Written With Wet Fingers
The mirror in my bedroom is still fogged up from the shower I took two hours ago, but I can still see my reflection clearly enough to know I look like pure fucking sin tonight. Hair like molten copper spilling over my shoulders, nipples already hard against the thin black lace bralette that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide them. Thighs glistening from the coconut oil I rubbed in earlier because I knew—I fucking knew—I was going to be spreading them wide before the night was over.
I’m already soaked. Not “a little wet.” Not “damp.” Drenched. The kind of slick that makes my thong useless, the kind that leaves a dark wet spot on the sheets before anyone even touches me. I love that part. The evidence. The proof that my cunt is greedy and shameless and has been thinking about cock since I woke up this morning.
Tonight’s menu is simple:
My favorite thick dildo (the one with the suction cup I can ride against the headboard)
The new rose toy that makes me scream in under ninety seconds
My fingers (because I’m a greedy bitch who likes to taste herself while I’m getting wrecked)
Whatever stranger slides into my DMs with the right level of filth and the audacity to call me “good girl” while telling me exactly how he’s going to ruin me
I don’t do slow starts anymore. I’m not in the mood for teasing. I want to be used. I want the kind of fuck that leaves my lipstick smeared across someone’s shaft, my mascara running, my throat raw, my thighs shaking, my pussy swollen and dripping someone else’s cum down the inside of my leg while I’m still begging for more.
I love being called a slut. I love hearing it hissed against my ear while a hand is wrapped around my throat. I love when they say it like an insult and I moan louder because it’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.
Last weekend I let two guys take turns while I was bent over the hotel balcony railing. City lights below, wind whipping my hair, one cock in my mouth, one stretching my cunt so wide I could feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse. When the first one came inside me, the second one pushed in right after—didn’t even wait for me to stop clenching. Just fucked his friend’s load deeper while I whimpered around the dick in my throat. I came so hard I almost blacked out. Still think about it when I touch myself.
I’m not “a nice girl who’s a little naughty.” I’m a redheaded cock-hungry whore who gets off on being obscene. I want the neighbors to know my name. I want the Uber driver to smell sex on me when I climb in at 3 a.m. I want the barista to notice the bite marks on my neck and wonder who put them there.
So yeah. If you’re reading this and your hand is already between your legs… good. That’s exactly where I want you. Stroke it to the thought of me riding reverse cowgirl so you can watch my ass bounce while my pussy grips you like it’s trying to milk you dry. Imagine my green eyes locked on yours while I tell you to “fuck me like you hate me.” Because I can take it. I want it.
And when you’re done? When you’ve spilled every drop thinking about this dripping, moaning, insatiable redhead slut?
Come tell me. In detail. The dirtier the better.
I’ll be waiting. Fingers already inside. Counting down the seconds until the next time someone tries (and fails) to satisfy me.
— Enya 💋 (Still dripping. Still not sorry.)