Colleague and her husband

Last Friday had the kind of energy that made me feel like I could get away with anything.

It all started innocently enough, a late-night movie with a work friend and her husband. Nothing out of the ordinary on the surface. Just the three of us in a mostly empty cinema. Xav was supposed to join, but bailed last minute because of overtime. I was furious, not just because he flaked, but because he completely derailed my plans. I had something else in mind.

I dressed the way I felt, a little bold, completely unbothered. Oversized black hoodie zipped all the way up, long and baggy enough to pass as a dress. Underneath? Just a black bra and a thin thong. No pants. No shorts. No intention of playing it safe. No one would know anyway, unless I wanted them to.

Thankfully, my friend offered to pick me up, saving me from stewing in frustration over Xav’s no-show.

The theater was quiet, scattered couples tucked into corners, too cozy to notice anything beyond each other. We picked the back row, tucked into a shadowy corner. The perfect little hideaway in the dark.

We arrived a little early and before the trailers even rolled, I excused myself to the restroom, not because I needed to go, but because I knew exactly what I was about to do.

Inside the stall, I locked the door and, in one smooth, deliberate motion, slipped off my panties. I folded them neatly and tucked them into the pocket of my hoodie.
The sensation that followed was immediate, electric. It felt like peeling away the last layer between me and the night. Suddenly everything felt sharper. The cool air against bare skin. The awareness of my own body. The knowledge that I had just made myself vulnerable and no one knew.

Back in my seat, I settled in like nothing had happened. But everything had.

I crossed my legs. The cool air teased me, brushing softly over the most sensitive parts. The hoodie hung innocently over my thighs, zipped up and modest, but underneath, I was bare. Every subtle movement sent ripples through me. Every shift in posture was a jolt of sensation. I tugged the hem slightly higher on my hips, careful, intentional. Hidden in plain sight. That was the thrill.

For a while, I stayed still. My heart beat a little faster, a sly smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Then I moved again, curling my legs into the seat, balanced delicately on the edge of control. The position opened me just enough to feel completely exposed, even if no one could see. My skin prickled. My breath slowed. It was almost too much, and yet not enough.

The movie played, but I couldn’t focus. Every rustle from the row ahead sent little jolts of awareness through me. I kept catching myself holding my breath, waiting. Wondering.
What if someone turned around? What if they saw?

Time stretched, suspended in that shadowy corner of the world. All that existed was the thrum of anticipation and the quiet, wicked buzz of secrecy.

When the credits finally rolled, I lowered my legs, adjusted my hoodie, and stood like nothing had happened. Calm. Innocent. Composed. My friend looked at me for a moment, unreadable. Maybe she noticed something. Maybe not. Either way, I felt flushed and glowing, charged with satisfaction.

By the time we were back in the car, the rush had softened into something warm and lingering.
A night that left no trace, except a folded pair of panties in my pocket and a memory that felt far too good for how little I’d actually done.

Sometimes the best kind of mischief is the kind no one ever knows about.

Library

Yesterday was beyond thrilling, I reached a new milestone: selling my freshest, juiciest panties yet.

The truth is, I’d made a deal with a buyer who craved something extra special. He was willing to pay triple the usual price, but with one strict condition: he wanted my freshest, juiciest panties, meaning straight from a freshly earned orgasm. I couldn’t resist, but not because of the money, but because pushing my limits always turns me on.

Why the library? It’s my favorite secret spot, quiet, discreet, with plenty of hidden corners. The perfect place for a daring game no one else would suspect.

I arrived earlier than planned, hoping to avoid him, but fate had other ideas. He was there around the same time, though he was grabbing breakfast at McDonald’s when I sent my photo text.

I settled into a secluded corner and with deliberate teasing moves, I orgasmed after edged twice, one of my favorite tricks to build up more juices and stretch the pleasure. Then, without a sound, I orgasmed silently, my body shivering from the intense waves of release.

I wasn’t sure if anyone noticed the trembling, but I was almost certain an older lady caught a glimpse of my soaked pink thong when it picked up from the floor. Trust me, I’d been scanning the room carefully before deciding to remove it, but just as I was about to tuck it away, the lady appeared out of nowhere.

My fingers was shaking when I slid the damp panties into a ziplock bag, heart pounding with the rush of being so close to being caught. After packing my things, I crept over to a shadowy corner of the bookshelf and slipped the bagged treasure between the volumes—my secret gift, hidden in plain sight.

Uniform fetish??

