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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #9 (Riley): The Wake-up Sex My Husband Never Knew How To Give Me (I’ll Never Forget That Morning.)

There’s something about morning sex that hits different. Not just the body stuff—the heat, the urgency, the sweat—but the *why* behind it. The craving. The quiet rebellion. This confession starts with a lazy “What you up to?” text and ends with someone glowing through their entire work shift.

But underneath the sweat and sass is something deeper: a woman in a sexless marriage, a woman who’s tired of being invisible, a woman who finally says *fuck it* and takes her pleasure back. It’s messy, it's raw, it's real—and yeah, it’s hot. But it also forces you to ask: what happens when your emotional hunger starts showing up as physical need?

When being ignored by the one who "loves" you drives you into the arms—and the apartment—of someone who actually wants you? Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe it’s just human. Either way, she made it to work on time. And I promise, after hearing this one, you’ll never look at a morning routine the same again.

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

Real Quick: Ever wonder why some women effortlessly command attention while others get sidelined? It’s not about looks—it’s about tapping into the subconscious triggers that make men need you. Discover the missing piece in your love life here 👉 https://selar.com/30i571

---

<<And now the confession!>>

---

Sève Noire: [deep, velvety voice] Riley… welcome to Confession of the Flesh. You’ve got that glint in your eye, the kind that tells me this story’s still tingling in your skin.

Riley: [laughs softly] You’re not wrong, Sève. Even now, thinking about it makes me feel like I’ve got a secret tucked under my blouse.

Sève Noire: Mm. I live for those kinds of secrets. And from what you teased in your submission—morning sex before work, a side dish named Billy, and a husband who’s… absent, shall we say? Sounds like you’ve got a tale that hums with tension. So, Riley—where do we begin?

Riley: I was sitting in my car, right? Cigarette in hand, usual routine before I punch in. My phone buzzed. It was Billy. Just ‘What you up to?.’

Sève Noire: [groans playfully] Oh no, not a “What you up to?” man.

Riley: Exactly! Lazy texting is the emotional equivalent of limp dick energy. But still… that man had history with me. Heat. So I replied.

Sève Noire: You chose to reply. That matters.

Riley: I did. Even though I wanted more than that text, I wanted him more. My life had been… God, let’s call it what it is—sexless. My husband and I? Drier than a nun’s sock drawer.

Sève Noire: Brutal. But honest. So you replied. And then?

Riley: He dropped his address. Said we had “plenty of time.” I had thirty minutes to spare before work. I could’ve laughed at the sheer audacity. But my body… my body was already halfway there. I was wet before I even turned the ignition.

Sève Noire: You wanted to be wanted. Not just looked at or tolerated. Desired. Urgently.

Riley: Exactly. And Billy? He had that young man hunger, like he’d skipped breakfast and I was his full spread. So I showed up.

Sève Noire: Tell me about that moment. At the door. When he saw you.

Riley: He looked stunned. Like he’d ordered a fantasy and it had arrived faster than Amazon Prime. He started to say, “Wow, I didn’t think you’d actually…” but I shut him up with a kiss.

Sève Noire: Mm. Dominance. You weren’t there to flirt. You were there to devour.

Riley: That’s right. He lifted me like I was weightless. I could feel his cock pressed against me through my skirt—thankfully, I’d left my panties in the car.

Sève Noire: [low chuckle] Strategic decision?

Riley: [laughing] Let’s call it… hopeful.

Sève Noire: So what happened next?

Riley: He kicked the door shut, practically slammed it with the force of our kiss. And then we didn’t even make it to a bed. He dropped me on the couch, spread my legs, and buried his face between them like a man on a desert island discovering a freshwater spring.

Sève Noire: [laughs, then softens] That’s a line, Riley. I felt that. Was it passionate? Or calculated?

Riley: Oh, passionate. Messy, needy, real. He kept saying something about “wanting to do this the other morning” but his tongue was doing all the talking I needed. His beard? Heaven. His finger? Found the spot like it owed me money.

Sève Noire: You sound… almost shocked. Were you?

Riley: I was. Billy wasn’t some long-term lover or expert seducer. He was just… there. Present. Giving. And I hadn’t had that in so long. My husband? He’s full of excuses. Too tired. Too stressed. But never too tired for drinks with the boys.

Sève Noire: That part, Riley… that bitterness in your voice. That tells me this wasn’t just about pleasure. There’s pain too.

Riley: Of course there is. I love him—or I did. But love isn’t a waiting room where you sit forever hoping someone will come back and see you. Eventually, you walk out.

Sève Noire: So you took Billy’s cock as a form of reclamation.

Riley: Exactly. I told him I didn’t have time for more foreplay and mounted him like I was born to ride.

Sève Noire: Oof. You took the moment.

Riley: I did. His face? Confused at first. But I told him—we were past that. Past pretending this was about sweet nothings.

Sève Noire: Tell me how it felt—physically. You don’t have to sanitize it for me.

Riley: It was stretching. Full. Like I was made to be filled by that cock. Every rock of my hips sent shockwaves through me. His pubic bone grinding my clit. My own hand pressing on my belly to push his shaft deeper against my g-spot. I was chasing the orgasm like it owed me backpay.

Sève Noire: [murmurs] Damn. And what about him? Was he just along for the ride?

Riley: He tried to talk dirty—called it “my clitoral cake.” I had to shut him up with a hand over his mouth. [laughs] Cute, but I didn’t need words. I needed pressure.

Sève Noire: I’m smiling, but also—this is deeper than lust, Riley. This is you taking back your voice. Your pleasure. Am I right?

Riley: You are. For once, I wasn’t thinking about bills, or deadlines, or who left dishes in the sink. It was just me, on top of this cock, eyes closed, body buzzing, completely in my power.

Sève Noire: Were you afraid? Not of being caught—but of what it meant?

Riley: [quiet for a beat] Maybe. Maybe I knew it meant something was ending. That I couldn’t go back to pretending I was satisfied with my home life. Billy wasn't love. He was truth. The messy, slippery, gasping truth of what I missed.

Sève Noire: And then? The ending. Walk me through it.

Riley: I came first. Loud. Shaking. Moaning things I can’t even remember. He followed seconds later, and I had to roll him off me and hiss, “Not inside!” He pulled out just in time, came all over my mound. It was… warm, messy, primal.

Sève Noire: And then?

Riley: I cleaned up. I didn’t kiss him goodbye. Just fixed my hair, buttoned my shirt, and left. Made it to work with three minutes to spare and a glow that didn’t leave my face until sundown.

Sève Noire: Riley… this is one of the most… layered confessions I’ve heard. It’s lust, sure. But it’s also rage, rebellion, release.

Riley: Yeah. It wasn’t about Billy. Not really. It was about me—waking up. Realizing I’d gone numb in my own skin.

Sève Noire: And have you talked to your husband about all this?

Riley: No. I think I’m afraid he won’t care. Or worse—he’ll say he does and change for a week before drifting back to the man who sees me as furniture.

Sève Noire: That’s a painful place to be. But you’ve started something here. Even if it was sweaty and illegal in some states.

Riley: [laughs] It was wrong. But it felt so right. And not because of Billy’s cock—though, my God, that man’s blessed—but because I felt alive.

Sève Noire: Would you do it again?

Riley: With Billy? Probably not. But with me? Yes. I’m not going back to numb. I want messy. Wild. Real.

Sève Noire: Then maybe that glow your customers noticed… wasn’t just post-orgasmic. Maybe it was resurrection.

Riley: [quiet] I think it was.

Sève Noire: Riley, thank you for your honesty. For letting us into that car, that apartment, your body. But most of all—your truth. And for anyone listening who’s forgotten what it feels like to burn... maybe they needed this confession too.

Riley: Thank you, Sève. For letting me say it without shame.

Sève Noire: Always. Until next time, lovers. Stay tangled, stay honest, and above all… stay flesh.

---

Check this out:

1) What if revenge came in a woman's form? Mama Zola, a quiet security guard, is done watching Douala's untouchable men get away with murder. When justice fails a brutalized young woman, Mama emerges from the darkness - taser in hand. But in a city where influence is currency... how far can one avenger go? Follow her crusade here 👉 https://selar.com/74gwtp

2) Ever wonder why some women effortlessly command attention while others get sidelined? It’s not about looks—it’s about tapping into the subconscious triggers that make men need you. Discover the missing piece in your love life here 👉 https://selar.com/30i571

This confession is brought to you by: SÈVE NOIRE DE TONGA.

New confessions and stories are shared daily on our page. If you enjoy them, we'd truly appreciate your sharing with others who might love them too.

Join Tagobe JOY's WhatsApp channel to never miss our latest stories, chapters, announcements and more! Here's the link 👉 https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbAfF3r2ZjCor7tQjK24

To message us on WhatsApp, click here 👉 https://wa.me/message/3R53ZLZARD6ED1

Discover more captivating stories in our full catalog here 👉 https://selar.com/m/tagobe-joy

TAGOBE JOY: Let's enjoy life a lot more with awesome stories ❤️‍🔥.

God Bless 🙏.

#intimate #romantic couple #touch #confession #confess your sins #intimacy #desire #passion #couple #intense

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #8 (Jody): My Boss Owns Me - In More Ways Than One

We all know that feeling, right? That little thrill when someone powerful pays you attention. Maybe it's harmless, a bit of flirting, a compliment that lingers. But what happens when that power goes beyond the office? When it bleeds into something… else?

This story, it's about that line. That blurry, dangerous line where control and desire get tangled up. It's about a woman, a boss, and a game that gets played in the shadows of wealth and influence. It's raw, it's messy, and yeah, it's gonna make you squirm a bit.

Because let's be real, power turns us on. It's a primal thing. We crave it, we fear it, and sometimes, we surrender to it. But what happens when surrender isn't just in the bedroom? What happens when it's in the boardroom, too?

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

---

<<And now the confession!>>

---

Jody: Sève Noire, thank you for inviting me to Confessions of the Flesh. I'm… honestly, I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything that's happened. It's been a complete upheaval of my life.

Sève Noire: (Warmly) Jody, darling, the pleasure is all mine. Your story has all the hallmarks of a classic "Confessions" episode: power, mystery, and a healthy dose of the unexpected. So, let's dive in, shall we? This Dominic Fabreau… he sounds like a force of nature. Paint me a vivid picture. What was your first impression?

Jody: (Sighs) "Force of nature" is an understatement. It was… intense. Imagine walking headfirst into a solid wall, except the wall is impeccably dressed and has the most mesmerizing eyes. Deep, dark brown, like pools of liquid chocolate. I swear, Sève Noire, I could have drowned in them. One moment I'm walking into the office, the next I'm sprawled on the floor, and this… this god is extending a hand to help me up.

