Email to my hubby


After watching the way you sucked off Jordan a few weeks ago, like you were born to do it, and the way you were sucking Marlon’s cock the other night, the way you were holding it, the way you were rubbing his balls while you were sucking on the head. the way you were just slobbering all over it (you were liking that big black dick, weren’t you!), the way you let him fuck your face with it, the way you looked at his dick all hard and throbbing in front of your face, and the way you bent over and put your bitch ass up for him when he told you to, your reaction when he started pulling down your panties and you knew he was gonna hit it, the way you eagerly spread your butt cheeks for him like a little faggot, and watching him mount you, and then fuck you, and your reactions to it, watching him work his cock all up inside you, the way you anxiously reached back to grab and rub his balls when he asked you to (you did that for him!), the sounds you were making, like he was hurting you but then watching you actually back your ass up on it like you wanted more of it, the way he just owned you and made you his bitch and it just seemed so natural for you to submit to him like that, the way your little dick got all hard and you started spewing all over, the way you arched your back and squeezed your butt muscles on his dick when he asked you to, like you were trying to milk the cum out of his balls, the way you reacted when he grabbed your hips and started fucking you hard and fast and then grunted out loud when he busted his nut inside you, and the way he you stood up for him when he tied the used condom around your nuts afterwards, all full of his cum, and made you wear it and walk out the door that way…

… I realize now that it was just silly of me to ever think that you could be my pimp daddy, that you could ever be my Dom.

Once a PussyBoy, always a PussyBoy. That’s so true isn’t it?

I’m so proud of you! It’s like you’re my little slut boy now. And I’m your Pimp Mommy, huh!

Maybe I should start whoring you out. Are you ready to start making mommy some money, bitch?


Email to my hubby


Okay, so I’ve been thinking it’s time to maybe do something fun to keep things interesting.

You love my games, right?

So… here’s the deal. I want to give you a choice.

I want to seduce a man that you know, and that knows you. Not someone that you know that well, just someone that you occasionally run into and interact with. Like a business acquaintance, or a guy from the country club, or one of the charities we’re involved with. I’m not quite sure exactly; I’m still kind of thinking out loud about this.

But I want to maybe run into the guy, flirt with and seduce him, and have sex with him. I’m thinking maybe two or three times before ending it. For me, it would be more exciting, and more of a challenge if he was also married. Probably also less complicated.

Situation 1… you would know who the guy is, but he wouldn’t know that I’m your wife. I would just be some girl he met somewhere. So that every time you saw or interacted with him, you’d know that he fucked me, but he wouldn’t know that I was your wife. So as between you and him, it would just be your little secret.

Situation 2… you would not know who the guy is… and would never know… but he would know that I’m your wife. So that every time you saw or interacted with him, you’d have no idea that he fucked your wife, but he’d know that you’re a cuckold. So as between the two of you, it would be his little secret.

Don’t you think this would be fun?

So… I need you to pick one, please.

I’m thinking this is something we’d do after we get back from our trip.


Email to my man, who is out of town for work


Hi sweetheart —

You keep asking me about my past, and I am cagey talking about it. You know why. But you keep asking, and then whenever I tell you about something slutty I did I end up getting completely ravished by you. So there’s this part of me that loves telling you (sometimes it feels like emotional exhibitionism) for the reaction. But I’m always reluctant because — well, I don’t want you to think I’m just a big slut. I’m really ashamed of some of the things in my past, even if I think they’re hot still. When I think about them I’m embarrassed and kind of mortified that I would do them, but then turned on at the same time. Add you taking my hand and putting it down your pants while I’m telling you, and all of those sensations blend into this kind of sublime push-me pull-you that makes me come so hard when you finally get the truth out of me. 

Maybe that’s why I keep stories in reserve. I mean, I’ve forgotten a lot of stuff too, because I was drunk during a lot of them. There were nights where we’d do lines and go clubbing and those are a blur too. 

