I recline back against the plush headboard, black hair spilling across the white pillowcase. The crimson silk of my nightgown clings to my curves, emphasizing the swell of my breasts and the slight convexity of my hips. A quiet moan escapes my lips as I gaze down at myself, the gentle rise and fall of my chest a tantalizing harbinger of the need coursing through my veins.
It’s that time of the month again – the pinnacle of my power, the peak of my dominance. My pussy throbs with each beat of my heart, the familiar ache a siren’s call to the men who dare to cross my path. They think they can handle me, that they can tame the beast within. But I know better. Only the most determined, the most desperate, will rise to the challenge.
And oh, how I crave their desperation. The way they tremble as they catch the coppery tang of my arousal, the dazed look in their eyes as they part my thighs to worship at the altar of my cunt. It’s a perverse thrill, knowing that they’re addicted to the taste of my menstrual blood, that they’d do anything to have a moment alone with my pussy.
The door creaks open, and I lift my gaze to watch the figure step into my bedroom. He’s tall, lanky, with a mop of unkempt brown hair and a hunger in his eyes that’s almost palpable. It’s clear he’s been chosen, that he’s willing to play by my rules.
“Come here,” I purr, beckoning him closer with a curl of my finger. He approaches with a feral intensity, his hands shaking as he reaches for the hem of my nightgown. With a deft tug, he bares my cunt to his eager gaze, and I let out a gasp of pleasure as the cool air kisses my swollen lips.
He doesn’t hesitate, diving between my thighs with a grunt of desire. His tongue is a fervent explorer, delving into my folds with a desperation that’s both intoxicating and terrifying. I can feel him salivating, his mouth coating my sensitive flesh with a slick layer of need. It’s a heady sensation, knowing that he’s consumed by his hunger for me, that he’ll do anything to taste the very essence of my womanhood.
He devours me with abandon, his fingers digging into the flesh of my hips as he fucks his face against my cunt. I can feel the building pressure, the coiling tension that signals my impending climax. With a guttural moan, I let go, my orgasm crashing over me in a wave of white-hot ecstasy.
As I come down from my high, I gaze down at the man sprawled across my bed, chest heaving and face streaked with a mix of blood and saliva. His eyes are hazy with lust, his lips curled into a dazed, blissful smile. In that moment, I know that he’s mine, that he’ll do whatever it takes to earn his place by my side.
And as I slip from the bed, nightgown rustling against my skin, I can already feel the anticipation building for our next encounter. After all, a woman’s power is limitless, and I intend to wield mine to the fullest extent.
Rhea Stephens
888-750-4746 ext 868
https://thesincenter.com/rhea