A few weeks ago, I surprised Xav with a Japanese schoolgirl uniform for his birthday. Tight blouse, short skirt, the whole fantasy. I thought it’d be a fun, one-time thing.

Apparently not.

Since that night, he’s become obsessed. He’s been bringing home other school uniforms, SAJC, ACS, Woodgrove Sec, ACJC, NYJC. I don’t even know where he’s getting them, but they’re all perfectly folded and still in brand-new packaging. Like… does he have a secret supplier?

Don’t get me wrong, I play along. It’s not exactly hard to slip into a skirt and let him ravish me like a forbidden secret. But I still don’t totally understand the appeal. The uniforms don’t stay on for long. Half the time, they’re pulled aside or yanked off before anything really begins.

When I asked him what it is about them that drives him so crazy, he just smirked and said, “It’s a guy thing.”
Cool. That told me absolutely nothing.

So here’s my question for all of you:
What’s the deal with the school uniform kink?
Is it the innocence? The control? The taboo? The aesthetic? Or is it just a deep nostalgia thing I’ll never fully understand?

If you’re someone who’s into it, or if you’ve been with someone who is — I’d love to hear your take. Leave a comment or DM me. No judgment, just curiosity.

Sharing my toy

I never imagined I’d be the kind of person to share my vibrator. Not because I didn’t trust him, trust was never the issue, but because it felt like such a private, personal part of my world. That little device was my sanctuary during solo moments, a secret source of comfort and pleasure that belonged only to me. The idea of bringing it into our sex life hadn’t even crossed my mind, until one night, when it just... happened.

We were sprawled together in the sheets, heat and tension coiling tighter with every touch, the teasing leaving me desperate and throbbing for release. His fingers toyed with my nipples in slow, deliberate circles when he suddenly leaned in and asked if I wanted him to take my vibrator… and make me cum.

My cheeks flushed, heart skipping a beat. I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by how vulnerable the question made me feel. But then, slowly, I reached over to my nightstand and pulled it out. My little secret. The thing that had always known exactly how to make me melt.

His eyes widened, not with judgment, but with genuine fascination. I handed it to him, my pulse pounding in my throat.

The way he looked at me in that moment was something else. It wasn’t just desire; it was trust, curiosity, and an intense connection that made my chest tighten. He took it gently, cradling it like something precious, and sat up beside me. I lay back, my body already responding to the electricity in the air.

He didn’t rush. He kissed me slow and deep, his lips warm and steady against mine, while his hand moved lower, exploring me with a patience I hadn’t realized I craved. When he finally turned it on, the soft hum filled the quiet room and a thrill shot straight through me. What made it so overwhelming wasn’t the vibration itself, it was surrendering control.

He was completely present, watching every reaction, every little gasp, every subtle shift of my hips, every flutter of breath. He adjusted the speed, the pressure, the angle, reading my body like an open book, learning what made me feel alive in real-time and trust me, it was intense, far more intense than anything I’d experienced alone.

I felt exposed, raw. My hands clenched the sheets, my body arched toward him, and when I finally came, it wasn’t just an orgasm, it was a tidal wave of vulnerability crashing into pure bliss. I was moaning, loud and helpless, and his hand stayed with me until I’d completely unraveled.

Afterwards, he pulled me close, his hands resting gently on my waist as he lowered his head between my legs. His tongue traced slow, teasing circles on my pussy. The licking was gentle but with very flick, every swipe sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, making me ache for more.

Without breaking the connection, we shifted into a 69 position. I initiated. I wrapped my lips around his dick, sucking him softly while he continued to worship my clit with his tongue. His fingers held my vibrator steady inside my vagina, the buzzing sensation blending perfectly with the warmth of his mouth and the slickness of my own touch. It was intoxicating, like being fucked by two guys at once, each pleasure amplifying the other.

I was so close to the edge, my breath catching in my throat, my hips trembling with need, when he suddenly stopped. Slowly, he reached for a condom, rolling it on with careful precision.

After a few slow, sensual thrusts, he handed me the vibrator, his gaze steady, intense, with an unspoken command in his eyes. I knew exactly what he wanted.

I brought it to my lips, still slick and warm from being inside me. The moment it touched my tongue, a thrill ran down my spine. It was dirty, yes, but it was also wildly intimate. The taste of myself, the hum of the toy against my mouth, his cock still deep inside me, it was overwhelming in the most delicious way.