Sève Noire: (Chuckles) A dramatic entrance, indeed. So, not exactly your typical office meet-cute? More like a meet-and-collide? And those eyes… you keep coming back to his eyes. What was it about them that captivated you so?

Jody: It wasn't just the color, it was the intensity. Like he was looking right through me, seeing every secret thought I'd ever had. And then he speaks, this voice, smooth and rich, like melted chocolate, and he charms me completely. And then he drops the bomb: he's Dominic Fabreau, the new owner of Opulence. My new boss.

Sève Noire: (Raises an eyebrow) The new boss is a devastatingly handsome billionaire with a voice that could melt glaciers. Jody, my dear, you've stumbled into quite the erotic power fantasy, haven't you? Were you instantly intrigued, or was there a healthy dose of intimidation mixed in?

Jody: Oh, both. Definitely both. There was this immediate… attraction, this undeniable pull. But also, this sense of being… observed, assessed. And then there's the power dynamic. He's my boss, he's incredibly wealthy, and he just… exudes control.

Sève Noire: Control is a recurring theme, it seems. Tell me more about that. It manifests in his words, his actions?

Jody: It's in everything he does. At the club, Insub… Kathy, my friend, practically dragged me there. It's this exclusive place, known for its… ahem… more adventurous clientele. We shouldn't have even gotten in, but then Dominic appears, puts his arm around my waist like he's claiming me.

Sève Noire: (Gasps softly) Claiming you, you say? In public? That's a bold move, even for a man of his stature. And Insub… isn't that place rumored to have a rather… decadent underground scene?

Jody: (Blushing) It has a reputation. He gets us past the bouncer, no questions asked, and leads us to a private booth. Six drinks later, Kathy's off dancing, and Dominic has me alone in this secluded space. And then he tells me to call him Dominic. Not a request, Sève Noire, but an order.

Sève Noire: (Leans forward, eyes gleaming) An order. The dynamic is shifting, isn't it? The boss-employee relationship is blurring, replaced by something… more charged. How did that make you feel, Jody? Did it ignite a spark of rebellion, or perhaps… something else?

Jody: (Hesitates) It was… a jolt. A little scary, but undeniably thrilling. Like a forbidden invitation.

Sève Noire: (A knowing smile) The forbidden is often the most enticing, darling. And power, when wielded correctly, can be a potent aphrodisiac. Now, tell me about this dream… you mentioned a dream after that night?

Jody: (Voice drops) Oh, Sève Noire… it was so vivid, so intense. I was… restrained. Blindfolded. Helpless. And Dominic was there, his voice a low, husky purr, telling me I'd been "bad."

Sève Noire: (Intrigued) "Bad," you say? In what way were you "bad," my dear?

Jody: (Shivers) He… there was a cat-o'-nine-tails. The sensation of it… the sting, followed by the rush of heat… it was excruciating and… and arousing. I could feel my nipples harden, my breath hitch.

Sève Noire: (Voice husky) The delicate dance between pain and pleasure, Jody. A dangerous dance, but one that can be incredibly intoxicating in the right hands. Did you… experience pleasure in this dream? Be honest.

Jody: (Flustered) I… I moaned. I couldn't help myself. My body reacted instinctively.

Sève Noire: (A slow, deliberate nod) The body has its own language, darling, and it rarely lies. It seems your subconscious is exploring some… interesting desires. And then? What happened after the dream?

Jody: The next day, a package arrives. A stunning designer dress, and a note from him. An invitation to a gala, and an announcement that I'm the new Administrative Officer. Oh, and an AmEx Black Card (an exclusive American Express card reserved only for their highest-spending customers).

Sève Noire: (Gasps dramatically) An AmEx Black Card? Jody, my love, this man is not just controlling; he's incredibly generous. Or is it a form of… payment? A way to exert even more influence?

Jody: (Frowning slightly) I don't know. It felt… overwhelming. The dress, the promotion, the card… it was all happening so fast.

Sève Noire: A whirlwind romance, wrapped in silk and tied with a platinum bow. At the gala, you made quite the statement with your extravagant purchase of his painting. A hundred million dollars, was it?

Jody: (Shrugs) It was… impulsive. The painting was beautiful, but maybe I also wanted to test his reaction, to see how far I could push him.

Sève Noire: (Eyes gleaming) A woman who knows her worth and isn't afraid to wield her newfound power. I admire your boldness, Jody. And how did Dominic respond to your… lavish bid?

Jody: He invited me back to his mansion.

Sève Noire: (Gasps) The lion's den! What secrets were hidden within those walls?

Jody: It was… immaculate. Perfect. Almost sterile. Like a museum, not a home. And then he called me "good girl" again.

Sève Noire: (Voice laced with intrigue) "Good girl." Those two little words. Such simple syllables, yet they seem to hold a significant charge in his vocabulary. How did they affect you that time?

Jody: (Shivers) The same… visceral reaction. A strange mix of vulnerability and excitement. It's like he has a key to some hidden part of me.

Sève Noire: (Leans closer) And what is this part of you, Jody? Is it the part that craves structure? The part that longs to relinquish control?

Jody: I'm still trying to figure that out. But then… then there was the incident at the office. He inspected me. Over his desk.

Sève Noire: (Breathless) Jody! He… he's certainly not one for subtlety, is he? And you… you allowed this to happen?

Jody: (Voice barely a whisper) I did. He told me to bend over, and I obeyed. He lifted my dress, saw that I was wet, and then he… he slapped my rear. Hard.

Sève Noire: (Eyes widening) The audacity! The sheer dominance! And how did that make you feel, Jody? Were you outraged? Humiliated? Or was there a flicker of… something else?

Jody: (Looks down, a hint of a blush) There was… a strange sense of surrender. Acknowledgment. It was wrong, but… it felt right.

Sève Noire: (A slow, thoughtful nod) My dear, you're navigating a dangerous path. This man is clearly a master of control, and you seem drawn to his power. But is it healthy? Is it sustainable?

Jody: That's what I'm trying to figure out. He's offered me this incredible opportunity, this chance to reshape Opulence. But it's all tied to him, to his whims.

Sève Noire: And the dinner at Lieu de Prospér? That sounds like something out of a dream. Or perhaps a carefully orchestrated seduction?

Jody: It was… surreal. Another dress, another display of his wealth and power. And then he tells me, so casually, that I'll be his representative at events, that I'll be attending a press conference.

Sève Noire: (Intrigued) A press conference? Suddenly, you're thrust into the spotlight, representing his empire. Was that daunting? Exciting?

Jody: Both. Terrifying and exhilarating. And then, the press conference itself… that question about my promotion…

Sève Noire: (Eyes narrowing) That crude insinuation about your relationship with Dominic? How did that make you feel?

Jody: (Voice tight) Angry. Defensive. But then Mona, his assistant, stepped in. She defended me, but her words… they felt hollow.

Sève Noire: (Thoughtfully) So, you're caught in this web of power, desire, and ambition. He offers you opportunities, but at what cost? And then there's the invitation to the exclusive event at Insub…

Jody: (Shivers) Yes. Another layer of mystery, another step deeper into his world. I don't know what to expect, Sève Noire. It's exciting and terrifying all at once.

Sève Noire: (A soft smile) Jody, my dear, that's the essence of desire, isn't it? The thrill of the unknown, the allure of the forbidden. But remember, even in the midst of passion, your autonomy matters. Your boundaries matter.

Jody: I'm trying to hold onto that. But Dominic… he has this way of making me feel… alive. Like I'm finally experiencing the full spectrum of my own desires.

Sève Noire: (Nods slowly) Desire can be a powerful force, Jody. It can unlock hidden parts of ourselves, parts we never knew existed. Just remember to navigate this path with caution, with awareness. And always, always prioritize your own heart.

Jody: Thank you, Sève Noire. I will. This… this has been incredibly helpful.

Sève Noire: The pleasure was all mine, darling. And remember, here at Confessions of the Flesh, your secrets are safe, and your desires are valid. Until next time, my loves.

---

Check this out:

This confession is brought to you by: SÈVE NOIRE DE TONGA.

New confessions and stories are shared daily on our page. If you enjoy them, we'd truly appreciate your sharing with others who might love them too.

Join Tagobe JOY's WhatsApp channel to never miss our latest stories, chapters, announcements and more! Here's the link 👉 https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbAfF3r2ZjCor7tQjK24

To message us on WhatsApp, click here 👉 https://wa.me/message/3R53ZLZARD6ED1

Discover more captivating stories in our full catalog here 👉 https://selar.com/m/tagobe-joy

TAGOBE JOY: Let's enjoy life a lot more with awesome stories ❤️‍🔥.

God Bless 🙏.

#intimate #romantic couple #touch #intimacy #sexy hunk #confession #intense #passion #couple

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #7 (Sandra): I Slept With My Husband’s Father’s Best Friend—And I’d Do It Again If No One Ever Found Out

Some people cheat for love. Others cheat for revenge. But most? They cheat for attention. For that split-second spark where someone sees them—not the parent, not the partner, not the role they play—but them. Sandra’s story isn’t about falling in love.

It’s about falling back into her body after years of going unnoticed. About a married woman with a baby on her hip and a hunger she couldn’t name, until someone older, bolder, and completely off-limits looked at her like she was the main event.

What followed wasn’t romance—it was release. A moment of raw, messy, unforgettable honesty between two adults who knew the rules and still chose to break them. And before you judge? Ask yourself how long you could go without being touched like you matter.

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

---

<<And now the confession!>>

---

Sandra: …Hi. Um, I’m nervous. I’ve never told this to anyone the way I’m about to tell it now.

Sève Noire: [soft chuckle] Good. That means you’re in the right place. Welcome to Confession of the Flesh, Sandra. Take a breath. You’re safe here. No judgment. Just the truth—your truth.

Sandra: Thanks, Sève.

Sève Noire: Alright, so let's begin where you feel it matters most. What pulled you into this story you’re about to tell?

Sandra: I was 22. A young mom. Married. Lonely as hell. My husband, Aaron, worked all the time. Always tired. Always gone. I guess I felt like a... prop in his life. Useful, safe, routine.

Sève Noire: Mmm. That word—routine. So often the enemy of intimacy. Did you love him?

Sandra: I did. I do. In that quiet, safe way people think is enough. But I was changing. My body had changed after the baby. My needs had too. I was craving—connection, attention, desire. But mostly? I just wanted to be seen.

