Thanks To All My Followers And Especially My Mutuals For 1500 I Hope You All Enjoy This Little Treat

Thanks to all my followers and especially my mutuals for 1500 🖤 I hope you all enjoy this little treat from me and @bewitchedbaddi3

This is by far the highest compliment I could’ve asked for 💛💛💛

What celeb would you say your man looks like?

If Pete Davidson taught Liam Hemsworth how to dress and picked his tattoos that would be my husband. Like a skinny, American, inner city queer punk, Liam Hemsworth.

Just looking for some feedback on what you guys want to see most out of my blog, thanks in advance 🖤

Does fucking you until you pass out from cumming too many times and then continuing after count as intox or somno? Asking for a friend

My girlfriend has always said she’s a sub, but she never wants to be submissive with me. Any idea why that would be?

A partner’s submission is something you’ve got to earn. You have to build a ton of trust and intimacy in order for someone submit, and to submit fully. If there’s something stopping her from being vulnerable with you, the best thing you can do is ask her about it and discuss it openly so you can try to make her feel more comfortable. Also, don’t force being a “daddy dom” the way a lot of blogs on here do, it can come off as quite cringe and a caricature of domination if you’re not experienced.

Redirecting Your Focus:

You’re sitting in the armchair in your living room, idly aware of the sounds of the TV in the background as you read your novel. It’s an 800 page brick of non-fiction covering a small period of French history that you’ve been tearing into since you got it at the beginning of the week, after you’d finished another massive tome on the Ottoman Empire. Sometimes you could get so lost in your books, that you forgot all about the world around you. But that hunger for knowledge, the absolute need to simply absorb every piece of information about history, or anthropology, or philosophical theory you could was something you’d carried with you from a young age and never been able to shake, even if it did get in the way of nearly everything else in your life a whole lot of the time.

The sound of a soft clink on the accent table next to you brings you back to reality, and you see your boyfriend, quietly setting down a cup of tea for you before lying down on the couch next to your chair and beginning to flip through channels. He’s so understanding, never begrudging you for spending hours upon hours, or even an entire night sometimes engrossed in a book. Not like your old boyfriends, who complained about you not wanting to go out enough, or trying to feel you up while you were trying to learn something new. No, he’s happy just to bring you a cup of tea, and occupy himself quietly in your company. You couldn’t have asked for any better, really.

You take a quick sip of the tea, eyes not budging from your page, and idly notice that it’s noticeably sweet, almost floral, not like the chamomile or earl grey you typically keep stocked in the cabinet. Had he gone out and bought his own? You don’t wonder for long, your train of thought carried away following line after line of small-print text.

As you sit there in your chair, trying to process and memorize the countless names and dates in your reading materiel, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, quickly brought to the point of nearly sweating. You pull off your sweater and tie your hair back into a ponytail to keep it off of your shoulders, and try to go back to focusing on the book. After a few more pages, a drop of liquid hits the page, smudging the ink, causing the letters to bleed into one another. Are you sweating so much that you’re literally dripping onto your book? No…suddenly you’re aware that your mouth is hanging open, and a slow, thin stream of drool is trickling off of your lips and down your chin. Another drip hits the page, causing the ink to bleed, blurring a few more words together, and you find that even the dry parts of the page are starting to look a little bit blurry too. Your…your head feels blurry. Your thoughts feel blurry. Muffled and far away, your boyfriend’s voice calls out to you, “More tea, honey?”

You don’t even really process what he’d said, but your body responds, and your hands, feeling somewhat numb and not totally your own, reach over and pick up the teacup, putting it to your lips. You take a deeper drink of the tea this time, and its floral notes feel potent somehow, intoxicating even. As you gently place the teacup back onto the table, you feel the drool leaking from your mouth like a faucet, covering your breasts and leaving them glistening in the lamplight. What…what’s happening? You glance over to your boyfriend, slightly alarmed at the state you’re suddenly in, but he’s not looking at you, he’s watching the TV, and when you try to speak up to get his attention, the sound that comes out is far from words, instead a whiney, high pitched, “Nnnghhhh”. You’re alarmed by how petulant you sound, like a child begging for a toy at the store, not a tone you’d ever normally use for anything. But the panic at your inability to form words seems overpowered by a need, a hunger even, coming from somewhere deep in your mind, to fill your mouth with something. Something big. Something warm.

Your heavy book clatters to the floor, and you follow it soon after, dropping to your knees, your entire body shaking with need and desire. Spit trickles to the hardwood floor below you, and you crawl towards the couch, small, soft whines escaping your lips every few seconds. It feels like agony, your wet, warm mouth being so empty, all your spit going to waste all over the floor. Your boyfriend looks down at you, a calm smile on his face, and begins to unbuckle his pants. You need his cock to fill your empty, empty mouth, more than anything, and you need what’s inside his cock to flood your empty, empty throat. You need the sensation of his hand on your head, guiding you, to fill your aching, empty mind. You can feel that you’ve soaked through your panties and are beginning to leak through your leggings now too, they’re sticking to you as you rub your wet, warm thighs together, desperate for any friction at all to alleviate the absolute ache between your legs. As his cock springs free from his boxers, you moan out loud, the mere sight of it enough to lessen the begging in your mind, and cause the wet warmth between your legs to grow hotter and more intense. You can wait no longer, you engulf his cock into your mouth, absorbing his length down your throat, soaking it in your spit and wrapping it in your warmth. You feel full, you feel good, you feel content. You let an idle hand drift between your legs, and your leggings are so thin and wet that you can rub yourself straight through them. You moan onto the cock filling your mouth, filling your throat, filling your mind, a steady, “Mmmm….mmmmm…..mmmm” as you bob up and down, strands of spit soaking your neck and your tits, lubricating your entire body for the cock that’s fucking the thoughts right out of your head.

No thoughts left, just a warm, wet ache that sends a warm, numb pleasure shivering through your entire body when you satisfy it by pushing your master’s warm, throbbing cock further and further down your warm, wet throat. A voice getting further and further away know that there’ll be no going back once you suck out all of his thick, warm cum. You can only let out a muffled moan onto the thick, warm cock throbbing and twitching between your lips, a moan that confirms that to be unable to go back is all you could hope for. “Nnnnghhhhh…..mmmmmm…..nnnnnggghh”