He watched every movement, every moan that escaped as I circled the vibrator with my tongue, as if I was offering him a glimpse into some raw, hidden part of myself and the way his hips moved, deeper, more deliberate, told me just how much it was turning him on.

My free hand clutched at the sheets while I sucked the toy, my body stretched between the fullness of him inside me and the vibration echoing through my mouth, a strange, erotic loop of sensation.

My body was a mess of sensations, his cock moving deep and steady inside me, the vibrator humming against my lips, the taste of myself still lingering on my tongue, and his eyes fixed on me like I was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen.

I felt it building fast. That tight, pulsing pressure deep in my core, threatening to snap. My walls clenched around him, and I could tell by the way his rhythm faltered, just for a second, that he was close too.

He gripped my hips harder, his thrusts growing rougher, more urgent. I moaned around the vibrator, still in my mouth, the vibrations adding another dizzying layer of stimulation. Everything blurred, his heat, the hum, the tension curling tighter and tighter in my belly.

And then it happened, almost at the same time.

My orgasm crashed through me like a wave, sudden and all-consuming. My hands were trembling, thighs shaking around him. Every nerve in my body lit up, the pleasure sharp and overwhelming, stretching through every inch of me.

I felt him let go at nearly the same moment, his hips slamming into mine as he buried himself deep, groaning against my neck. I could feel his whole body tense, his release syncing perfectly with mine, as if we’d both been holding on just to fall together. 

The 30s birthday party

Last week, we threw down for Isabel’s 30th birthday, and honestly, it was unlike anything I’ve ever been part of. Forget the usual cake and polite toasts. This night was soaked in leather, lube, and a kind of raw, electric lust that made my skin tingle.

Isabel didn’t want a quiet dinner or a weekend at the spa. She told us she wanted chaos. No joking. So we gave her exactly that: 30 kinky dares, one for every year she’s lived fiercely in her own skin. And from the moment she started, it was like she took over the entire room, made us all her audience, her altar, her willing playthings.

We circled around her like wolves, drinks in hand, the air thick and heavy with anticipation. That smirk on her lips said it all, she’d been waiting for this night her whole damn life.

She slipped on a lace blindfold first, shutting out the world and letting the darkness take over while we held our breath. Then came the ice cubes, tracing cold fire over her nipples, thighs, and places that made us shiver watching her. The remote-controlled bullet passed from hand to hand, teasing her with jolts of pleasure that made her bite her lip. The breathplay countdown had her gasping, each soft gasp tightening the tension between us all.

But the moments that really stuck with me were later, when it got so intensely personal.

When Isabel set that timer for five minutes to make herself come, I could see every nerve in her body tense like a coiled spring. The clock was loud in the quiet room, every tick adding pressure, adding heat. She was totally in control, and yet you could tell it was killing her a little, too. Then, at exactly 3 minutes and 27 seconds, she broke. Her whole body shuddered like lightning had struck her. Her breath caught, sharp and ragged, and I swear the whole room exhaled with her. That moment release under the strict rule of a countdown, was hypnotic. Watching her own pleasure teeter on the edge of time was wild, vulnerable, and utterly captivating.

Then came the part that felt almost sacred.

She started fingering herself slowly, then with increasing urgency, like she was chasing something deeper than just sensation. Her breaths hitched, her body trembling as waves crashed over her, and tears slipped down her cheeks, not from pain but from being overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. She was shaking, vulnerable, completely undone. It was one of those moments that makes you stop and just feel everything, the power, the surrender, the beauty of someone fully owning their desire and emotions at the same time. Watching her like that was… breathtaking.

And then, the final act: she stood in front of the mirror, still breathing hard, eyes fierce and unflinching. Her fingers moved inside her with a purpose that made the air thicken again. As she came — slow, deep, and utterly unapologetic, she whispered, “Happy birthday, bitch.” The words were fierce and tender all at once. It was more than a birthday wish, it was a declaration of self-love, ownership, and pride in every part of herself. 

By the end of the night, the whole room was drenched, not just in sweat. 

We were all soaked, clothes sticking to skin, breaths ragged, some of us were even missing pieces of clothing. 

We didn't celebrate Isabel's 30th but she did.



And honestly? I’m still feeling the aftershocks.

Soldiers

It started when Xav got called up for reservist. No cuddles. No sex. No him for 1 weeks.

I told myself I’d be fine. It was just 1 week. But by day four, my body was aching. Not just a quiet yearning, I mean aching. My skin missed his touch, my chest felt hollow, and between my legs? I was constantly wet, pulsing, needy. The kind of ache that no shower pressure or pillow grinding could fix. I craved him, his scent, his voice, his rods in me.