Sève Noire: That ache for visibility. It runs deeper than most realize. Who finally saw you?

Sandra: His father, actually. Not like that—at first. Aaron’s dad started taking me and the baby to church. Then one Sunday, he introduced me to Ronny. His friend. Mid-forties. Confident. Military vibe. He looked at me like I wasn’t invisible.

Sève Noire: And how did it feel—to be looked at that way?

Sandra: Like I’d been starving and someone slid a plate in front of me.

Sève Noire: [low whistle] That kind of hunger doesn’t lie. So… what was it about Ronny?

Sandra: He was bold. Unapologetic. The kind of man who’d ask, “Why are you living like this?” And not in a cruel way—well, maybe a little—but in a way that made me think. He made me feel like I deserved more.

Sève Noire: From your life, or from your marriage?

Sandra: [long pause] Both.

Sève Noire: So how does texting a man like Ronny become a night you never forget?

Sandra: It started slow. We’d talk about music. Old bands. Cooking. I’d lock the bathroom door and… pretend I was in control. But every night, I went a little further. Pushing boundaries. Dressing differently. Shaving. Buying lingerie. Things I wanted Aaron to notice. But he never did.

Sève Noire: And Ronny did?

Sandra: Not right away. But the way I wanted to be noticed… it wasn’t about flowers or compliments. I wanted to feel devoured. Desired. Like I wasn’t just a tired mother folding laundry at midnight.

Sève Noire: So tell me about that night. The one that rewrote everything.

Sandra: Aaron was out of town for work. Ronny offered to bring a movie—The Godfather. I dressed in a little white dress, no bra. I changed three times before he arrived. My heart was pounding like I was about to do something criminal.

Sève Noire: [teasing] Well, to be fair, some might argue you were.

Sandra: I know. I know… But in that moment? I felt alive. Like the movie, the drinks, the flowers he brought—all of it was part of this careful seduction. And I was both the director and the actress.

Sève Noire: That’s beautifully put. Seduction as performance and liberation.

Sandra: Exactly. At first, we were just watching. Then cuddling. Then laughing. I went to change, came out in that white dress… and when I saw him near the door talking on the phone, I panicked. I thought he was leaving.

Sève Noire: And did you want him to?

Sandra: [quietly] No. I wanted him to stay more than I wanted to breathe. And when he looked at me and hung up the phone… it was like the air cracked with heat.

Sève Noire: What happened next?

Sandra: We kissed. It wasn’t sweet. It was messy. Greedy. My body responded like it had been waiting years. And the guilt—I swear, Sève—the guilt came second. Pleasure came first.

Sève Noire: That’s something people don’t admit enough. That pleasure can precede regret. That the body leads, and the mind limps behind, trying to justify.

Sandra: [nods] Yeah. That’s exactly it.

Sève Noire: Did you feel powerful? Or powerless?

Sandra: Both. I was in control until I wasn’t. And even when I let go, it felt like choosing to fall. I rode that high until we collapsed. Naked. Twisted in sheets that hadn’t known real warmth in a long time.

Sève Noire: You made a choice. But let me ask you something uncomfortable, Sandra. Did you feel loved that night?

Sandra: [long silence] No. I felt... used and wanted and seen. But not loved.

Sève Noire: And did part of you want it to be love?

Sandra: [choked laugh] I wanted it to be everything. I wanted Ronny to be the answer. To validate every ache I’d buried in motherhood and marriage.

Sève Noire: But?

Sandra: He wasn’t. He was just... the mirror I needed. The reflection of a woman I didn’t recognize anymore. Hungry. Bold. Messy. Alive.

Sève Noire: Did you tell Aaron?

Sandra: No. I buried it. For a while. Then it started eating at me. Not just the guilt. The change. I started asking for more. Not sexually. Emotionally. Spiritually. I outgrew the woman Aaron married.

Sève Noire: And what about Ronny?

Sandra: He was a chapter. Not the book. And I think he knew it, too. We never did anything again. He still texts sometimes. Jokes. Music links. But I’m… not that girl anymore.

Sève Noire: That girl got you through a hard moment. You don’t have to apologize for her.

Sandra: [soft laugh] Thank you for saying that.

Sève Noire: One last question, Sandra. If you could go back and whisper something in your own ear the night you opened the door to Ronny… what would it be?

Sandra: I’d say... “This won’t fix you. But it will wake you. And you needed to wake up.”

Sève Noire: Whew. That just hit me in the chest. Thank you for trusting us with this, Sandra. I hope this confession gave you some peace.

Sandra: It did. I don’t feel ashamed anymore. Just... human.

Sève Noire: That’s all any of us are. Hungry, foolish, aching humans. Thank you for letting us see you.

Sandra: Thank you, Sève.

---

Check this out:

This confession is brought to you by: SÈVE NOIRE DE TONGA.

New confessions and stories are shared daily on our page. If you enjoy them, we'd truly appreciate your sharing with others who might love them too.

Join Tagobe JOY's WhatsApp channel to never miss our latest stories, chapters, announcements and more! Here's the link 👉 https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbAfF3r2ZjCor7tQjK24

To message us on WhatsApp, click here 👉 https://wa.me/message/3R53ZLZARD6ED1

Discover more captivating stories in our full catalog here 👉 https://selar.com/m/tagobe-joy

TAGOBE JOY: Let's enjoy life a lot more with awesome stories ❤️‍🔥.

God Bless 🙏.

#intimacy #intimate #romantic couple #touch #intense #couple #passion #confession #confess your sins #cock lust #desire #interracial lust #lust for life

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #6 (Paul): I Fell for My Student, But Her Secret Turned Me On

We all have our types, our attractions. But what happens when that attraction crosses a line, a boundary we never expected to blur? In this story, Paul, a teacher, finds himself drawn to Simone, a student whose life holds a shocking secret. It's a secret that ignites a fire in him, a desire that challenges everything he thought he knew about himself.

This isn't just a tale of forbidden love; it's an exploration of how our desires can be awakened in the most unexpected ways. It's about the push and pull of morality and longing, and how the discovery of someone's hidden world can change us forever. Get ready to question your own boundaries, because this confession dives deep into the complex and often surprising nature of attraction.

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

---

<<And now the confession!>>

---

Paul: Thanks for having me, Sève. I'm... well, it's a bit of a story.

Sève Noire: (Chuckles) I can only imagine. So, let's start at the beginning. You were in a relationship with Simone, who was also your student, correct?

Paul: Yes, that's right. It started out quite normally, all things considered. We connected, and things progressed... naturally.

Sève Noire: "Naturally." Uh-huh. And her... profession? That added a certain spice, didn't it?

Paul: (Hesitates) Simone... worked as an escort. It was something I had to come to terms with. There were moments of jealousy, especially seeing her with other people.

Sève Noire: Jealousy, that green-eyed monster. It can be quite the disruptive force. Now, there's a particular incident in the shower... walk me through that.

Paul: Well, one morning, after Simone had been out late, we were in the shower together. Things got... heated.

Sève Noire: Heated is one word for it. The text suggests a rather intense encounter. You took the lead, quite assertively, I gather?

Paul: I... I did. There was a primal urge, a need to express myself physically. I took control.

Sève Noire: Assertive, primal... almost aggressive? The line between passion and something darker can be blurry, can't it?

Paul: It was passionate, intense. I wanted to... dominate, I suppose. To show her how much I desired her.

Sève Noire: And Simone's reaction? It wasn't all ecstasy, was it? There was mention of... tears, guilt.

Paul: No, it wasn't. Afterwards, she was upset. I think my... intensity overwhelmed her. There was a sense of shame, perhaps even violation.

Sève Noire: A potent reminder that even in the throes of passion, consent and emotional awareness are paramount. Did this incident change the dynamic between you two?

Paul: It did, initially. It forced us to have some very difficult conversations about boundaries, about what we both wanted and needed.

Sève Noire: Communication is key, as they say. Now, let's shift gears a bit. There's another woman in the picture, Eleni. Your relationship with her takes an interesting turn at the school prom. Care to elaborate?

Paul: Eleni was a colleague. Simone essentially orchestrated for us to... spend time together that night.

Sève Noire: Matchmaking with a twist! Simone sounds like quite the character. And Eleni? She was receptive, it seems.

Paul: She was. There was a connection, a spark. We ended up back at my place.

Sève Noire: And that's where things get... interesting. Eleni reveals she's never been with anyone but her husband. That must have added a layer of intensity.

Paul: It did. It was... humbling, to be the one to introduce her to that kind of intimacy.

Sève Noire: A first-time experience. Those are always memorable. The text gets quite explicit here, Paul. Are you comfortable delving into the details?

Paul: (Takes a deep breath) I am. It was... passionate. I explored her body, savored her taste. She was responsive, vocal. It was unlike anything I'd experienced before.

Sève Noire: The language is quite... vivid. It paints a picture of intense physical connection. And Eleni's reaction to her first orgasm? That must have been something to witness.

Paul: It was... profound. She was overwhelmed, emotional. It was like a dam had burst. To know I was the one who could give her that... it was incredibly powerful.

Sève Noire: Powerful indeed. Sex can be such a transformative experience, especially when it unlocks something new. But here's the twist – Simone walks in. Awkward!

Paul: (Laughs) You have no idea. Eleni was mortified, I was stunned. But Simone... she was surprisingly accepting.

Sève Noire: Accepting? Almost... approving? The dynamics here are certainly unconventional. A student, a teacher, and a colleague in a rather intimate entanglement.

Paul: Unconventional is an understatement. But Simone saw something there, a connection between Eleni and me. She believed we deserved happiness.

Sève Noire: A love triangle with a rather unique twist. So, where did things go from there? Eleni leaves with Simone, a rather charged goodbye. What was going through your mind?

Paul: I was... hopeful. Confused, but hopeful. I had developed strong feelings for both women. The situation was complex, but there was a genuine connection there.

Sève Noire: A tangled web of desire, indeed. Paul, your story is a testament to the complexities of love, lust, and the unexpected paths our hearts can lead us down. Thank you for sharing this intimate journey with us.

Paul: Thank you, Sève. It's been... cathartic.

Sève Noire: And to our readers, remember, the human heart is a vast and mysterious landscape. Until next time, keep exploring, keep questioning, and keep confessing.

---

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This confession is brought to you by: SÈVE NOIRE DE TONGA.

New confessions and stories are shared daily on our page. If you enjoy them, we'd truly appreciate your sharing with others who might love them too.

