Another Dirty Little Cock

Hey. How are you? How about your little drogo? Is it ok? Your little cock that you proud so much, cause when you got erection it will grow. Harder. Bigger. Massive. And so you can fuck a woman you wants.

I met you, for the first time, and yeah I feel comfort. You gave me things I want–hugs, forehead kisses.. You let my head lays on your chest. You touched me tender, slowly and soft… You made me feel loved.

And I gave you shits you wants. We fucked. Your drogo woke up for twice and I made it sleep again for twice too.

Thats a new things for me–when you touched and shaked my pussy with your gentle fingers. I love that, honestly–and everythings you gave to me. Even we met just for two or three hours. It doesn’t matter, although I want you longer, I let you go and I felt like hunger.

Shit happened. I miss you.

I need more.

Do not talk about feelings. I tried so hard to not put some feelings for you, on my head. I talk to myself like everytime to not put some hopes on this kinda win win relation-fucking-ship. Like you thought before, “I’ll stop give you fucking cuddles, besides you give me your fucking voices”.

And you said I didn’t treat you right?

We fucked and you said that just because I wont give you my voice?

Hey dude, what I gave to you is more. You know my shits stories as well, and you said that? And you stop this kinda relationship by yourself? Ck. You’re so selfish.

We have rules. To not put kinda feelings and I said OK, and I was never think about my feelings even it hurts while YOU KNOW A WAN WHO YOU FUCKED WAS NEVER LOVES YOU. Thats hurt. Don’t you ever think about that, dude?

And you force me to do things I wont. Thats my voice and I will never send that shitty voice to anyone. Same as photos. If you want me, just come on to me, fucking dude. I want your body too but I dont need your photos or virtually things. Cause you know? I will never trust anyone again. It hurts me too much while I trust people and I am hoping again.

That’s ok, if you choosed to make this game end too fucking fast, so you can find another girl who can fullfill your needs, but not me, if what you want is “virtual things”. You can looking for virtual things in many ways–porn videos, internet.

But I am real. For you. So you are. So, stop asking for that stupid things. If you wanna fuck, just fuck me hard, hey dirt little cock! Dont fuck with shadow.

We made a schedule, right?

If you don’t come, so maybe that day will be our first and last meeting. Thats up to you, dude. I’m not hoping, but if you wanna come, my pussy is ready.

Xoxo,

A woman who missed your “man” voice.

Advertisements

Making Love is about you and me, not your cock and my pussy

This post is dedicated to people who think that making love is all about pleasure of sex itself. Like I thought, sex is about your genital thing, but making love..  isn’t about that “genital” thing only. Making love is about “you” and “your partner”–about me and you.

If you think that your partner is happy enough to have sex with you just because he/she sexually arroused with your good smelly body or your heavy voice or your hands which touched her/his body, especially their sensitive parts… you are selfish.

Don’t you think that they’re not enjoy doing that things with you? Just because they got their climax? Do you ever think that they are hiding something? Do you ever ask him/her about what they feel?

No?

So, you are selfish. Kamu bangsat!

You put too much desires on your head, but you’ve been forgot the most important thing: feelings. How you both feel about each other–about the taste of your lips and body, what you and he/she wear before you two make a love, how you look each other…

Hey, men…

I got wet, and your cock worked in my pussy and my “naked” voice out from my mouth, thats all not a sign, that I want you to fucked me. At that night, and many nights before. So you’ve been failed to make me feel you.

Sometimes I did enjoy. But “no” in many times.

Cause you always put too much pressure to me and my pussy even its not ready yet. You let me drunk…. another let me telling my stories…. another gave me compliments… another pushed me to put trust on him…

And the end was same. You all gone.

You.. maybe you always think that “woman” likes that sexual thing. But honestly.. “NO”. Sex is not a thing. My pussy isn’t a thing that you can use all the time while you need. I don’t have such a big heart to give what I have to you who never understand that I don’t need your cock to makes me feel satisfy,

Don’t you understand what we need, hey, men?

We need affections. We need touches. We need kisses. We need cares.

So I never feel satisfied because you only treat my pussy, not me. I am a woman. I feel… Don’t be selfish because of your needs–your desires. Cause we don’t need that thing except you can give affections with your tender hands touches, sweet talk, hugs….

Do not ever think that I like it, when you fucked me. Cause making love is about you and me, not your cock which success entering my pussy.

