That dimly lit ritual chamber. Velvet shadows. Incense thick. My heart hammered wild. I stood before her, the Guardian. Old woman, seated low. Eyes locked on me. No escape now. Pudeur clung like my black briefs. I dropped pants slow. Her hand reached for the bulge. I shied back, stallion-fierce. She smiled faint. Game on….
Monday, 1 PM sharp, I rang the bell at Charlotte’s door in my small town. Heart hammering like a drum. Twenty kilos overweight, libido shot from croissants and chocolate binges. Tennis coach’s video crushed me. Needed escape, not sex. Just a massage. Tantric, naturist. 200 euros for an hour, manual finish. Not cheating, right? Door…
The basement of the family couture house in Paris’s 6th arrondissement. Dim light filters through a high window. Everyone gone. Five o’clock. My heart hammers. J. told me to stay. No turning back now. Stomach twists—fear, thrill. The morning grope in the supply store replays: his body pinning mine between shelves, hands gripping my waist,…
Paris hotel room. Late June evening. My hand trembles on Damien’s door. Heart hammers. I clutch the small box—the nipple jewels he gave me. Meant to return it. End this weird tension. But my body’s buzzing from trying them earlier. Alone. Nipples hardening as I slid the hoops on. Weight tugging. Mirror staring back a…