faded, our breathing slow,
moonlight cut lines across her glow.
We drifted down, tangled, spent,
the night’s destruction now silent, spent.

A few hours’ sleep before morning light,
her body still twitching from the night.
Because in 805, under sheets that reeked of sin,
we slept as strangers who’d already been within.

Cuddled tight,
she turns, whispers in the dark—
a vow no saint would dare to bless:
“Daddy… wake me whenever you want.
Wake me to fuck me. I’m yours.”

And with that promise,
I close my eyes,
knowing the night isn’t finished—
it’s only waiting for dawn
to demand more sin.

Ruined in the Rhythm

Almost midnight,

Saturday spilling into sin,

and there she is—

stepping out of a taxi,

jeans hugging her curves,

black bodysuit painted 

tight against her skin.

I know what’s hidden beneath:

lace bra, satin thong i got her,

and inside her—

my secret hum,

my toy, my control.

The night air is cold,
but the heat between us
ignites the moment she smiles.
I pull her close,
kiss her mouth,
her lips already wet with promise.
She laughs softly,
“Daddy…”
and just like that,
my night is set on fire.

We duck into the taco shop,
the neon buzzing above us,
the world spinning slower
while we order plates of midnight hunger.

Tacos, Carnitas, Salsa, Horchata
hot sauce dripping down fingers.
But the real spice
is in the way her thigh brushes mine,
dirty talk and forbidden conversations

how her hand slides to my knee,
her lips curling as she whispers,
“Wait until later.”

We eat, we flirt,
we touch under the table,
her body pressed close,
my hand teasing the waistband of her jeans,
knowing she’s already soaked.
Her laughter is reckless,
her eyes a dare,
her mouth a sin.
Every bite of food
is a countdown
to the chaos we’re walking toward.

Outside again—

midnight wind cutting sharp,
but her body is a furnace.
She presses into me,
a hug too tight to be innocent,
pheromones wrapping around my senses.

Her whisper curls against my ear:
“It’s your turn, Daddy.”
And into my palm
she slips the remote.

Ten minutes to the club.
Ten minutes of her body jerking,
limping, giggling in gasps,
moaning into the dark.

Every press of my thumb
sends her stumbling into me,
her breath ragged,
her eyes glazed with ache.
Strangers walk past us,
but we are invisible,
just another couple in the city night—
if only they knew
she was breaking with every step.

By the time the music thumps

from the club’s glowing entrance,
she’s trembling, clutching me,
her lips desperate against mine.
We wait in line,
her body pressed tight,
her perfume mixing with sweat and lust.

I flick the toy to full throttle—
and she shatters.
A muffled cry,
her face buried against my chest,
her arms locking around me.

Not the cold—no,
this trembling is heat, pleasure,
her first orgasm of Sunday,
midnight’s dirty gift.
She breathes me in,
moans against my neck,
a shaking slut waiting
for the doors to open,
for the night to swallow us whole.

We shove through the door

and the room swallows us—

black bodies, neon flashes, 

bass that thumps like a pulse in the planet.

Crowded, warm, sticky with sweat and want,

lights slicing the dark into electric kisses.

I grab two gin & tonics, hand one to her, 

watch her take it like a dare.

Then we move—closer, 

deeper—into the crush.

She starts to dance for me first: 

slow, dangerous, hips working the rhythm,

a tease that says she’s mine and she knows it.

Her bodysuit clings, her jeans gone, 

the satin thong a secret under skin;

she grinds, she bends, 

she presses that wet cunt into me,

riding my bulge through fabric 

like a private confession.

Hands roam—mine claim everywhere: 

hips, the dip of her waist, 

firming the meat of her ass,

palming breast, 

thumbs circling nipples over lace, 

neck kissed and marked.

Every squeeze says the same thing: 

she’s mine tonight.

Men glance—eyes sliding 

fast like hungry knives—

but when she kisses me hard, 

when she presses her mouth to mine,

the message is clear: she belongs to me.

Their looks scramble away like light.

A shadow of a man she knows

her casual fuck buddy from the past

stands a beat away, watching.

Jealousy writes itself across his face; 

his jaw clenches.

He doesn’t step forward.

He better not.

 

He only stares as 

I tighten my grip on her waist,

as I press her back to me and 

let the toy inside her scream under my thumb.

unspoken words of my power move is

“You see her. She is mine.” 

“She always was mine tonight.”

For an hour the club becomes our altar.

I ride the beat on her hips with my hands, 

and my thumb rides the remote.

Full throttle—no mercy

electric pulses smashing her,

each press sending her into 

white flashes of pleasure 

that she can’t hide.

She is loud, filthy, beautiful—

five, eight, maybe more 

orgasms folding into each other,

her legs trembling, 

her throat raw from calling my name.

“Daddy—oh Daddy—please —” 

she pants into my neck.

I laugh low, cruel, soft. 

“Good girl. Keep dancing for me.”

“Daddy's dirty little slut.”, i say

She grinds harder, 

as i press her boobs like stress balls

a show of devotion and defiance—

for him, for them, 

for every eye that thinks it has a right.

When the music swells 

I pull her close and whisper,

“Ready to go, baby?”

Her eyes go glassy with want. 

“Let’s go,” she breathes, 

but near my ear she begs,

“Take me to your hotel.”

I blink—“My hotel?”

She nods hard, 

cheeks flushed, 

breath hot, 

voice sure:

“Yes. Take me there.”

“Fuck me. Own me. Destroy me.”

“PLEASE DADDY...”

Her voice is a command I accept. 

I press the remote to the edge

full animal—the toy inside her answers 

like a beast, 

and she jerks, limps, 

laughs, moans.

I kiss her, hard, 

claim her mouth, 

While he watches us

and then I put the toy on 

fucking full throttle.

“Walk with me,” I tell her, 

fingers laced in the small 

of her back, guiding.

She stumbles 

but she wants it—

every step is a surrender 

and a promise.

Her legs quake, 

her breath shudders; 

she takes each block 

like penance, like worship.

People part around us; 

the city becomes a corridor to a 

bed that will remember our names.

She keeps whispering between moans:

“Daddy, I can’t—”

“You want Daddy or not” I say,

“Yes Yes Yes” she says,

voice low as thunder.

She laughs, a broken little thing, 

and grips me like a lifeline.

We move out into the Montreal night, 

neon bleeding above us,

and her hips sway with every press of the remote

an open secret for the street.

She is my 

messy, 

loud, 

needy 

property

limping, 

whispering, 

aching

and I am more than ready to 

make sure she remains so.

yes we are about to

MAKE

MORE 

FORBIDDEN

MIDNIGHT 

MONTREAL 

MISTAKES