Bruised Knees For Her

kink dump

[d-3-v-0-ur]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[sobsicle]

mwah 😘

[lapinprincesse09]

i'm a handful

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[xbruisedkneesforher]

[herdepraved-thoughts]

We have the filthiest sex while she’s confessing the dirtiest things, the fantasies she's desperate for. She never names anyone. When I try to get her to tell me who she was fantasizing about, she brushes it off as just role-play.  But I can't shake the feeling she’s thinking about a friend of mine that she likes. 

It's in the detail she let slips. Traits that match him too perfectly. The way her eyes glaze over as if she’s lost memory I'm not part of. The small pauses, the hesitation, as if she's on the edge of saying something she shouldn't. And the hunger in her voice, a tone that feels too real to be just role-play. It’s subtle, but every time, my mind wonders if he’s the one filling her thoughts.

[herdepraved-thoughts]

"Clear your schedule." Her eyes stayed on her screen. "Tonight."

He had been her husband's assistant once. Now he was something more. Something personal. He was hers. He kept house, drove the children, stayed for breakfast. The kids called him Uncle.

Whatever she needed, he provided. Sometimes she wanted more. "Bring your friend," she'd say. "Be discreet. He always was.

When her husband travelled like he often would, he was the one who filled the spaces between departures and returns—setting tables, running errands, keeping her satisfied.

Her husband called during dinner. She laughed into the phone, radiant. Across the table, her assistant buttered toast for the children.

When she hung up, her smile faded. "Upstairs. Ten minutes."

[herdepraved-thoughts]

Once in a while, it's nice to take a vacation away from my husband. Away from the weight of his temperaments, the subtle strain of tolerance. A few days to lose myself unrestrained. Whatever that makes me feel free. I return home composed, tender. Slipping back to being his perfect sweet ideal wife again.

[herdepraved-thoughts]

She comes home and collapses on the couch with a sigh. "That guy from accounting was at it again today," she says, scrolling through her phone. "I swear, he doesn't know when to quit."

You've heard about him before. The overly friendly comments, the lingering looks, how he always finds excuses to stop by her desk. She's told you a dozen times how much she can't stand him.

What she hasn't told you is that yesterday, when he leaned in close to look at her screen, his hand rested on her shoulder. And it slid lower. Over her chest. Feeling her. She felt her heart pound. She didn't push him away. She didn't say a word. She just stood there and let him.

She hasn't mentioned lying awake last night, as you slept beside her, replaying that moment in the dark. How the it spiraled somewhere she knew it shouldn't. How she found herself touching herself to the thought of it, even as the disgust and guilt filled her.

[xbruisedkneesforher]