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#intimate #romantic couple #intimacy #intense #couple #passion #touch #sexy hunk #confession #confess your sins

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #5 (Delilah): He Touched Me… and Realized I Wasn't What He Expected

You ever want something so bad you lie to yourself just to taste it? That’s what Delilah did. Not out of malice, not to trick anyone—but because, like a lot of us, she wanted to be wanted. She wanted to feel normal, sexy, real… in someone else’s arms. And when Frankie—the kind of man you dream about but never expect to kiss you back—actually did, she let the moment carry her.

This isn’t a story about deception. It’s about risk. It’s about that terrifying line between honesty and rejection, and how sometimes, being loved for who you are means first being seen, fully and naked. What happened that night wasn’t just sex—it was surrender. Not just of bodies, but of fear, shame, identity. You might think you’d never be in Delilah’s shoes. But if you’ve ever been scared to show someone your full truth, or held your breath waiting to see if they'd still want you after they knew everything… then maybe, just maybe, you already have.

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

---

<<And now the confession!>>

---

Sève Noire: (warmly, like I’m lighting a cigarette with my tone) Delilah. First of all, thank you for sitting across from me tonight. You already know what this is—Confession of the Flesh. No filters, no shame. Just you, me, and the truth. Are you ready?

Delilah: Ready as I’ll ever be, Sève. Though… part of me still wonders why I’m even doing this.

Sève Noire: (laughs) Because the flesh remembers, and you’ve got something unforgettable tucked in your memory. So tell me. Start at the beginning. Who was he?

Delilah: Frankie. God, Frankie was… charismatic in that way you only see in movies or rockstars. And that’s because he was one. Touring artist. Leather jacket, cigarette lips, the whole thing.

Sève Noire: Mmm. The kind of man who makes you forget how to walk straight. So what was the setting?

Delilah: Hotel suite. Presidential. Everything expensive but dim—like the room knew what was about to happen. I followed him in, and the city lights painted his face gold. It felt like the world had stepped out and left us alone.

Sève Noire: So you knew something might happen.

Delilah: I did. But I also didn’t. We flirted the way people do when they’re pretending they don’t want to devour each other. He offered wine. I made jokes in a fake British accent. He matched my energy, like we’d been doing this for years.

Sève Noire: (teasing) And you thought you could just sip a Malbec and walk out with your skirt still zipped?

Delilah: (laughs) I wanted to believe I could. But he kissed me. Out of nowhere. And I kissed him back—hard.

Sève Noire: Tell me how it felt.

Delilah: Like gravity reversed. He touched my cheek like it was a violin, and my thigh like it was a secret. I felt… wanted. Not just for my body. For my rhythm, my presence, my nerve.

Sève Noire: (serious tone now) But you stopped him.

Delilah: Yeah. Right before it got serious. I pulled away. Told him maybe it wasn’t the right time. I didn’t want to be a chapter he forgot by morning.

Sève Noire: Or maybe you were scared he’d find something you didn’t know how to explain.

Delilah: Exactly. I was terrified. My heart was sprinting. He could tell something was off. But I tried to leave. He stopped me—gentle, not pushy. Said, “Don’t go. Please.” Just like that. As if I mattered.

Sève Noire: Did he know then?

Delilah: No. Not yet. He just saw fear and thought it was about feelings, not identity.

Sève Noire: So what changed your mind?

Delilah: (quietly) He looked at me like I was the only truth he wanted that night. I told him, “There’s stuff you don’t know about me.” And he said, “I don’t care.” I fell into his arms after that. I was weak for him. For the moment.

Sève Noire: (pauses) That’s heavy. Did it feel like you were betraying yourself?

Delilah: It felt like I was betraying him. Because I hadn’t told him I’m trans. Pre-op. And things… they escalated quickly.

Sève Noire: You got lost in the fire.

Delilah: Yeah. He kissed my neck. Took off my top. I touched him—felt how hard he was for me. And I forgot everything I’d rehearsed to say if this moment ever came.

Sève Noire: Then what?

Delilah: He undid his pants. God, Sève, he was beautiful. Like sculpture. And when he reached under my skirt, everything stopped. He touched me… and realized.

Sève Noire: (leans forward, voice low) What did he say?

Delilah: “You’re a man.” Just like that. Four words like cold water down my back.

Sève Noire: Did you correct him?

Delilah: I said, “I was a man. I’m a woman now.” And he stared—stuck in a loop of shock and disbelief. I covered myself. I could feel the shame crawling up my skin.

Sève Noire: Did he make you feel ashamed?

Delilah: No. I did that to myself. I assumed he’d leave. That he’d curse or call me a liar. So I stood up, gathered my things. But before I made it to the door, he said, “Don’t go.”

Sève Noire: (gently) He said that?

Delilah: He did. I was frozen. And then I asked him, “But what about my cock?”—because I needed the truth. He looked at it, then said, “I want it.”

Sève Noire: (whistles softly) That’s a man who knows what he wants. Or is brave enough to admit it.

Delilah: It shattered me. In the best way. I ran back into his arms, and for the first time in years, I felt seen—not in spite of my body, but with it.

Sève Noire: Tell me what that felt like—when he accepted all of you.

Delilah: Like I was reborn. We kissed, and this time it wasn’t frantic. It was worship. He took his time, touched me everywhere. He stroked me with both hands like he was learning my language.

Sève Noire: Did you still feel fear?

Delilah: A little. But it got drowned out by how hungry we were for each other. I went down on him—slow, loving. He tasted like desire and salt and everything I hadn’t let myself crave.

Sève Noire: (a soft hum) I imagine he was moaning your name.

Delilah: He was. Holding my hair, whispering it like a song. Then he took control again—pulled me onto the bed, spread my legs.

Sève Noire: (curious) Did you expect him to want you… like that?

Delilah: Never. I thought he’d be afraid of my body. But instead, he celebrated it. He looked at my cock like it was a jewel. Then he kissed me again and said, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sève Noire: (deep breath) Delilah… that’s more than lust. That’s revelation.

Delilah: I know. And then—he wanted to feel me. Inside him. So he climbed on top of me, guided me in. I’ll never forget the way he gasped, bit his lip. It was like he was discovering a new universe.

Sève Noire: (gently) Was it passionate? Or something deeper?

Delilah: Both. He rode me, held my hands against the mattress, kissed my chest. I stroked him while I was inside him. It was messy, beautiful, overwhelming. We finished—together. Collapsed like stars colliding.

Sève Noire: (quiet for a moment) Delilah… that’s one of the most intimate confessions I’ve ever heard.

Delilah: It broke something open in me. For the first time, I felt not just validated—but chosen.

Sève Noire: But he had to leave, didn’t he?

Delilah: Yeah. Touring life. He said he didn’t know when he’d be back. I begged him to stay. But he promised—“I’ll come back.” And then he kissed me again, this time with all the weight of goodbye.

Sève Noire: (soft laugh, bittersweet) Why is it that the people who light us on fire are always on their way to another city?

Delilah: I still think about him. Still wonder if he meant it. If he’ll return.

Sève Noire: Would you let him back in?

Delilah: In a heartbeat. Even if just for another night of knowing I’m not too much, or not enough—I’m exactly what someone wants.

Sève Noire: Delilah… you’re a symphony of desire, bravery, and truth. You gave him more than your body. You gave him the chance to grow into a better man. And maybe that was the real climax.

Delilah: (chuckles) Trust you to make poetry out of sweat and wine.

Sève Noire: Poetry lives there, darling. Between the “don’t go” and the “I want you.” Thank you for trusting me with this. You’ve added fire to the archive.

Delilah: Thank you, Sève. I didn’t realize how much I needed to say it all out loud.

Sève Noire: (smiles, the sound of a glass being set down) And now it’s out in the world. Confession made. Story told. Lust, love, and something deeper.

Delilah: And messy romance.

Sève Noire: The best kind.

---

Check this out:

This confession is brought to you by: SÈVE NOIRE DE TONGA.

New confessions and stories are shared daily on our page. If you enjoy them, we'd truly appreciate your sharing with others who might love them too.

Join Tagobe JOY's WhatsApp channel to never miss our latest stories, chapters, announcements and more! Here's the link 👉 https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbAfF3r2ZjCor7tQjK24

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TAGOBE JOY: Let's enjoy life a lot more with awesome stories ❤️‍🔥.

God Bless 🙏.

#intimacy #intimate #intense #couple #passion #touch #romantic couple #sexy hunk #beautiful #legs #beauty #cute #gorgeous

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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THE WITCH DOCTOR (by LIV PALMBOS)

Summary:

In the frostbitten village of Culsbury, where superstition clings to the wind like the scent of damp earth, Lord Tybalt makes a desperate bargain with a disreputable witch doctor. His daughter Catherine refuses her arranged marriage to a wealthy lord, choosing instead a peasant lover—a scandal that could ruin Tybalt’s name. But the witch doctor’s solution is not what it seems. What will Catherine find when she opens the mysterious parcel meant to bind her to a man she despises? The Witch Doctor is a deliciously dark tale of deception and defiance, where the true magic lies not in spells, but in cunning.

---

<<And now enjoy the story>>

---

The night was chilly and cold, and the breeze had a bitterness in it that seemed to hint at a premature winter for the inhabitants of Culsbury. Almost everyone in the little village was sheltered against the stiff wind, huddled against the oncoming cold-front behind shabby wooden clapboards, or thin, fraying blankets. Nothing was to be heard in the village except the howling of the wind, and the occasional clopping of horse hooves against the cobblestones.

Lord Tybalt of Culsbury was braving the frosty night air with nothing but his horse, an expensive velvet cloak, and grim determination. It was out of character for Tybalt to be venturing out into this weather, (“You will catch cold if you remain outdoors too long!” his wife, Lady Margaret, fretted) and let alone at night, (“So many scoundrels lurk about in the nighttime…”). But Lord Tybalt wouldn’t risk his honor, or his nobility, if it weren’t important.

Tybalt drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders and shivered, not at the nip in the air, but at the cacophony his horse was making as its hooves clattered against the stone. If he were caught, he could be hung, or worse, burned at the stake. It was no small thing, venturing out into the forests just outside of Culsbury; all sorts of things could go wrong. But it wasn’t as if he had a choice.

Soon enough, the cobblestones became littered with dried leaves that crackled underneath his horse’s hooves, and he knew he was getting close. The stones gradually faded into a roughly beaten dirt path, which he blessed as it muffled the sound his steed made. Skeletons of dead trees hung over his head and clawed at his clothing, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. Goosebumps skittered up Tybalt’s spine as he remembered what his wife said about owls- “Bringers of bad luck and ill-health, they are,”- but he brushed it off and urged his horse into a brisk trot. The sooner this was done, the better.