But since you’re all lonely in that hotel room, and I know you want to jerk off (send me a picture, pretty please?) I thought I would tell you about this one horrible thing I did. It’s short, but I think you’ll like it. 

It was college and I was hanging out with a friend in her dorm. Her boyfriend came by. She was all spun up about this guy, but he treated her like trash. It was well known that he cheated on her all the time. He was this loud guy, never let anybody else talk. Thought he was smarter than everybody. He was a dealer, so he always had pot, and would get us stoned whenever we wanted. Well, we hang out for a while and I want to walk back to my dorm which was across campus. He offers to walk me because some creep had been harassing girls on campus.

He says he needs to drop by one place on the way, and we go to the back of the lecture halls which somehow he has a keycard to. Maybe he was a TA or something, I don’t know. Anyway, he takes me into one of those huge lecture halls, and stands on stage. He starts goofing, like he’s teaching a class on how to score weed. I’m giggling, he’s pretty funny. 

And then he says he’ll give me a gram free if I get on my knees and give him a blow job right here. No way, I say. He ups it to an eighth, and he kisses me. He’s a good kisser, and I think, why not? 

It’s pretty dark in the room, just the lights through the glass panels from the hallway. I get down on my knees and unzip him. He was soft, but that changed pretty quick when I started working on him. He busted out a joint and lit it while I was sucking. 

He wasn’t that huge, I could take him all into my mouth, but that’s good because he was pretty aggressive, pumping his hips. He started talking to me, telling me to imagine the whole hall being filled with students watching me. All of them watching me blow him for drugs. 

And it hit me kind of hard right then, what I was doing. I felt like a crack whore. Then he just exploded in my mouth. I swear I’ve never felt that much semen before. But you know me, I swallowed it all. 

That turned into a semi-regular thing for us. Not on stage in the lecture hall, but me blowing him for an eighth. I was always flush. My friend never found out, but I’m sure I wasn’t the only girl he had that arrangement with. 

And the question I want you to ask yourself as you picture me, all of nineteen years old on my knees for this guy in front of an empty lecture hall, is just what I did for him for an ounce?

And also, you might be interested to know that I learned later the dark lecture hall wasn’t totally empty. But those are stories for another time. Take a picture of you stroking your beautiful cock. I miss it. 

I miss you. 



From Sissy Frankie to Mistress Mommy

Mistress — you asked me for my biggest fantasy. Here it is.

I check into a nice hotel and get bumped to a suite after the hotel messes up my reservation. I open my suitcase and put away all of my clothing.  I take a shower, shave my face (I’ve already had a Brazilian, which was a humiliation in of itself, the girl snickering as she yanked my tender bits smooth). I paint my toenails pink. Mommy won’t let me paint them red. “Red is a a color for women. Pink is a color for girls. You won’t be a woman until a man has fucked you”. I pull the black lace garter around my waist and pull up seamed stockings, making sure they’re straight. This makes me so hard, just doing that. My little penis jutting out. I’m nearly shaking I’m so excited. Just as I’m fastening the last stocking holder a knock comes from the door.

"Room service," says the voice. I look through the peephole and see a young black man in a uniform. 

"I didn’t order anything," I say. 

"Champagne, sir. Complements of the management. To apologize for the earlier mixup."

"Just a moment," I say. I fetch the plush white terri cloth robe. I answer the door and he wheels the cart, a bottle on ice and a few glasses. He puts them on the side table, and turns to me. 

That’s when I realize on the bed is laid out my dress, my heels, my bra, and this young fellow has noticed them. He’s handsome, tall, a nice face. Why is it that I am repulsed by men until I make myself feminine, and then suddenly I’m boy crazy?

Oh well. He’ll probably think I have my wife here, I figure, and those are her clothes. I realize I should tip him. I grab my wallet, and as I’m fishing for a dollar or two I follow his gaze to my feet. There they are, obviously stocking clad and with my painted toes. He has a smile on his face. A snicker, maybe. 