Thanks, assholes!

What Makes Me Cry After We Make A Love

I felt too emotional at that night. First thing what I thought was… Why I am so fucking despicable. I am so poor. I am a fucking whore. And the man besides me was never loved me–maybe till now. I felt it, I fucking felt it! I am not blind. I can see those from your eyes. I can see those things from your things that you did to me. You like… I know that you weren’t feel satisfy I knew that. I knew that you expected more than what I gave to you.

And after you threw your sperm inside my body, and you asked me about my feelings and I did answer that I couldnt feel anything. I felt nothing. It comes too fast. I didn’t feel like.. spray neither something warm inside my V like you said before. And you just… take your phone and I didnt know what you did then.

I went to toilet, and after that I saw you watching a movie–movie that playing a film you choosed that we should watch but we did not cause you force me to did thing I wont–fucking.

And my brain was turned crazy. Every memories from the first we chatted–what did you said about love and this kinda relationship… and I felt like I am a fool. You made me fool. You tricked me. You wasn’t a right man. I am wrong.

Then I cried. And you know this.

These are the reasons why I’m crying at that night after we fucked:

  1. You forced me too hard to make a love with you. I didn’t enjoy that things when you pushed me to suck your cock, and licked your body. I didn’t want it–at that time. I wanted to spend my time with you by doing right things like cuddling and sharing stories, watching movies, laughing together… So we can knowing each other.
  2. We didn’t play “the foreplay things” yet. And you force me to fuck in WOT position, and you asked me to change our position, and you pushed your cock too hard while my V wasn’t ready yet. I got hurt, dude. You injured my V, also hurted my heart.
  3. You forgot “the afterplay things”. So I felt like a whore who had a job to fuck a man and make him satisfy. So, after that happened, I just nothing. I didn’t felt any loves from your eyes.

I am so sorry. That night became an emotional night ever. I never cry in front of man but you. So please do not ever do that bad things again. I am still hoping for you–your love, your promises. I’m sorry cause I cant tell you this at that night while you asked me why cause I was shock, so I couldn’t say anything, and Im so sorry.

However, me still hoping. I wish we can fix it yet, so we can walk through the days after and after. Maybe I like you, and I am hoping. Please…

PS: I miss you. I want to kiss you.

Regards,

Woman who you fucked 3 days ago.

Is it the last?

Hello, man number 14!

How are you? Do you miss me–my pussy? Do you ever wonder why you fucked me and… do you get the answer? Do you ever had a kinda gloomy feeling like me at this time when you think about “fucking me”?

Is that night will be our last night ever? Cause you did not reply my chat and I thought maybe you hide me–you leave. Dont you ever want to fuck me and throw your sperm inside my body? We made a schedule right? This week, while I’m not in my ovulation days, so I wont get pregnant.

But there’s no you.

You’re not reply my chat till today. And I dont know any possibilities about our next story. Maybe that night was the last night for us to fuck. Or maybe you just wanna get some rest cause your task which made you crazy already. Or you just… do not need to fuck cause we just had sex several days ago.

Which one are you?

Leave me cause you already knew that I put some feelings on you.

Leave me cause you have found a new one who can fulfill your needed.

Or…. you do not want me cause you just need sex?

Please, I wanna know the answer cause I fucking am gloomy at the night after our last sex. I was so insane at that time while I asked you “How about me?” After you asked me “Do you like it?” And I said yes and I fucking asked you back again and you said yes.

And you did not answer my fucking important question.

And the next day was so different (again). Why? Cause you like my pussy than myself, right? I already knew the answer is.

Hey, man. I want you to fuck me everyday. I like things related to you–your cultural collection, the way you play your favorite game, your good smelly hair, your voice, anything. How it can be so difficult to me to stay normal like before we meet for the first time?

I put many feelings on this kinda pleasure things.

Can we have another meet? Another fuck?

.

.

 

Regards,

A woman who miss your things too much.

Number 14.

Fuck. I miss you.

It does matter. So I choosed to not understand. Cause we are different things which consist of different taste also feelings, so we can not grow together as one thing. I knew at that time, although I still had a good feeling of you–that you will never fuck me, but I want it too, at that night, honestly. I saw you were different kind of man I knew before. Always.. fuck I always think like this. I thought that you’re like kinda good man who really needs friends–yeah, friends to fucked, and I just realized, how fool!