Finally, he passed the gnarled old pine tree his servant was telling him about, the one that spewed sap from it’s knots like pus from infected wounds, and he saw it: the smoking, unevenly lit shack, flanked by a lopsided sign that proclaimed, ‘The Witch Doctor’. Below the words that were written in the vernacular was a strange, scratchy script, most likely a translation into a language Tybalt doubted really existed.

Lord Tybalt dismounted his horse and rapped on the knotted wood door, tense. He waited for a moment, then two, before it creaked open and a rasping voice said, “Come in, come in…”

Tybalt took a step forward and was immediately affronted with a pungent, bitter odor, no doubt originating from the dried herbs that were hung from the rafters. Smoke was rising from the fire in the grate into the crooked, sooty chimney, on which something equally acrid was boiling in a rusted kettle. The scarred wooden table was cluttered with various nuts, herbs, plants, and roots, all thrown about in disarray around a large, yellowing book, its pages packed with an uneven scrawl. For a moment, Lord Tybalt was so taken aback by the untidy appearance of the hut that he didn’t notice the strange little man standing behind him.

“Customers? At this hour? Very unusual, very unusual indeed…”

Tybalt started and whipped around to face a short little man with wild, overgrown white hair and an assortment of rotting, crooked teeth. His eyes seemed to be arranged on his face lopsidedly, his nose adorned by several large, black moles, and wearing a burlap garment smeared with soot and soil. Lord Tybalt swallowed to disguise his immediate disgust for the man.

“Are you the man everyone speaks of as the witch doctor?” Lord Tybalt said in a tremulous voice.

“It says so on the sign, does it not?” the man cackled.

“I am in need of…” Lord Tybalt coughed on the sour fumes rising from the kettle, “A favor from you.”

The witch doctor approached Lord Tybalt, and though he was several inches shorter than he was, Lord Tybalt flinched away from him. “Most people who come here do,” the witch doctor wheezed. His voice crackled like the dying leaves his horse had trampled underfoot earlier. His breath smelled of wet earth and decaying undergrowth. “What is it you need of me?”

“I… that is, well—” Lord Tybalt blustered. His chest swelled underneath a rich velvet doublet. “That is… my daughter—wild girl, does not agree with me…”

Lord Tybalt coughed again and puffed his chest up even more; an act that gave him confidence. “My daughter is to be married to a lord; a Lord Richard of Kingstead. Very wealthy man, very influential…” Tybalt wrung his expensive cloak between meaty hands. “We arranged for her marriage to the man as soon as we heard of his looking for a wife.”

“Understandable, understandable,” the witch doctor croaked, sprinkling dried leaves into the kettle while mumbling strange words under his breath.

“Yes, well, but—my daughter—she will not have it!” Lord Tybalt was getting flustered now, his face gaining color and fingers uprooting hair almost subconsciously. “She has taken up with…with this… with this peasant! I will not have it, doctor! It would ruin me if word got out that…that…” Tybalt’s voice broke off and he sank into thought as he considered the numerous consequences that would befall him if word got out his daughter was associating with a commoner.

“Ahh,” the witch doctor said wisely, stirring the kettle on the fire thoughtfully. “You wish me to make the girl fall in love with her arranged husband.”

“You must understand. It would ruin me, my reputation and wealth, if she were not married to the man.”

The witch doctor nodded and waved his hands through the smoke from the fire absently. “And what do you offer me in return?”

Lord Tybalt removed a ring from his finger, thick and golden and inlaid with precious stones. He dropped it into the witch doctor’s dirt-stained palm. Yellowing, gnarled fingernails pinched it tight and held it up in the light.

“Worth quite a lot, I’m expecting, and very potent in alchemic studies, yes… I believe I can help you, dear sir…”

And the witch doctor disappeared into a side room, no doubt collecting supplies for a potion or spell.

Lord Tybalt wrung his hands and flushed in the heat of the fire, despite the cold outside. Five minutes passed, then ten. Lord Tybalt was just considering leaving the hut, riding home, and attempting other means of pairing his daughter with the Lord Richard of Kingstead when the witch doctor hobbled out of the room, carrying a small brown package tied with a scrap of twine. He thrust the thing into Tybalt’s hands.

“This is for your daughter’s eyes, and your daughter’s eyes only. You must not open it nor let anyone else open it for you- your daughter must be the only one to see the contents.”

Lord Tybalt’s eyes widened. “Is it a spell, witch doctor?”

“Yes, yes. You must let her open the package, then leave her in her quarters for one whole day and night. Do not talk to her. Do not attempt any contact with her other than leaving food and drink by her door. Do you understand?”

Tybalt nodded fervently. He clutched the package tightly.

The witch doctor patted his hand, then limped over to his table. “One last thing,” he said, two sprigs of something dried and dark green clutched in his hand, “you and your wife must steep these in a cup of tea directly after you give your daughter the box. Drink all of it. Do you understand what you are to do, good sir?”

Tybalt nodded. “Give my daughter the parcel, leave her in her room untouched for one day and one night. Directly after giving the box to her, my wife and I will drink a cup of tea with this,” he gestured with the sprigs the witch doctor had given him, “steeped in it. Thank you, witch doctor.”

Lord Tybalt then gathered his parcels, herbs, and dignity, and mounted his horse. He urged the mare into a stiff trot and made his way toward home, already dreaming of the wealth his daughter’s betrothal would bring him. His daughter would love the man she must marry, and all would be well.

But behind him, concealed in the shadows, the witch doctor smiled.

----------

Catherine, daughter of Tybalt and Margaret of Culsbury, woke in the morning to unusually cheery parents.

At first, Catherine had blanched, running through all of the special occasions that their family celebrated and making sure she had not forgotten their dates- birthdays, anniversaries, holidays- but none of them were today. Catherine slowed her graceful stride down the stairs and looked quizzically at her parents.

“Whatever’s the matter? Why are you smiling so?”

Her father rose from his chair and took her hands.

“Daughter, you have received a gift from your husband-to-be, Lord Richard of Kingstead.” He pressed a small parcel into her hands, wrapped with brown paper and tied with a bit of twine.

Catherine stared at it blankly, hiding her disappointment behind a flat mask. She took it in her hands and walked slowly back up to her chambers to be alone, closing the door behind her.

She sat down on her bed and tore off the paper slowly, as if dreading what might lie inside the tiny brown package.

The first object she saw inside the package was a thick golden band, inlaid with all sorts of gems and obviously worth a great deal. She turned it over in her hand and admired it as it glittered in the early morning light.

The second was a small piece of paper with the address of a stables near her, one that could arrange voyages for two to faraway towns and villages. With it came the description of a house in a town called Abercoombe, a river town far away from Culsbury.

The third was a palette of homemade paints meant to, as the note that came with it proclaimed, ‘conceal one’s identity’, along with thick, woolen traveling cloaks to keep two people warm on a bitter winter night.

And lastly, there was a yellowing envelope filled with dried rose petals, a symbol of true love and a prosperous future.

Catherine knew at once this was not a gift from her fiancé. She knew it could not be from her father, nor her mother. She also knew the purpose of the contents; what she was now able to do, as soon as night fell.

With the contents of the gift, everything she needed for escape was at her fingertips; now all she needed was to wait until the cover of night, when she would sneak out to find her lover and make haste for first the stable, then the quiet little village of Abercoombe.

Catherine’s fingers were tingling with anticipation, her mind working feverishly to compose an inventory of things that she and her lover might need to survive and make it to Abercoombe- food and water being high up on the list. She opened her door soundlessly and crept down the stairs, planning to filch something from the kitchen and dodge her parent’s questions. It soon appeared, however, that sneaking was unnecessary.

Tybalt and Margaret were slumped over in their chairs, breathing deeply as their faces pressed against the polished wood of the dining room table. A platter of unfinished breakfast food lay between them, and two unfinished cups of tea were still loosely clutched between their fingers. Catherine approached them tentatively, made sure that they were only asleep, (not dead, thank the heavens) and sniffed the dregs of tea left in their cup. It smelled foul; bitter and sharp, making her nostrils sting. The sender of the package had drugged her parents’ morning tea.

This changed things, thought Catherine. With her parent’s unconscious, escape was now possible as soon as it suited her.

With this in mind, Catherine trekked through the forest on the outskirts of town toward her lover's house, who at that very moment was removing the paints he used daily on his face and teeth to conceal his true identity.

At last, Catherine rounded the corner by the old pine tree that was spewing sap as a wound did pus and saw her destination, where her lover was waiting for her: a crooked shack labeled with a sign that read, 'The Witch Doctor'.

---

Check this out:

---

This story is written by LIV PALMBOS, and brought to you by SÈVE NOIRE DE TONGA.

New stories are shared daily on our page. If you enjoy them, we'd truly appreciate your sharing with others who might love them too.

Join Tagobe JOY's WhatsApp channel to never miss our latest stories, chapters, announcements and more! Here's the link 👉 https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VbAfF3r2ZjCor7tQjK24

To message us on WhatsApp, click here 👉 https://wa.me/message/3R53ZLZARD6ED1

Discover more captivating stories in our full catalog here 👉 https://selar.com/m/tagobe-joy

TAGOBE JOY: Let's enjoy life a lot more with awesome stories ❤️‍🔥.

God Bless 🙏.

#short fiction #short story #short shorts #forced marriage #passion #gothic #dark core gothique

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #3 (Jane): My Husband Got Me the Job… But His Boss Got My Body.

Sometimes the line between boredom and betrayal is paper-thin. You don’t plan to cross it—but a little flirt here, a little thrill there, and suddenly, you’re swallowing secrets thicker than silence. That’s what this one’s about. A rainy day, a quiet site, a woman in a security booth whose husband pulled strings to get her the job… and she’s pulling something else under the desk. What starts off playful ends up soaked in lust, guilt, and just enough thrill to keep her coming back for more.

You might read this and think, “Damn, that’s messy,” but take a breath; most messes don’t look like messes when you’re in the middle of them. Sometimes they look like validation. Like attention. Like power. So the question becomes: is it the sex she wanted—or the feeling of being wanted at all?

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

---

And now the confession (18+)

---

My hubby recently got me into a security position at a new construction site. Sweet deal, three shifts a week with the occasional weekend shift.

The security trailer is currently shared with the on-site surveyors. It's been fun flirting and joking around with the different guys that come in to work. Especially Tim.