I go past the dollars aside and pull out a $20. “Thank you for bringing this up, and for your discretion.”

"I’m sure I don’t know what you’re referring to, sir," he says. "And thank you."

When he’s gone, I’m flushed with the horror of what just happened. I can’t believe it. Almost caught. Part of me wants to back out, check out, go home. But I don’t. I open the bottle and slam a glass of champagne. I open the robe and look down at myself, and wriggle my toes in the stockings. The silky fabric hugging my legs. My little cock swells again. 

I do my makeup next, then pull on my bra and my dress and step into my heels. I look at myself in the mirror. Put on a little music and dance. I take a few pictures on my phone, drink some more champagne. 

When the whole bottle is nearly done another knock comes at the door, and then to my shock the door just opens. The young man from before comes in, accompanied by another black man about his age, this fellow huskier than the first. 

"Don’t be scared," the first one said, closing the door behind him. "We’re not going to do anything here, I just wanted to show my friend. We both have a thing for little white sissies. I just wanted to show him what a little sissy looks like."

"Y-y-you should leave," I say, now scared. 

"It’s okay, girly," says the second one. "We’re nice guys. We won’t do anything you don’t want. How about you give us a glass of that champagne, and we can just talk. Just a couple nice men with a nice girl, that’s all." Something about his tone soothed me. Made me believe they didn’t have my worst health in mind.

"Okay," I say. I pour them measures, and we toast each other, but I keep my distance. We chat about the weather. About the hotel and the city. They are nice, smiling and friendly. I loosen up, and maybe it’s the drink, but I feel pretty good. 

"I want to dance," says the second one, and he walks right up to me, and puts his arms around me. He pulls me close, and I just decide to go with it. We sway. I lay my head on his shoulder. He’s strong. I feel weak next to him, insignificant. "Mmmm, you’re sexy," he says, and I feel sexy. I feel desirable. Feminine. 

He smells good, a little cologne, a little sweat. He presses his whole body against me. And then, he spins me, and pulls me back against him, reaching down and pulls my dress up over my hips to reveal my stiff little penis. “Check this shit out,” he says. 

The first guy, still in his uniform, comes right up to me. He takes my face into his hands, and kisses me. It’s a deep, wet kiss, warm and makes me weak in the knees. I take in a stuttering breath, I’m quivering with fear, desire, humiliation. I moan into his mouth. 

"Yeah, that’s it," he says. "Told you we could turn this bitch out," he says. He kisses me again, pressing into me from the front, while the second one is pressuring my back, grinding his big hard cock against my ass, pressing me forward, both into the other. He’s got his lips on my neck, my ear, he’s whispering "You’re so sexy. We want you fuck you so bad. Feel how hard you made us?" I do, and it’s transporting me to another place. I feel high on them. I feel like a woman who has coaxed an erection out of a man.

The first presses my shoulder and I go down onto my knees, my dress being held up by my iron erection, leaking precum. They gather in front of me and they unzip their pants. I reach inside and pull out two of the most beautiful cocks I’ve ever seen in my life. “You know what to do, sissy,” the second one says.

They are both so hard, so big. I’ve never looked at a cock up close before, and never seen one besides mine. It’s skinny, the one in my pants, and kind of small. One of these is fat and stubby, but still longer than mine. The other an elegant shaft, dark chocolate brown, with a rounded head shiny from the skin stretching taut.

With an encouraging shove on the back of my head I lick the tip of one, then the other. I open my mouth and, for the first time, allow another man to enter my body. I take the first inch of the first man’s beautiful cock, and I let out another moan. “Shit,” he says, “that feels so fucking good.” I feel him shift, his dick moves deeper into my mouth. But he doesn’t push it oo deep, not yet. 

I come clear and go to the other, having to stretch my mouth open so wide to take him. They both smell human, male, sweaty. “Feel my balls,” he says. I do with my other hand, they’re pendulous, soft. I stroke them as he moans. He takes my hair into his hand and pumps my mouth. “She’s got me on the edge.” 