That night, one day before his book out, we started sexting. It began as playful teasing. I’d planned to reward him for being the good soldier, you know?
I sent a cheeky photo, just the right angle of my body in lace bra ad thong, nipples barely visible, with captioned: "Thinking of you..."
He replied in seconds and I knew I had his cock in my hand without even touching him.

I told him I was fresh out of the shower, still dripping wet. I left it ambiguous, was it water, or something more? Then I sent a voice note, low and breathy: "My holes are so wet."

We jumped on a call immediately. His voice came through low and urgent, laced with restraint, he was whispering as his bunkmates were all around.

Meanwhile, I lay on my bed, towel tossed aside, legs open. One hand on my nipple, the other between my thighs, slowly circling. 
I gave him a live audio show, told him exactly what I was doing. I even rubbed my clit loudly into the mic, exaggerated the squelch, dragged it out just to torture him.

Trust me, he was panting into the speaker, frustrated, helpless, trying not to make noise. 

I was still catching my breath when his bunkmate called for him. Just like that, the call ended. Cold. 

The next day, he was homed before 2pm, and we barely kissed for a minute before he pulled me into the shower. Luckily, his mom and sister were out, the house was ours. 

That “quick rinse” turned into hot, slippery hands and mouths crashing. His fingers found me in seconds and I am not sure if I wet from the shower or my own juice. 

What I do know was, while I was having my orgasm, he barely gave me time to breathe before he slid inside me. He was so hard. The sudden stretch, the sudden heat, wasn't a joke.

Sadly, after a few thrust, he was down. I was in fact enjoying when he pulled out but I won't blame him.

After we officially done showering, I figured that would be it for a while but I was so wrong.

Back in his room, as I was standing in front of the mirror, still drying my hair. I felt his hand slip down the front of my shorts and trust me, I wasn’t even dry down there but I was already soaked again.

My thong? Instantly ruined and that was only clean one I had.

I tried to stop him but failed. 

Without warning, he bent me over the bed, yanked my shorts down, and slid inside me from behind raw. He didn't even bother to put on a condom. His dick was rock hard and he thrust so deeply, I could feel myself getting full.

Sadly to say, he didn’t last long that round. I didn't even get to enjoy much before he pulled out and cum but before I could even recover from the bed, he was back up, condom on, dick hard. I think he lasted longer this round, more than I had expected as he managed to hold it until my 2nd orgasm.

We cleaned up, rested briefly, then decided to go out for dinner. I reached for a top and shorts, but he stopped me. He told me to wear a dress, a short dress with no bra and with the damp thong. I raised an eyebrow as that wasn’t usually his thing. But his eyes had this possessive gleam that flipped something deep inside me. So I obeyed. Thin blue sundress. No bra. Just a thong.

He drove us to GuoFu for hotpot, but not before making me wet in the car.

In the car, his hand were quick to slid up on my thigh. Slowly. Teasing. His fingers found my clit after circling lazily through my wet thong. I tried to close my legs but he didn’t let me. Suddenly, he pulled the fabric of my dress up to my waist, didn’t even pretend to hide it and instructed me to touch myself. I was dumbfound but I didn't resist.

Right there, passenger seat, cars all around us.
I did as I was told. I rubbed my clit slow and shallow while his eyes burned through me.

During one of the traffic stop, he randomly leaned over and sucked my nipple through the dress, I almost screamed.

The worst part, he never stopped touching me. By the time we parked, I’d already come twice. Quiet, breathless, trembling. I was so wet that I thought I’d puddle.

We walked into the restaurant after resting for 10mins and also the debate of whether if I should remove my thong in the car, but ends up, I didn't but maybe I should have.

We walked into the hotpot restaurant like everything was normal.
No one knew that my thong were extremely damp or my thighs were sticky with arousal. We had our dinner peacefully, hotpot bubbling between us but I couldn't close my legs as my thong were cold from the wetness and the surrounding. 

After dinner, he didn’t drive home. He took a detour to a quiet park nearby.

The moment he parked his car, his hand were as fast as the flash. One hand pinched my harden nipple, the other between my legs. I was so sensitive that I came again with barely any effort, moaning into his neck. The night was quiet until my moans broke it.

Before I could recompose, he opened my door. His pants were already unzipped, cock out, hard.

Without a word, I took him deep, slow. To be honest, I didn't expected he was so hard-on. I could feel every pulse, every twitch in my mouth. 

