Here in my cramped bedroom, I unlock my Private Locker. The one in my head where I stash my dirtiest secrets. Tonight, I spill it all. For you. The thrill hits hard—heart pounding, pussy tingling. I’ve always picked up strays. Lost dogs. Lost women. Like that German bitch last year. Freezing night by the river….
In my private locker— that mental vault where I stash the filthiest secrets— I finally cracked. Rain-soaked Doc Martens squeaked on the floor of La Fêlure, that hidden lingerie den reeking of dark vanilla and worn leather. I wasn’t hunting sin; just drowning post-breakup blues in cheap wine. But the black satin set called. String…
I unlock my private locker. Fingers shake. Screen glows in my dark bedroom. This secret claws inside me. Strasbourg garret, late summer 16th century. My hidden world. Mortars, pestles, flasks crowd the space. Alambic hums. Belladonna jar stares back, labeled bold. Sun pours through skylight, gold fire on my skin. Thin chemise clings, short, split…
Here in my bedroom, late at night, I unlock my Private Locker. That mental vault where I stash the filthiest secrets. Tonight, I spill it. The winter rain pounds outside. It’s past ten. My religion history TD drags on till nine. Boring as hell. We doodle sudokus, ignore the monk’s drivel. Professor glances hate our…
Here, in my mind’s private locker, behind that ancient tree stump in Sylvaar’s depths, I finally crack. We’ve escaped the Bloody Plateau. Blood crusts my skin. I’m naked, chained scars throbbing. Rerdan, the orc shaman who saved me, slumps wounded. Our worg, Ourajii, dying. No more holding back. My desires flood out. That thrill of…