Tim is the younger guy, probably around early 30s. Dark shoulder length black hair. Medium build. He's the one I've been flirting with most of the time. Dan his boss was in with him on this day. Dan is older, probably in his 50s. Shorter with black and silver hair. He's a big flirt as well. Lots of fun. I know he's been checking me out a few times. Not that there is much to see, my security uniform is not very flattering.

On this day it had been raining heavily on and off all day. There are a few hazardous spots in front of the security building where someone could either trip or twist an ankle. Dan mentioned it to me and I've said that I've mentioned it a few timed to the health and safety department. Dan said he'd look into it and got in his truck and drove to the other side of the site. When he returned Dan said that they were sending someone over before the end of the day to level out the ground.

It was a quieter day because of the rain so we pretty much spent the day on our phones and chatting with each other. Tim asked Dan if he was able to get the same hotel as him. After sending a message to hubby, I turned to them and asked if they were staying because of the weather. Dan looked over at me and said they split up the week. One crew arrives for three days and stay at a hotel, all accommodations paid for then another crew comes in for another 3 days.

" Your wife must like that." I joked.

"So do I. " Dan replied with a wiley grin.

Sometime after that a grater arrived and flattened out the gravel in front of the security building. The three of us walked outside to watch. It had also stopped raining at this point as well. Once the machine did its job it drove back to the other side of the site.

"Thank you for finally getting it done." I said to Dan as I sat in my chair on the other side of the room.

"No problem. " He replied. " Got to keep you safe and around here. Gives us something to look at."

I smiled at his response. "Well I should repay you somehow. Maybe I'll by you a coffee."

"A coffee would do, but I'm thinking of something else you can do."

"I bet you are. " I chuckled as I was sending hubby a text about the road finally getting fixed."

Dan stood up and walked over to me and as I put my phone down, I heard his jeans zipper. I turned to look and his cock was sticking out of his zipper hole. "I bet you would know how to handle this."

I looked up at Dan then over at Tim that was sitting at their desk a little surprised at the current events. " someone might walk in." I replied looking at Dan's throbbing cock then up at Dan.

"It towards the end of the day and hardly anyone's around. " Dan smiled down at me.

"But still." I replied.

"Tim go outside and watch for anyone coming. I don't need you looking at my cock anyway. " Dan asked a shocked Tim. Tim got up out of his seat and walked towards the door. "I'll let you know when it's safe to come inside."

Tim went out the door and closed it behind him. "Good thing it stopped raining. " I chuckled.

"Indeed." Dan replied taking the back of my head and moved it towards his thick cock. I could see the precum dripping from the slit. I opened my mouth and Dan slipped his cock into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around it and he let out a deep moan. My phone dinged behind me as hubby responded to my last text message.

I was sucking Dan's cock as he thrusted into my mouth. Sucking sounds filled the security building. "I was right, you do know what to do" Dan grunted as I continued to suck on his cock. He was matching my thrusting. His jeans hitting my nose with each thrust in. I was moaning as he was grunting. My pussy dripping in my panties as I continued to get face fucked.

I moved my hand up to stroke his cock as I sucked him. This made the wet sounds louder in the room. I wondered if Tim could hear outside.

"Mmmm fuck, omg, fuck," Dan was saying above me as I continued. "I'm not going to last much longer " Dan grunted.

I quickened my sucking. My mouth thrusting on on his cock as my hand tightened it's grip. "Ugh ugh ugh...oh fuck...ugh ugh ugh. " Dan grunted. Then he mumble.."mmmfffkkmmmgggg" as I felt his warm cum hitting the back of my throat. He was holding my head with both hands keeping still as he continued to cum down my throat.

"Fuck was that ever a good blowjob. " Dan breathed as he stood back. His cock popped out of my mouth. He walked back over to his side of the room and sat down on a chair. His semi hard cock still sticking out of his jeans.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. " I smiled and licked my lips. I picked my phone up and replied to hubby's message.

"Now you know why I like these three days away from home." Dan replied with a smile. "

"Yes I do." I responded back putting my phone back down. "I take it that you've been naughty being away." I asked already knowing the answer.

"You've met Angela in sales?" He asked

"Yes I have. "

"We fucked last week. She told her bf that she had a work meeting. We fucked for a few hours in the hotel room. "

" That's hot." I replied.

"I know right."

Dan's cock was getting harder again as we talked. "How about it?" He asked looking at me

"About what?" I replied somewhat shocked.

"How about a quickie fuck before we leave?" Dan asked as he stroked his now hard cock.

I knew hubby was going to be home and preparing dinner in about 20 minutes. My pussy was on fire and throbbing. "Ok" I responded.

Dan walked over to me and stood me up. He then turned me away from him . I was facing my desk. "I've been dying to check out this ass." He admitted. I texted hubby that I was running late as Dan pulled my uniform pants down to my knees. I felt his hands on my ass cheeks feeling them. "God I knew you'd have a fantastic ass." He said moving closer behind me. His wet cock pressed up against my ass. "Good girl " He said as he read my text message to hubby. "Spoken like a true slut."

Just then he bent me over and his fingers were on my pussy. "Soaking wet. Perfect. " He said as I felt his cock head as the entrance of my pussy. Then he pushed in causing me to gasp as he slid all the way into my womb. Dan let out a deep moan. "Tight! What hubby not fuck you anymore? " He asked as he grabbed my hips and started fucking me from behind.

His hips were tapping into mine as he fucked me. His cock stretching out my pussy. I was moaning loudly.

"Fuck, you like this don't you slut?" He was breathing heavily behind me. "This married pussy feels amazing around my cock, whore. "

Dan had one hand on a hip, the other on my shoulder as he fucked me. My wetness making wet sounds in the room. Then the hand on my shoulder went down on my tits. "Maybe next time. " Dan breathed heavily, "I'll get to see what these look like."

I was moaning loudly and crying out. I could imagine Tim hearing us outside. If the moaning didn't, the sound of the table Hitting the wall with each thrust probably did.

"That's it slut, take my married cock. " Dan spoke loudly. I stated to thrust back into him causing louder slapping sounds. My orgasm was building. Dan fucked harder then I cried out quietly, my hand over my mouth as I came. My pussy contracting around his cock. "Oh you whore!" Dan called out.

He started to thrust faster. I could feel his cock getting thicker inside me. His breathing intensified and suddenly he thrusted hard into me, holding himself as he cried out. Warm cum was filling my womb. Spurt after spurt it kept Cumming. Finally he stopped and stood back, popping out of my pussy. I could feel his sperm started to drip out of me.

Dan stood there catching his breath. I knelt down in front of him. I put his cock in my mouth to clean him up. "Oh you whore." He called out. "That mouth is amazing. " Dan was still semi hard in my mouth. He put both hands on my head and began fucking my face hard and fast. I knelt there taking it. Suddenly he send another load down my throat. His cock softening, he put it back in his jeans.

"Fuck I needed that." He admitted

"Me too." I said as I fixed myself.

We then left. Tim was no longer there, so at some point he must have gotten tired of waiting.

"Have a good evening. " Dan said getting into his truck.

"You too" I responded. I got on my car after locking the gate and drove home.

---

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #2 (Anonymous): My Wife Wanted an Open Marriage. We Got More Than We Bargained For.

They say marriage is about trust. But what happens when trust becomes an open door—when you both agree to step through, knowing damn well you might not like what’s on the other side?

See, it starts small. A passing thought. A curiosity. A "what if?" And then, before you know it, you’re standing in a backroom full of strangers, scanning the room like it’s some kind of twisted buffet. You tell yourself it’s just an experiment. Just a little fun. But deep down, there’s that gnawing question: Are we saving this, or setting it on fire? Maybe both. Maybe that’s the thrill. But the thing about fire is, you don’t always control what it burns.

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

---

And now the confession begins: NSFW

We walk through the bar, to the banquet room at the back. The sign says “private event,” with no other description. They couldn’t, really. The regular bar patrons would stare or leave or complain. She looks at me, I nod, and she opens the door. There is a wall of curtains. They don’t want anyone casually looking in. We navigate around the curtains, and as we enter the big room, half the room turns to survey us, head to toe. We are the new meat.

Nine years in, we both found our seven-year-itch. There are too many symptoms of a break on the horizon, some shallow, some deep. Emotional needs, evolving sexual desires, and even a bit of arrogance on both our parts, that maybe we each could have done better.

She had a lower sex drive years before, but turning forty had put her into high gear. She lost weight, toned up her legs and ass and abs, and treated herself to “tasteful” implants. She chose a “full C cup,” quite a change from the barely there A-cups that I lamely called her A-pluses for almost a decade. She still has the mousy hair and eyeglasses, a librarian from the neck up, a porn-ready body from the neck down.

My journey is different. The tall, fit man of a decade earlier wore the years heavily. My dark hair is gray on the sides. No longer well defined, fifteen extra pounds hide biceps and abs under a soft layer. The “work hard/ play hard” young professional aged into an overworked and underplayed man. The economic crash of 2008 is still fresh a year later. I worry about who I have to lay off next at work, not about how I’m getting laid.

The wife? She grows bolder as her midlife crisis wells and her confidence in her remade body improves. She asks for an open marriage. I explain that open goes both ways, and even on the wrong side of forty, the divorcees and never-married at work or around town would quickly find their way to a childless yet responsible-minded, decent looking, professional man. She bristles at the idea of me being “out there,” so we are here instead.

The swinger party in the back room of the bar is couples-only. It is a “fair pool” for both of us, not a line of young studs looking at her new tits. If she wants something like that, I have no interest in trying to save the marriage. She says she wants to stay together, but that we have to grow, to try new things, and evolve.

We stand just past the curtain wall, and I survey the room. A cluster of young, attractive couples, a group of eight, goes back to their chatting. They are plainly uninterested in the middle-aged tourists. A lady in the nearest group pulls on the arm of her male partner. She is a weathered sixty-plus years old, so much time in the sun that her skin looks like it’s eighty. She points at me, obviously interested. Thank god her partner is old, the wife won’t make that match.

The young ones don’t want us, and I’m hoping the wife isn’t harboring some elderly fetish. I scan the three remaining groups. Closest to the food, farthest from the door, is a group I will learn are “the pros.” Four couples, each own a hot tub, all frequent the tanning beds. The wife and I don’t get that far into the room.

The next group? Well, I’m sure they aren’t all bikers, but the five men have shaved heads. They range from 35 to 50 in age, black t-shirts and sturdy boots. Three of the men are trying hard to keep goatees alive. Their girls are ... slutty. Various levels of pretty, but uniformly “down to fuck”. I guess we’re all slutty here, I’m not throwing stones. Twenty years earlier I learned to avoid these girls in the bars. If they were talking to me, often the biggest guy in the place, it was an excuse for their boyfriend to take a swing at me. Still carrying a scar under my left eyebrow, the lesson is retained.