After a while, he tugged my hair, then pulled me out, flipped my dress up, moved my soaked thong aside, and bent me over the seat. He fucked me right there, outside, like he couldn’t wait another second, but he didn't last, and he came on my ass and wiped it with the same nonchalance that always drives me mad. 

I was annoyed when he did that and when I was about to scold him, he pushed two fingers inside me from behind. Trust me, I was on the edge again in no time. My climax were coming when, I accidentally let out a loud, unexpected fart. I froze. Mortified.

But Xav? he just chuckled and kept going like nothing happened. He even curled his fingers in that exact way I liked, and I exploded. My legs gave out, body limp against the seat, soaked, ruined.

Back in his car, the air was still thick with the heat we’d barely let cool. My legs trembled a little as I slid into the backseat, half anticipation, half recovery. I was still catching my breath, muscles a little sore, nerves still buzzing from what had just happened before. And there he was, climbing in behind me with that same wild look in his eyes

Before I could say a word, he was on his knees, face between my thighs, hands gripping them firmly like he needed to anchor himself. The leather seats felt cool under my skin, but his mouth—God, his mouth—was warm, wet, relentless. There was no buildup, no teasing. It was as if he knew I was already teetering on the edge and he had every intention of pushing me off it again. And I let him.

I was still so sensitive. Every flick of his tongue made my whole body jolt, like he had direct access to my nervous system. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was overwhelming, like I was vibrating from the inside out. I tried to close my legs, instinctively, from the intensity, but he just held them apart more firmly and kept going.

I remember moaning, breathless and almost embarrassed by how quickly my body responded again. It felt involuntary, primal. My hips moved on their own. I could barely think straight—just sensation after sensation crashing over me until I lost it completely. I squirted

My thighs was still shaking uncontrollably when he licked me clean, like it was a reward.

We managed to drive home without further touching, but before we even made it to the lift, he pulled me up the stairs to level 3. Pressed me against the wall, lifted my dress and inserted into me raw, but sadly to said, It didn’t last long.

He came hard and fast, groaning in my ear as I caught his release with my hand. The last of his stamina finally spent or so I thought.

The next day, I woke up tangled in him, my thighs were sore, pussy swollen and tender. I changed my position and then I felt it. The thick and warm dick. He was hard again and due to the positioning, he was pressed right against my ass, like his cock was looking for a concave.

He didn’t say a word but kissed my shoulder and slowly slid down between my legs, and started licking me ( we are both naked). It was slow, indulgent licks like I was his favorite meal but i guessed I was already sensitive. The moment he slipped two fingers in and curled them just right. My back arched and I came. My body gave in completely randomly. It was so intense that I squirted so hard. My thighs, his face, the bedsheet were soaked.

Before I could recover, he crawled back up and slid inside me. No warning. Just the thick stretch of his cock filling me again. I was sore, overstimulated, I was soaking for him.

I came hard again after just a few thrusts, it hit me fast, like a wave I didn’t see coming. My whole body shook, uncontrollably, and I couldn’t stop the moan that tore from my throat. It wasn’t quiet or polite. It was real, and loud, and messy. I was completely in it, lost in the sensation, pulsing around him and he didn’t stop. He kept going, deep and steady, even as I trembled beneath him, every nerve raw and exposed.

Before I could even speak, he grabbed my bra from the floor and wrapped it around my wrists. The move was fast, almost instinctual and it caught me completely off guard. The fabric was soft but the intention behind it was firm. He didn’t tie it tight enough to hurt, just enough to let me feel it, the tension, the pause, the surrender. I could have slipped out if I wanted to, but that made it even more thrilling.

I let out a shaky breath as he pulled out, only to drop back down between my legs. I could tell he was holding himself back, fighting the urge to continue, but in that moment, I didn’t care. All I cared about was the way his mouth found my clit again, slow and deliberate at first, then hungrier. His fingers slipped back inside me, and my body gave in without hesitation.

It didn’t take long. My thighs tensed, my breath catching, and then I shattered again. Wave after wave rolled through me, i was gasping for air, trembling beneath his mouth. I wasn’t in control anymore, and I didn’t want to be.

I thought I might get a break, but he climbed back on and slid back in, and started fucking me again. Slow, deep, deliberate. I knew he was on his edge too, and I was right. He ended up cumming on my stomach. 

We managed to took a short shower, without accident. 

Afterward, we collapsed onto the sofa as his bed was dirty from my juices. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so tired and sore. 

