he/him, straight, cis male, born in 1984 Consent is non-negotiable, trigger warnings for degradation, humiliation, pain play. This blog is for fun, and some fantasies should stay firmly in fantasy.
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Fun Fact
The “We are the 99%” Tumblr blog became the slogan for the Occupy Wall Street movement.
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I love the concept of mounting toys for subs.
Like you’re just a pussy to be mounted and used. Not a person, just a fake sex toy.
Mostly likely you’ll be tied up and unable to move, just immobile and helpless with your holes on display.
The dom doesn’t even consider your pleasure placing his hands on you and grabbing you in the best position for him. Maybe he holds your hips, maybe he roughly grabs your tits maybe he straddles you in the easiest position he can find quickly.
He uses you like he’d use his fleshlight to masturbate. Grunting softly and bucking his hips as he jerks his cock off inside your hole.
“Mmmmm” “mmmmm”
Grunting and fucking faster and faster as he gets closer to the edge.
“Mmm” “mmm” “mmm” “oh yeah” “oh yeah” “oh yeah”
No regard for how you feel, just groping you and holding you tight as he completely mounts your helpless hole and thrusts his cock over and over.
And then he gets to the edge and you feel his body tense and change. Unloading his cum deep inside you or on to your body.
“Oh fuck!” “Oh fuck!” “Fuck yeah” “mmmmmmm”
Wank complete.
Totally ignoring you covered or filled with cum as he walks away to the bathroom to clean up.
Meanwhile you’re just a helpless mounting toy, tied up tight for next time…
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i just want him to completely let go of himself while he fucks me.
forget that i’m anything more than an object to be used, make me squirm and whine as he just thrusts into me relentlessly, him pushing me into the mattress and pulling my hips closer so he can just make it go deeper.
i want him to focus on nothing but his pleasure, whatever he has to do to satisfy every unspoken urge.
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WHEN ON PERIOD:
do not crash out
your feelings are NOT valid
do not send that text
don't kill yourself. lock in
do not act on negative emotions until at least 2 days have elapsed
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well 🧍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
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Would be cool to pay a subscription to used someone’s pussy from wherever you are. Like your at work and you put a cock ring on that teleports your cock to which ever pussy your subscribed too. You’re at work while she’s driving home meanwhile your rock hard boner is stretching her insides and no one knows. ❤️
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I do not remember taking my supplements this morning so I might be taking a double dose of it today. Here’s to hoping they don’t do something drastic like give me rapidly growing, milk-engorged udders. That would be so hot terrible!
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The thing about magical items is they’re so easy to abuse.
Marcella was learning that quickly. She’d first bought the pen in an antique store, owned it for years and thought nothing of it.
It was during a house party, when she drank too much and passed out on her couch, that one of her friends used it to write dumb slut on her face.
Mean spirited, but hardly the end of the world…until Marcella woke up with a blank, glassy look in her eyes.
Her boyfriend thought she might have had a stroke. She was giggling, bouncing her tits, reaching for his crotch…he was on the verge of calling for an ambulance, when, as an afterthought, wiped the writing off her cheek. His thoughtful, caring girlfriend had been replaced by an empty-headed bimbo.
Her pupils returned to normal, hands falling away from groping herself, mouth closing as her usual mindset reasserted itself.
Almost her usual mindset. Neither of them realized it, but the change left a permanent mark in her personality. She was just a little more sexually open, a little slower on the uptake.
It wasn’t long before she discovered the pen could make body changes, too. The first test was big tits, written across her cleavage, in a lust-filled move as she walked up to the bedroom.
Would she have done that before she used the pen, part of her wondered. But at that moment her tits felt too good to care.
Both her and her boyfriend had watched, enraptured, as her growing breasts overflowed her nightgown, stopping only when they snapped one of the shoulder straps.
Big tits took her up to a full double J cup. Trust me, she measured them. Very thoroughly.
Huge tits made her too big for bras. She grew a pair of enormous lap-fillers, just small enough to reach her arms around comfortably.
Gigantic tits she hadn’t tried yet. Maybe for a special occasion…but it was tempting. The old her would never have fantasized about being that big…
Who cared if none of her regular bras fit anymore? They were just slowing her down.
Dumb slut, busty bimbo, pretty toy…words she started to use every weekend. To relieve work stress. Craving that feeling of blissful emptiness, to lose herself in pleasure.
Who cares if she was always wet now? It just made nights even more fun.
Today, Marcella wanted to try something new. Hefting her trusty pen, frowning when she tried to remember the letter order- did the old her remember how to do that?- before clumsily writing Milk Me in large, blocky letters.
The change was immediate. Just like sliding into a warm bath, or maybe dragging her nipples across fabric…
She didn’t hesitate to touch them, feeling her teats thicken and darken between her fingers. Marcella had barely registered her breast growth, gradual as it was over a dozen transformations…but she had never lactated before. The first wet drops on her hands eliciting a pleasurable gasp as sensations coursed through her, an electric tingling starting at the base of her udders and moving quickly to the swollen nipples.
Marcella glanced at the clock. Udders…now that was a word she could try next. And she still had an entire half hour before her boyfriend came home…
Already she was pulling and tugging them, each successive drop of milk larger and creamier, her moans lengthening and becoming deeper.
It wasn’t long before thick splashes of dairy decorated her counters, the brand new cow swaying her hips happily as she uttered her first-
“Mooooooo!”
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