I guide us past that group, the wife makes eye contact with one of them, and I regret agreeing to this for the the third time tonight. For Christ’s sake, I haven’t gotten my first drink yet. Her eye contact with the cue ball lingers, but I make it to the group that “looks like us.”

We join the conversation, introducing ourselves, and everyone is super friendly. Fresh meat remember? Tony introduces his wife Marcie, then himself. He’s athletic, 5’11” of what... soccer player, maybe. Whatever he does is active, he’s a lean type of fit. Marcie is cute. Maybe 5’1, an athlete who’s popped out a kid or two. She’s got mom butt, she’s hot in a tiny yet grown woman way.

Next are Luke and Laura, obviously using fake names for some reason. She’s in charge, a bit too severe of a face, but a smoking body. Taller than my wife, hotter than my wife, bigger fake tits than my wife, and Laura looks mean. No thanks. Her hubby is a six foot tall mouse of a man. I don’t think he said anything beyond hello that night.

Rita and Jesse are opposite us in the conversational circle, and It seems I’m going to fuck this woman. Jesse is a couple of my wife’s fantasies, and I see her eying him up. He’s Latin of some type, Colombian I think. His shirt is tight, he’s muscular and cut, and has the stubble beard that’s “in” back in 2009. Rita is also Latina. Jesse is the peacock of the couple, the showoff. Rita is dressed modestly, her primary extravagance is the deep maroon/red lipstick accentuating full lips. What I’m sure used to be a killer hourglass figure is now softer, a lovely echo of the young hottie she used to be. Rita looks a bit older than Jesse, under a style of “too much makeup” that evolves when hot women pass forty and want to hide the uncontrollable effects of aging.

The final couple in the group are Alice and Ron. Alice is a big gal. She is extra curvy, super thick but no rolls of obesity, just ... big. Huge tits, double-wide ass, a pretty yet round face. She’s not short, and has to be over two hundred pounds, a good 25 heavier than the lean Tony, and probably a bit more than workout-warrior Jesse. I’m the only bigger person in the group, and she has not taken her eyes off me. My first thought of Alice is that we would have to fuck on the floor. The two of us would break a bed. Ron, her husband, is the vanilla-est guy you’d ever meet. Nice, funny, works in some kind of insurance. I wonder which of them decided it was time to fuck other people.

Tony and Marcie tell us about the life. She’s the queen of this little group, coordinates meetups every other month. In the opposite months, the meetups are open to single men, and “unicorns,” the almost imaginary bisexual girls that sleep with couples. Couples often find other couples at the meetups, then “date.” One night stands or longer term, it works like regular dating, but there’s four people that need to be happy. She goes on, it gets confusing. After the intro to “the lifestyle,” the conversation winds around the group, small talk and introductions.

As I turn to order my second beer, Jesse, the peacock, struts to my wife. She is looking hot but doesn’t go overboard. Boots and skinny jeans with a tight blouse. She’s showing off the goods, a toned body with new fake boobs, and Jesse is buying. He’s chatting her up, acknowledging me only to let Rita pass in my direction.

Rita wraps an arm around mine, cuddling up to me, and subtly turning me away from Jesse and the wife. This is a game, a dance, for the Latin pair. She distracts the other husband, giving her own man the space he needs to complete his seductions. As we go through the motions of small talk she catches me trying to turn and see my wife and Jesse. She purrs out flirty words and puts her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and keeping me from seeing.

Rita is comfortable showing her affections, I’ve always been a bit stoic. She coos in my ear, caresses my arm and chest, flutters her fake eyelashes. She’s attractive, but a deep part of my brain knows that she’s playing the part, being a distraction. There is no desire behind her actions, and it doesn’t break through... I don’t “want” her.

After a half hour of aggressive flirting, she asks if I want to take things somewhere more private, a room in the motel adjacent to the bar. My inner “danger sense” goes off, and I turn around. The wife is leaning back on a table, arms around Jesse, whose two hands are somehow on the back of her neck, her ass, and on one boob at the same time. I feel a flush of blood, my fight or flight reflex going to “fight,” my brain wondering if my size is going to be enough against his speed and fitness. Then it passes... we chose to be here, we want to sleep with other people, right?

Rita tells me she has wanted to suck my cock since she saw me, and that our partners are having fun, why shouldn’t we? Rita knows the game well, getting the least excited partner to seem to initiate the action. They are clever, and I see Jesse glancing out the corner of his eye, seeing if I’ve taken the bait. It’s checkmate, I’ve been played, and decide to make the best of a bad deal. I tell her “Rita, I’m not here for blowjobs. We came to swap.” The wife raises her eyebrows, surprised I’m walking into this willingly. Her expression sours slightly when I add, “Unless Jesse is only getting a blowjob too.”

Jesse interjects, “oh, no, no, no, we are all having fun.” He and Rita share eye contact, an unspoken message. The wife is smiling again, and Rita takes my hand after a moment, leading me to the door, our spouses close behind us. The room erupts in a half-drunken chorus of “ooowooo,” a regression to high school silliness from the assembled middle aged and elderly swingers. The old lady catches my eye again, and gives me an approving nod. This is so weird, but I’m still in.

The motel room is exactly what you were expecting. It’s not nice, but there are two full beds, and dark curtains, it’s all we need. Jesse takes the wife to the other side of the room. A hard kiss turns into a tumble onto the mattress, my wife conveniently pinned under the muscular Latino. Rita puts my hands on her hips, and starts to move, dancing to a song only she can hear, pulling me close, sharing the heat of her body.

Jesse’s already got the wife’s top off. He’s a boob guy, Rita’s natural but sagging Ds are a contrast to the wife’s perky new implants, but he likes big tits. He unhooks her bra and whispers “dios”. The wife always had nipples the size of the last part of my pinky when they were hard. On top of her much bigger boobs, the hard oversized nipples are pornographically hot.

Rita lets out a disapproving “hmmph.” She wriggles our of her tight skirt and black, lacy panties, guiding my hands to her womanly ass. She’s got a lovely flared behind, different from the athletic and narrow girls who usually draw my attention. It’s ... nice. She’s soft in a way that the wife is not, and my buddy down below likes it. Rita feels him stir, and smirks. She doesn’t say anything but her expression says, “fuck that skinny fake bitch, her man needs a woman.”

She takes off my shirt, then my pants, and I no longer care what’s going on in the other bed. Rita is naked from the waist down, my three-quarters hard cock swinging freely, her every passing caress teasing it a bit more, slowly bringing it to full attention. I am disappointed I don’t get my own “dios” here. The teasing touches evolve into her grabbing it with both hands, starting to slowly jerk me off before we even lay down on the bed. It’s a move I’m sure has worked for her in the past, a hand job to avoid an unwanted swap while Jesse pounds away at some poor sap’s wife. I’m not a genius, but I’ve already noticed there’s a game here. I’m not losing the game easily. I move to embrace her, pull her close and incidentally bring her arms to my shoulders, ending the hand job.

She dances us back to the edge of the bed, and with a nudge has me sitting. My cock is jutting out, eagerly, and the faint sounds of foreplay break through from behind me, from the other bed. My wife is making a familiar whimpering, Jesse either has fingers or his tongue on her pussy lips, and inside her.

I don’t care, as Rita is about to prove her specialty. She wriggles to her knees, sexy even in that routine movement. Once she is between my legs, I worry that I can’t back up my line about not being here for blowjobs.

Her lips kiss my tip, and glide over my head, then down another inch on my shaft. Some women are halfhearted when giving blowjobs, others are trying to do tricks like deepthroating. Rita is skilled, she is a maestro with her mouth, and my cock is the orchestra. The light suction never stops as she moves her lips up and down me. Her tongue is dancing and writhing around my shaft as she sucks, she’s giving me an mind bending experience. I’ve been skeptical of how much Rita really wants to swap, but I can attest at that moment that the lady loves to have a cock in her mouth.

I enjoy the best oral of my life for five minutes, and think to myself that I’m going to blow soon if I don’t change things up. I put my hands on Rita’s cheeks, urging her to look up, eye contact. She does. She keeps my dick in her mouth and looks into my eyes. Her expression says “don’t make me stop sucking you,” but we’ve agreed to fuck other people, I feel obliged to fuck the first one presented to me.

I tell her I’m going to put a condom on now, and she disengages, pouting. As I stand, I grab all four pillows and lay them on the bed, stacked two-high. “Lay back on that, with your butt at the edge, while I get the condom on.” I haven’t worn a condom in a decade. I used to be competent, but I’m out of practice, it takes a moment. Rita is getting impatient. Jesse is pounding away at the wife. I heard her cum earlier, while he went down on her is my guess. He won’t get her off in missionary, but he’s too focused to ask. He doesn’t seem the type to let her get on top and drive.

Condom finally on, I take Rita’s legs and put her ankles on my shoulders. I ask, “do you want my cock, baby” and she replies coolly, “I’ll fuck you.” It’s an odd answer. She was enthusiastic with my dick in her mouth, less so with her legs in the air. She takes my swollen member in her left hand, spreads her lips with her right, and guides me into her. She keeps her right hand between her legs, a natural brake to prevent me going too deep.

This position isn’t about deep. Her torso is angled up to me. As I press into her, a bit deeper each thrust, I reach the point I’m looking for. I’m a bit over half inside her, gliding forward slowly, and I hear my music, a guttural “uuuungh” as my dick massages her g-spot and she reflexively crunches her abs. Her eyes have been closed to this point, but after the third thrust without going deeper, after another pair of grunts, her eyes pop open, wide. She’s been passive, something has changed. Just then I hear Jesse moan-mumbling “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” as the rhythmic slapping from the next bed slows, then stops.

Jesse’s round is over, but Rita’s has just gotten interesting. Her eyes are open now, there’s some bliss in there, and some surprise, and a little... what... fear? I hope she’s not afraid of me, I’m being gentle, but focused. I’ve got my right hand around her legs, helping her keep them up, and making sure she stays angled for what I’m doing. My left hand is on her lower belly, softly, with my thumb brushing her hood, teasing her clit.