"Feed her," the other man says, and the first one does — my mouth flooding with warm ejaculate. It’s mushroomy, male, salty — so thick and warm. I whimper, close my mouth and swallow.

"Damn," he says. "This bitch has it down."

"Back on me," the first man says. I take him into my mouth, and he fucks it like he wants, shoving deeper into my mouth. I block him with my fist so he can’t go too deep and with my hand jerking him and my hot lips on his cock, he pulls back and puts it right on my lips. "Open up," he says, and shoots into my mouth, streams hitting the roof of my mouth, my throat, dripping all over the open cavity, dripping with saliva and semen. I glance up to see the second man snapping pictures with his phone. 

Panic must fill my eye, but he smiles. “Don’t worry doll. Nobody will see these but us.”

I stand up, wobbly, and drink some champagne. I go to sit, but the first one grabs my arm. “Oh no, that was just the first act, sweetheart. Get your ass on the bed now.”

Later, I’m laying in bed ravished, scared, alone, unsure of what just happened. They’re dressed now, joking around. The first one pulls something from his coat pocket. A bottle of red nail polish. “Compliments of your wife, you faggot.” They laugh together as they open the door. “Should we put a ‘free blowjobs’ sign on the door? Maybe ‘Takes it up the pussy like a pro?” And then they’re gone, except for the taste of them.

I hope you like my story, Mistress. I’d do anything for you if you’d make it real for  me. 


Sissy Frankie

From a tattooed cheater to her musician boyfriend

So that morning before you left when I woke you up with blow job? I rolled over and ran my hand up your morning wood? I peeled the sheet back and took it into my hot mouth, stroking, moaning, whimpering all around your big mushroom head until you flushed me with your cum? And I swelled it all? Not like normal when I let it dribble out. Remember? That was because I had a dream about getting the tattoo. A line of stars on the inside of both thighs from my knees to my pussy. Like, guiding the rocket in, or the mouth. I was so fucking horny. :-)

Anyway, so when you left for tour (and tell Jack he’s a fucking asshole. Did you know he was all “No bitches in the bus, Yoko Ono!” when I came on to kiss you goodbye? Fuck him) I decided to get it. If it made me that wet, I figured I would love having it forever.

I didn’t want to go to the guy who did my sleeve because…I don’t know, just wanted something different. I talked to a few people and got a name and called him up and made an appointment. 

He was kind of an old dude, in his 40s, but ripped and had full sleeves. Thick black hair. Gruff voice, like he was a smoker and a drinker. Turns out he’s a biker. Had his leather hung on a vintage coat rack with his denim colors over it. I told him what I wanted, and he said he didn’t have time to do them all, but he could get me started and I could come back in a week when he was back from a little vacation and he could finish me up. 

I just had a cotton dress I put shorts on under so I could just spread my legs and not worry about it. He spent an hour on me so so, starting just above the knee. Each star about the size of a thumbtack head, about an inch or so apart. He talked me out of black, so instead they’re all a sky blue. He got four done on each side. He kept bringing my knees together to check that they lined up, and then he’d push them apart. 

He did it like he didn’t care about me, like he was so focused on the work and making it good. He did a great job. I paid him, said I’d meet him next week then went home where I got that giant purple vibrator out and fucked myself silly all afternoon. 

I’ve never been so worked up when you’re not around. I thought about fucking every man on the street. Little punks, businessmen in expensive suits, gang bangers, hipsters, soldiers. Fucking anybody. 

It was like Catherine said, when she got her nipples pierced and afterward just dropped to her knees and blew the guy without even asking or saying a word. I guess the guy told her it happens all the time. It’s the endorphins.

The little stars are so sexy and cool. I forget they’re there, then take a bath and I move my leg and see them. It’s like a cool shock. I love them. :-)

So a week went by and Mr. Purple got a lot of action that week. I went to see him but dressed much sexier. A shorter, tighter dress. A pushup bra, and I wore your favorite panties. The ones with the white opaque gusset, but the totally sheer upper, so you can just see the top of my slit and maybe my clit if you’re lucky. 