The shopping mall carpark

I thought I had trained Xav well enough to know exactly how to stimulate me, to read my body’s cues and respond accordingly. But the other day, when we went to watch movie, he proved to be both frustrating and thrilling in the most unexpected way.

From the moment we settled into our seats, he reached for me, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my thigh, a teasing caress that sent ripples of anticipation through my body. At first, I welcomed it, enjoying the slow, featherlight strokes, thinking he was only warming up before moving further. But as the minutes passed and the movie played on, I realized something infuriating.

No matter how much I shifted, no matter how obviously I spread my legs or guided his hand towards where I needed him most, he stubbornly refused to go any higher. His fingers remained fixed on my thigh, grazing, squeezing, stroking, but never crossing the threshold I was silently begging him to. It was maddening. Every time I attempted to encourage him, sliding his hand closer, he would simply chuckle under his breath, as if fully aware of my growing frustration.

The worst, or perhaps the best part was that his persistent teasing worked. My body responded helplessly, growing hotter and wetter with every passing moment. By the time the movie reached its climax, I was in my own private torment, so soaked that I could feel the cool dampness against my skin. I was wearing a decent denim shorts. My breath was uneven, my pulse erratic, and yet he acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

When the credits rolled and the lights came up, he finally withdrew his hand, leaving me there, flustered and aching. He stood up, stretched, and carried on as if he hadn’t just driven me to the brink of madness. The audacity. I wanted to call him out on it, to demand an explanation, but I held back, too aware of the lingering heat between my thighs and the way my body still pulsed with unsatisfied need.

It wasn’t until we got back to the car that things took an unexpected turn. As soon as the doors closed, he started by gently caressing my neck, tracing his fingers along my collarbone, and then slowly moved down to my breasts(I was wearing a normal tee and bra). He knew exactly how to touch me, the grabbing and how to make me shiver with anticipation. I could feel my nipples harden under his touch, and I couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

He then moved his hand lower, tracing the button of my shorts and band of my thong before slipping his fingers beneath it. I gasped as his fingers brushed against pubic area then my clit, already swollen and sensitive from the earlier teasing. He began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, and I could feel my arousal growing.

I reached for his hand, trying to guide it lower, but he resisted, keeping his focus on my clit. I whimpered in frustration, wanting more, needing more. I tried to spread my legs wider, to give him better access, but he simply pulled his hand away, leaving me aching and desperate.

After a while, he finally relented, slipping his fingers lower and sliding one inside me. I gasped at the feeling and my body clenching around him. He began to move his fingers in and out, slowly at first, and then faster, building up a rhythm that had me moaning and writhing in the seat.

I attempted to reach for his dick, wanting to feel him, but he caught my hand and shook his head and I whined in protest. He just grinned, continuing to fuck me with his fingers, driving me higher and higher.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. As soon as he inserted the 2nd finger, with some intense rubbing on my G-spot, I came with a cry, my body shuddering and shaking as the orgasm tore through me.

I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard. It was like something inside me unlocked. My whole body tightened, not in pain, but in this overwhelming tension that demanded release. The pleasure wasn’t just localized, it spread, radiating through my thighs, my chest, even up into my fingertips. 

My muscles clenched rhythmically, especially deep inside, where he was still pressing and stroking. I couldn’t control it; my hips bucked, my legs trembled, and I felt like I was being unraveled from the inside out.

What made it even more intense was that he didn’t stop. He kept going and his fingers moving just the way I needed them to. It was almost too much. My body kept reacting, spasming around him, and I found myself gasping, unable to catch my breath. I could feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes, not from pain, but from sheer overstimulation. 

It wasn’t just one orgasm. It kept rolling, looping over itself. My brain fogged over, and for a moment, I wasn’t thinking. I could felt palpitation but all I could do was hold on as wave after wave rolled through me. It was the kind of orgasm that leaves you limp, breathless, and completely undone.

As i finally catch my breath, he lower my seat, and came on top of me. As he leaned in close and we kissed, I knew he was finally going to give me what I needed. He unzipped his pants, freeing his cock, and I reached for it eagerly. After pulling on the standby condom, I guided his dick towards my entrance. I shall not continue the details here but we all in all, he went soft after the 2nd round, after cumming on my pubic area. 

We collapsed back against the seat, both of us panting and gasping for breath. We rested for a while before he tidy back his clothing while I was still trying to relax my tension. Ends up, my tit was still exposed and shorts was still missing, as we drove off the gantry.