Meanwhile, every slow thrust deliberately massages her g-spot. I go slowly, she feels each different sensation. Each time the head presses and passes that magical spot, Rita clenches and moans. She tries to fuck back, but other than weakly thrusting her hips, there’s nothing she can do but enjoy. I see the moment where she starts coming. Tiny beads of sweat sprout on her upper lip, her forehead. My wife thrashes when she has an orgasm, but Rita vibrates. Her toes clench and I feel her ankles moving along my shoulders and neck. Her eyes are closed again, but her hands are clenching and unclenching, and lightly clawing at my belly and the area above my cock.

She stops shaking after ten or fifteen seconds, and a realization comes over her. Her eyes pop open once again, I haven’t stopped, same rhythm, same spot, same sensations. She’s not a verbal fuck, but her emotions are played full screen on her face. It’s definitely fear. She doesn’t like to be out of control, and when she comes, she’s very much not in control.

I realize then that I’ve entirely mis-read Jesse and Rita. He’s not a prideful peacock, fucking wives and dragging Rita along. He’s her trophy. Swapping is her way of showing him off, lording her perfectly sculpted and sexy man over the ladies with their older softer weaker men. I’m older, I’m a bit softer, but I’m a stubborn SOB.

The fear of losing control shines brightly through her eyes as she starts to come again. It’s been a short two minutes but she’s squirming and shaking again. The fear rolls to anger, anger at herself for losing control, as her hands go under her blouse and grab at her tits. Where her hands were a symbolic barrier between us earlier, stopping me from thrusting deep, she’s now gone primal. She squeezes her own tits for even more stimulation, to go even higher. She moans as the wave breaks over her third orgasm.

My wife harrumphs to get my attention. Jesse is on his back, spent for now, but the wife is not happy anymore. Jesse gave her a sample platter of a fuck, full of promise of future sessions and growing to know each other’s bodies. I’m giving Rita my A game, knowing I will never fuck this lady again. The wife is impatient.

The lady who was so dismissive of me that she didn’t even take her shirt off? She’s building to a fourth shaking orgasm, and she’s about to hit the wall. You can’t keep hitting the same spot, a woman gets raw, or oversensitive, or ... something. Clit, g-spot, nipples, you learn that they’ve got to rest a little. You learn to change it up.

Coming down off of orgasm number four, Rita forces her legs off my shoulders, wrapping them around my waist, pulling me in. She starts moaning too loudly, telling me she wants it, using her legs to pull me in deeper and faster. This is not passion. This is “please fucking come already, I need to stop.” I let myself go, deep fast strokes, no holding back. My measured pace gone, I’m sweating, breathing hard, and after a brief but frantic fuck, I spasm, coming. I plant my dick as deeply into Rita as I can, and after a few moments of seeing stars, I pull out, and flop onto the bed beside her, both of us contemplating the ceiling and breathing too hard.

Jesse stirs after a few moments of a room silent except for heavy breathing. Jesse springs out of my wife’s bed to his Rita and gives her a hug, then a kiss, and tells her he loves her. She kisses his cheek and weakly asks him for a damp washcloth. I’m the last to move, standing and taking the semen filled condom off my flagging member. Rather than our partners’ post-swap warmth toward each other, my wife purses her lips as I clean off.

After we all tidy ourselves up and dress, we hug our sex partners. My wife’s anger at me spills over to her hug with Jesse, she’s chilly. Rita is upset with herself for losing control, but whispers to me “you’re good. Those putas back at the bar want this. Not me.” We make our way back from the motel to the bar, and as we enter the banquet room, there is clapping and a few shouts of “new meat.”

Jesse, the wife and I make our way back to our group. Luke and Laura are gone, Alice and Ron are about to leave. Alice’s face lights up when we return. She walks right up to me, smiles while poking a finger in my chest, and says “next time.” I am not used to such open, brazen talk of sex. Ron gives contact info to the wife. He whispers something in my wife’s ear. I never find out what he said, but her eyebrows raise, and she smiles.

Rita rejoins the group as Alice and Ron say goodbye. The older lady is with her. “I’m Patricia. You two ... you are better than bimonthly meetups and dirty hotels. You must come to the club. But you,” and she points at my nose, “have some respect for yourself, lose some weight.” I just fucked a stranger in the same room where my wife fucked a different stranger, but I’m hypocritically skeeved at the idea of the club. Simultaneously, I’m recovering from being fat shamed by a lady whose skin is pretty much beef jerky. It’s been a weird night.

We leave, and spend a silent forty five minute ride home. As we turn onto the cul de sac, I try to cut the tension before we go into the house... “man, what an odd bunch of people. I guess we won’t be doing that again, right?” The wife has been stewing for almost an hour. If I know her, she has been replaying the night in her head, over and over. Her voice is tight as she replies, and she almost growls “oh no, we are definitely going back.”

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tagobejoy · 2 months ago

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CONFESSION #1 (Mark): One summer, I had s*x with My Landlady and Her Daughter.

There’s something about being in a new place, far from home, that strips away the rules. You tell yourself it’s just the fresh air, the unfamiliar language, the sense of adventure—but deep down, you know better. It’s the freedom. No past, no baggage, no reputation to protect. Just the here and now. A man freshly divorced, dropped into a quiet Mediterranean town, finds himself in a house with two women—one aching for comfort, the other for something else entirely. You see where this is going, don’t you?

There’s a thrill in the forbidden, an itch that only gets worse when it’s scratched. But here’s the question—was this fate, a slow-burning seduction, or just what happens when you put three lonely people under one roof? Some stories don’t have morals. They just are. And that’s what makes them stick with you.

I’m Sève Noire De Tonga. Welcome to the confession booth—where nothing stays hidden.

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And now the confession!

NSFW

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In 2009, I had just gotten a divorce, still recovering, thank goodness no children. I was working for a firm that specialized in building commercial buildings and was just awarded a contract to build a manufacturing and warehouse in St. Raphael, France. St. Raphael is in the southeast of France near Nice and Cannes on the Mediterranean, in fact, I flew into the Cannes airport and drove 28 miles to St. Raphael. The company needed a project manager to oversee the construction project and manage the local companies supporting the project.

The company had put together a support team that included all the requirements needed to complete the project, materials, utilities, and skilled manpower, with office space. The company knew I did not speak the language so they hired a man who would be my assistant who knew the language and the area. His name was Frederic Masquelier but was told to call him Fred. I was staying in a hotel when I first arrived but it did not suit me, the company had prearranged the lodging, so I was looking to change. I asked Fred what he would recommend because I needed something for a least 6 months, and he would let me know the next day.

The next day Fred told me that his wife had a friend who was renting a room out in her house, it would include meals and a place to park the car. Fred’s wife had a meeting set up with the homeowner that afternoon so I followed Fred after work to the house. Fred pointed me to the door and I knocked, a nice looking lady came to the door and invited me in. She led me in the living room and there on the couch sits a beautiful girl I was guessing about 18, but she was 20. Her mom spoke broken English but the girl spoke fluent English.

They led me around the house and upstairs to my room, and the toilet and bath were at the end of the hall. The mother’s room was downstairs while the daughter was upstairs near the bath. The house was big enough, nice view on the side of the foothills of the mountains overlooking the Mediterranean. The mother was around 40 and she had lost her husband to an industrial accident. The company he worked for had compensated her very well, however, she worked 6 days a week as a shop clerk on commission only, St. Raphael is a big tourist town with about 30K residents who cater to tourists.

The daughter was going to school for cosmetology, she was in the first year of a 2-year school. She had applied for a job with a cruise line upon graduation and was waiting for a response. The mother worked from 1 PM till 9 each day, the daughter went to class till 3 PM, 5 days a week. The mother’s name was Clara and the daughter was Danielle, both really nice and friendly. The house was very homie, Clara said she would fix my breakfast every morning and lunch if I came home for lunch and that Danielle would fix supper, price $400 a week. This was a great deal, so I moved in January 2010. For a week I was getting used to the routine and everyone was on their Ps and Qs for a week or so, after that, everything became more relaxed.

One morning Danielle was going to the bathroom as I was headed that way but she did not see me, she had on panties and a bra. From behind she looked so sexy. Later that week I went to breakfast and Clara was in her robe showing lots of legs with the top a little open showing nice tits. She would sit and with her broken English tell me her husband was killed 2 years ago and she missed him. I was not used to living with 2 beautiful women but Clara began to share her feelings. She told me that she and her husband were not close but they could talk, and now she was feeling lonely. So I told her about my divorce and... the messy divorce!

One morning Clara came to breakfast in a short nightie, barefooted, oh what nice legs and the nightie could not hide her nice breasts, I sat there fully dressed for work but could not stand up because my hard-on would show. I didn’t know if she was testing me but it worked.

Danielle fixed my supper each evening, and during those times we would talk. She wanted to know everything about the USA and would ask about life in the USA, how people dressed, food, and what teenagers did for fun. I had a great time talking to her. One evening she wore a very short house dress with no bra, it was telling, with nice legs like her mother, and small breasts. As she got dinner ready, she would be over and her dress pulled up to her ass, I was getting nervous and getting worked up at the same time. She was doing this on purpose, I could tell. About a month into the stay, Danielle was headed to the bathroom as I was headed that way but she only had on panties but she knew I was there even though she did not turn around. That same morning Clara came to breakfast in a short nightie, this one more reveling.

As Clara was handing me orange juice, it slipped out of her hand and landed in my lap. She grabbed a rag and brushed it off apologizing, and had me stand up and my hard-on was not easy to miss. She unbuckles my belt, unzips my fly and lets my pants drop. Then she drops to her knees and pulls my undies down and my dick hits her in the face. She starts sucking my dick, and I reach down and start playing with her tits. I told her I was going to cum, she jumps up and takes my hand to her bed and we fucked like two wild people. I told her I did not have any condoms. She told me she could not have any more children and wanted me to cum in her. From that day, we fucked almost every day till it was time for me to leave.

Danielle got bolder going to the bathroom each morning; one morning she had no clothes on, and her back was always facing me. One morning she was headed to the bathroom when I shut my door really loud. Danielle turned around and smiled, she was gorgeous. Could not get her off my mind.

Later that week during the evening meal, she leaves the room and comes back in a short tee shirt and sits in my lap, no panties or bra. She asked me if I liked her, and I said yes. She said, "Really like me?", I said yes. She whispers in my ear, she tells me she saw me fucking her mom and she is jealous. She kisses me, then takes off her tee shirt and puts one of her nipples in my mouth, then reaches down to see if I am hard. Of course, I am. She leads me to her bed and I eat her out and she gives me a blowjob, then we fuck and it was great. This went on till I left. She would come into my room at night. I was so worried her mom would come in but she didn’t.

I left a fucked out and exhausted man.

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