Biker dude barely glanced at me. Waived me to sit down and started prepping. His shop is small, and you’re behind a screen, but not that private. I could see the street even though most of me was out of view. 

But I spread my legs, and if he noticed my panties or anything he barely flinched. He got to work. Opening and closing my legs, which took my breath away each time. The higher he got on my thighs the more it hurt, even though there’s more fat and it’s not over bone, the skin is just so sensitive. 

I told him before I wanted him to shop at the top of my thighs, but this time I pointed to the side of my lips, what is that, my mons or something? And I said, I want one here on each side. 

Well, when he did the one on my right side his hand rested against my pussy and there was the buzzing of the gun. It wasn’t like a vibrator I could get off too, but it was fucking sexy, and I’m sure I let out an involuntary moan. I think I started showing wetness through my panties. Then he did the other one, and turned away from me. 

"Stay there so I can bandage you," he said, and I did. He put Vaseline then plastic over each little star, and then peeled his gloves off, put one hand on my chest holding me down, and looking right in my eyes he pulled my panties aside and started rubbing my clit with his thumb. 

"I know what you want," he said. I bit my lip and gasped. He rubbed faster and slipped a finger inside me. I looked out and saw people walking by. One guy looking at some flash in the window, but he didn’t even really see us. 

He slipped another finger in, his ring and middle finger and was fucking me with them, rubbing me with his thumb when he’d thrust in. I was so wet. It was all squelchy sounding and he fucked me harder and soon I was moving my hips and and meeting him and moaning, and maybe saying “Oh fuck, oh fuck.”

With his other hand he took out his cock and started pumping it. He slapped it against my leg. “Slut,” he said. “you want this so bad, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer, but seeing him stroke and feeling his fingers — I totally gave in and came all over his fingers. I bore down and he shot a stream of hot cum up my leg, then another, and another. Three, four, the wet warmness splashing and dripping down my thighs. 

He slapped his dick on my leg again, and then handed me some paper towels and wiped himself and zipped up. I moved his cum around a bit, feeling the slickness of it, and then wiped it up. Wishing he had held my mouth open and shot in my face, made me taste it.

"After I close up here about five I’m going to go up the street," and he named this biker bar. "Meet me there, and I’ll introduce you to some of my buddies. We’ll take care of you."

I nodded okay. Handed him the money and walked out. Did he really think I’d meet him? Who knows. Not a chance in hell, though. 

But Mr. Purple and I had a lot of fun imagining what it would be like to take care of a bar full of bikers. I want you to imagine it too. Pump your cock and imagine your sweet little girlfriend on her back getting fucked, a line of guys waiting to do me. Following those little stars up my thighs into my pussy — into *your* pussy. Imagine them shooting on my face, on my boobs, all over my pussy. Imagine it and pump your cock and shoot all over. Do it a bunch so you’re not tempted by some slaggy groupie :-)

Next time you can let’s do a video chat and I’ll show you everything. I love you and miss you more every day :-( We’re almost half way there!


Email to my Hubby


Good morning, sweetie. I miss you.

I know how much you like to get my emails when you’re gone. You’re probably up and gone at meetings, so this will be your lunch treat maybe?

Have you been a good boy in Florida? Anything you need to tell mommy about? Met any pretty girls?

I’m curious, can cucks tell who the other cucks are? Like, when you’re in one of those huge board meetings, can you tell which of the men there are married to Hotwives? That’s always intriguing to me. Do you think any of them can tell that you’re a cuck, and that your wife has a Black Bull?

It’s also kinda strange to me how in business you’re so dominant, like you have this big swinging dick. But then in the bedroom you’re like small penis boy. Do you think any of them can tell that your wife fucks you up the ass with a strap-on? Or that you suck cock for her? That she makes you suck off her Bull?

