My Forbidden Fuck Fantasy Unleashed at the Sade Exhibition
I’m alone in my private locker, the digital vault where I bury my nastiest urges. Pulse racing. Adrenaline surges. No more holding back. I crack it open. Spill the filthiest secret I’ve ever kept. That afternoon at Musée d’Orsay, post-Sade exhibit. Juliette and I, buzzing from depraved art. Orgiastic paintings dripping vice. My cock twitched hard.
Juliette smirks: ‘Two ends to every end, like Devos says.’ I fire back, Rabelais-style: ‘The only one-sided stick’s between my legs.’ She laughs, cups her tits. ‘These have one end each, but two of ’em. Rock-hard after those paintings.’ Fuck, her nipples poke like bullets. Exhibition’s electric, but too heady. Annie Lebrun nailed it—titillating, curious. But we crave action. Before leaving.
Unlocking the Vault of Desire
‘Grab my cockhead with your velvet glove,’ I whisper. ‘Lead me through sadistic sketches to obscene croquis. Cum in the last room.’ She teases: ‘And me? Just cock-walker?’ We swap roles on guide’s cue: ‘Ladies, bare your cunts for diligent fingers. Pants down, no panties.’ She’s game, but wants anal lead. ‘Finger my asshole, I’ll strut ahead.’ Guide too prude for that. Needs monks whipping under robes, bares their cocks per lash.
Fantasies escalate. Her ass needs spanking by lubed friars past raging monk dicks. Organizers got cénobites for backup. Time to fuck wild. Spotted armchairs by Masson’s pervy drawings. ‘Sit on my prick, cowgirl. American corkscrew: straddle, grind deep, yank, cum like dying carp. Six thrusts, I’ll flood you.’ No holding back like prudes. Fart-breeze from her asshole…
But Sade demands cruelty. Her whipped cheeks drip, yet too tame. Need violence in this bland era. Start slow: oil pistons, test the heat. Recall first time she flashed her shop—tight virgin slit. Ate her raw, no creampie risk. Pure desire shook us. Moreau’s paintings shiver my spine. Fuck without lust? Just masturbation.
Climax in the Circle of Cunts and Cocks
She’s soaked, pussy to the wheel. Step two: live show—strangers nude, bound face-to-face. She eats from his mouth, he pisses her slit. Finger his ass, he hardens. Check penetration between sweaty bellies. Filthy: sweat, piss, cum. Strained muscles scream pain. Strangers only—no love to soften it.
Her wolfish scene boners me. Whip out cock, throbbing north. Cézanne’s ‘Strangled Woman’—beauty in cruelty. Sade fantasized, rarely acted. But us? Rodin’s ‘Minotaur and Nymph’: young girl ravaged by beast-man. Dim light, growls. Smooth cunt erupts like volcano. Blood trails thighs. Claws rake belly, ass. He plows her maze, she offers bloody to priapic crowd.
Guide announces: ‘No more pussy-fucks. Anal only. Circle of asses outturned. Ladies, strap dildos. Prize: free pass if shit-streaked cock—Sade’s mark.’ He bares his educated prick for lip-offerings. We enter. Central geezer: balls to knees, limp yo-yo cock. One sodomy, he spurts Lourdes water.
Juliette grabs tulip dildo. I stalk holes. Palpate cheeks rough. Pick welcoming ass. Thrust hard, steady. Balls slap witness. Battle rages. Fundamental blast. Pull out—clean prick. Defeat. Juliette strikes gold, shit-maculated. She scores solo art brut pass. Heart pounds exclusive thrill. Our secret peaks. Raw, shared. Adrenaline fades. Locker seals. Mind light, sated. Craving echoes.
