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@gentle-sadist2
New blog, same shadow.
41, calm voice, sharp mind
Name: says enough
Location: cold, rainy, fucked up
Blog: not made for the masses
18+ only or I’ll block you.
I see more than I say.
Ask, if you must. I don’t chase.
Backup-Account
The trick is to stay curious longer than fear can keep you still. Fear always sounds reasonable when it wants to make a cage feel safe. Ask one more question. Take one more step. That is usually where the old version of you starts dying.
I like to turn you on in public, watching your needy little face while you try to fight me, but at the end, you can’t avoid the way your body reacts and still act innocent like nothing happened.
Can i message you ? I need advice on something and I dont wanna type it all here
Interesting. Do I just look like someone people confess things to?
What’s your favorite kind of mask to wear? Just curious.
The one that makes people think they’ve figured me out.
rub me through my jeans until both of us know you are not just teasing anymore. Keep looking innocent while your palm keeps getting slower, firmer, worse. I want to see the exact second you stop pretending you can wait. Open my jeans, take my cock out, feel how hard you made me, and let that make you even needier. Stroke it with your little hand, lick around the tip, taste the precum, spit on it, smear it down my shaft, then suck me like your self-control died quietly beside your friends.
There is a moment where shame stops looking like shame and starts looking like need. That is the moment I want from you. Eyes glossy, lips parted, hips shaking, body soaked, realizing your little good girl mask was never purity. It was fear of being found out.
For the ones who stopped calling it exhaustion and started calling it personality. Carrying everything alone does not make you stronger forever. Eventually it just becomes the only way you know how to exist. Until someone takes the weight without asking for a reward. That is not weakness. That is the first time your body believes it might survive without armor.
She loves being cradled like a small thing, then she wants me to fuck her hard until she surrenders and drips
They see the polished version. The pretty dress, the calm face, the soft arrogance of a woman who has been desired too often to be impressed by it. They see her and think she would never lower herself. I know better. I know the sound she makes when her pride breaks. I know how she looks with mascara down her cheeks, my cock in her throat, her body trembling because she wants to be used harder than she admits. She wants to taste my cum. She wants it messy. She wants it humiliating. Then, when her body is empty and her mind is quiet, she wants my hand in her hair and my chest under her cheek.
Some girls want roses on the table. Some want your hand around their throat and the humiliating truth whispered against their ear.
Not a kink. A different kind of closeness. Quiet trust. Still hands. A body that stops bracing because it knows the control will not turn cruel. Some people do not want to be taken apart. They want to stop guarding the pieces.