What’s it like having your penis free and not locked up? That hasn’t happen on a trip in a long time, huh? Normally you’d be locked up, of course, but I wanted to surprise and do something special for you. Have you been jacking off like you’re not supposed to? You make sure you come home with your balls full! I plan on milking you when you get back.

I wish you were here with me in bed with me right now, holding me. Johnny came over and fucked your wife last night.

God, I wish you were here! I’m still all filthy and cummy right now, though. But you like it when my pussy’s like that, don’t you dirty boy?

Johnny just left; he has another job interview. He was feeling pretty good about it. He really appreciates what you’ve been doing for him since he got laid off. And I do too.

I was going to get up and take a shower with him, but got lazy instead. I imagined you here, with your handsome face between my legs, feasting on my cunt, licking out all the cum. I love it when you do that for me. It makes me feel so close to you.

Johnny was in one of his moods last night. Totally horned up. Very aggressive. He was barely in the door before he reached up under my skirt and ripped off my panties! And fucked me right there in the living room, on the chaise. He finished with me on top, so his cum kinda got every where.

Then he carried me upstairs. Like put me over his shoulder and carried me like a Neanderthal taking his bitch back up to the cave! At least he didn’t drag me…

In the bedroom, he wanted my ass. He hadn’t taken me that way in a while, and honestly, I’ve missed it, and told him so. I told him I wanted to feel him in my ass, and wanted him to tear it up. He loved hearing that! Then I bent over, spread my cheeks, and offered it to him.

Offering my ass to my Bull like that… turns me on like nothing else.

Then he slept over. I thought he was going to leave after, but since you weren’t here, he didn’t.

This morning he made love to me, in the same bed I share with my husband. That sounds kinda strange to say, like it’s a violation of something.

He was so different than last night. Totally different. He made love to me! He’s been doing that a lot more lately. Not quite sure what to make of it. Usually he’s just all about the hard, nasty fucking.

Your name came up, not at all. That was kinda strange. Normally he would have asked me about you, where you were, or whatever. But he didn’t.

I’ve also noticed that ever since I met and spent some time with Michael, Johnny’s been getting more and more dominant. I think he’s feeling a bit competitive maybe?

Between last night and this morning, Johnny nutted inside me four times. And you weren’t here to clean me up! So if he gets me pregnant, it’s all your fault!

Are you ready to be a daddy?

An email from Daddy to Kitten

Kitten -

You’re mine. I don’t know how to state it any plainer, but once you accept this fact both of our lives will be easier. Since you’re mine, I do as I will and make the choices for both of us.

I know you’re still sore at me (and probably sore somewhere else too), but you must realize that the tone you took with me earlier will never stand. You’ll have your burning flesh to remind you for the next few days (and I watched you dress for work this morning, pulling on your nice little boy shorts over your sexy fat ass and put your modest work clothes on, and I thought about the stripes across that ass burning as you stand at the whiteboard in front of your whole group and try to figure out the logic of your development stack, wondering if those nerdy programmers in your group knew their bitchy hard manager put her ass up, pussy out, when I ordered it so I could stripe it until you cried, tears and mascara staining your face cheeks, crimson welts on your other cheeks, what would they think? What would they think if they knew you were so submissive that if I ordered you to bend over and pull down your jeans so that they could pull a train on you, each subordinate dumping his semen deep inside your slutty cunt, that you would do it, and love it? Of course, I never would do that to you at your work, but I like knowing that I could). 

So this is notice that your attitude will not stand. I don’t know how you will reconcile the strong feminist icon you want to be in your professional life with the powerless slut for my cock and dominance that you are in your personal life, but this is not my problem. Do you feel that I lack respect for you? Just the opposite. I have too much respect for you to allow the weaker parts of your nature to come out. I am going to guide you through this. I will guide you through this with my hand, my cane, my cock, my words, and my love for you.

And so your jealousy is meaningless to me in that it brings no information to our union. It brings a pity party, an endless self-satisfying, self-justifying, self-referencing  pity-party. If you would prefer to live in some rom-com universe made up of neatly tied plot points, and have me humiliate myself in public to make up for my deficiencies, you will be sorely disappointed.  Your job is not to express my flaws. Your job is to keep me satisfied so that my flaws are lessened in my satisfaction. 

Maybe a threat of revealing will be a better guide than my hand. What about those videos of you dressed in that maid’s uniform that doesn’t even cover your ass when you’re on your hands and knees, scrubbing the marble in my bathroom with your toothbrush?  What about the shots of you taking it in your pussy and your mouth, eyes closed in satisfaction? What about the video of you crawling across the living room to my friend, eyes locked on his, saying to me “Please, Daddy, let your kitten lick his big cock?” What about the video of you standing nude, arms folded behind the small of your back, ass out, as I stroked it over and again with the cane as you cried and whimpered, losing count and having to start all over again. 

Here are the new rules: if you whine, I give you a warning. If you complain, I give you a warning. If you talk back I give you a warning. If you are passive-aggressive in your tone, I give you a warning. 

You get one warning a week. The second warning is a whipping.

Now then. You do have legitimate complaints and need to vent them, so there is a proper way to do this. First you kneel at my feet, and ask permission to speak. If I grant it, then you can talk openly so long as you don’t show disrespect. 

So now let’s talk about tonight (since I know you are checking this account from work even though you shouldn’t be, you little slut, sitting in your office right in front of everybody who thinks you are reading a spreadsheet or work email and instead your ass is burning and your pussy is quivering because I ignored it after I spanked you). Stop by the mall on the way home, there are some things waiting for you in the little French lingerie boutique you like. Ask to get dressed there, and wear them under your work clothes. 

On the bed is a new dress for you. It’s a flower print belted thing that looks just like something a 50s housewife would wear.  That, your pearls, your red pumps, and match your fucking lipstick. Then you will make me dinner. I will be home at 8:00pm on the nose and dinner should be on the table hot, wine opened and poured, and you sitting demurely waiting for me. 

After we eat, and you clean up the kitchen, pour me a scotch and light my cigar and I smoke it, I will take you into the bedroom and fuck you. I think your bitchiness came up because I’ve been neglecting you. Tonight is about making you feel like a woman. I am going to work your tight little cunt so hard tonight that tomorrow it’s your pussy that will throb and cry from abuse rather than your ass. You’re going to be dripping my seed from your pussy so much tomorrow that you’re going to have to wear a pad to stop it from staining your pants. 

Since I know I just made you wet yourself telling you what’s going to happen, you don’t need to reply. Just do as I say. I’ll see you at eight tonight. Be ready. 



These are sexy letters

You might think this blog is about the past, but it’s about missing someone. It’s about dreaming of someone so bad that you yearn for their touch and the only way to express that is by writing them. Sure you could send a naked picture, and plenty of blogs here on Tumblr show just that, and pictures have won the day for the immediacy of their effect. But isn’t there room for text, too? Filthy, dirty, nasty text that gives our desire voice and hope that our voice will reach that person we desire so much.

We write letters on our bodies using lipstick, we caption our photos to put words in the model’s mouth, we send anonymous Asks to sexy strangers wanting to know what gets them hard or wet (or both), we write notes on our reblogs saying what we want.

We send a note, hearts beating, hoping the person that opens it will see our desire laid out and respond. We ask them to call us our secret names: Daddy, slut, bitch, faggot, sweetheart, lover, boy, girl, goddess, mommy, sissy, whore, savior, cuckold, master, domina, miss, sir, mistress. Our mouths water and our blood pulses as we confess and imagine them opening a waxed envelope, a text with a link, an email, a folded paper ripped from a binder and passed around the school room that confesses.

Put them here. Submit them and let’s collect some of the best dirty writing we can. All submissions considered, no pictures, all text.