We’re different things which can not become a thing. I need someone who can stand by myside-who always give me that touch in my head (kinda touch you gave to me at that fucking night), who like to put his arm in my shoulder so we’re become intens (like you did to me), who always put my name on his head so he will always ask for my things like.. “How are you?” or “How the days going?” or “What do you feel today? Any problems?”

And you are not.

You touched me.. you put your arm on my shoulder… you asked me “ngantuk belum?” are because you want to fuck me. So, you think that the first step to get my pussy. And yeah, you did it–we did it. And I love your voices. That kinda pleasure’s thing to me. And once again, I love it.

I already knew, at that time you fucked me. However, I still fucking fool as I do cause I thought–believe that after the first time we fucked, and you asked me again for many things I know (about my tasks, my days, my man before you, how I lost everything cause fucking selfish cock, etc). So I felt that you are a good one. You want me cause you want me as myself, not me cause my pussy.

We did it again, then. It takes a longer time, and yeah you pushed your cock to my pusy harder and faster and wild… and you had your second orgasm then. And I couldn’t believe how I felt my lips which still stuck in your lips. And I love that kisses.

And we ended that game by your sleepy head, and I didnt feel that I am going to sleep cause I was thinking… Shit. What just I did?

For the nest day… At the morning after the fucking night… you were so different. You’re so mean, I can feel  it. You said, “Use the seatbelt.” Like… with sounds like… Hey, man I know that, I am not a fool. And there’s no last words from you, after you stop the car and I go out the car and go. I still thinking that.. oh.. maybe thats because your appointment which out of the time.

You were different. And I feel it until now.

I am a fool. And I already falling and I dont know how to wake up. Can you help me?

Cause I fucking miss you.

 

Regards,

Woman number four you fucked.

 

 

Dan, Mana Etikamu?

Pelacur saja dibayar. Pelacur saja dapatkan sesuatu dari apa yang ia beri. Lalu aku apa? Apa nama untuk wanita yang melacur namun tak dibayar?

Aku lebih hina dari wanita yang tak dibayar, kau tahu?

Mereka bisa hidup dengan receh yang mereka dapat. Sedang aku tidak, malah sebaliknya. Menghabiskan uang untuk membeli rokok, lalu menghirupnya hingga mual… entah berapa tahun lagi aku akan hidup.

Bahkan jika aku mati pun aku tak punya bekal apapun selain dosa yang kutenteng di pundak. Mungkin di alam sana nanti dosaku akan menjelma parang yang menancap di kelamin saking dulu aku pernah menikmati batang selangkanganmu.

Bahkan untuk melupamu aku relakan kelaminku dimasuki oleh sembarang kelamin yang ada. Tak dapat aku bayangkan kalau penyakit mematikan datang padaku. Lagi-lagi aku tak punya bekal. Dan kau biarkan saja aku mati perlahan sedang aku selalu tak pernah siap untuk mati.

Abdan yang terhormat.

Aku membencimu demi apapun. Aku benci ketika kau hanya datang, dan dalam pesan itu yang kau tanya pertama kali adalah keberadaanku, seolah kakimu siap melangkah ke tempatku ada detik itu juga. Seolah keberadaanku dapat melemaskan kelaminmu yang tegang.

Lalu ketika jawaban tidak sesuai, kau menghilang lagi. Seolah mencari yang lebih potensial yang bisa kau setubuhi detik itu juga.

Di mana etikamu?

Kita sama-sama butuh kelamin, Abdan.

Maka gunakan etikamu–oke kecuali memang kau tak pernah diajarkan untuk itu. Pelacur pun dapat penghargaan. Ia dibayar. Sedang aku apa namanya?

Aku bukan wanita yang kau bayar untuk melemaskan kelaminmu, tapi kau perlakukan aku semaumu. Datang ketika butuh, pergi tanpa mengucap salam perpisahan, lalu menghilang. Lalu kau ulangi lagi bulan depannya.

Apa aku ini, Dan?

Aku pun membenci temanku, sahabatku sendiri yang tak punya etika begini. Datang ketika butuh, senang ia di tempat lain. Lalu aku bersusah payah terlepas dari rasa kecewa, hingga aku lakukan apa yang kusuka–menyakiti diri sendiri.

Apalagi pada kau, orang asing yang kubiarkan masuk. Aku membiarkan orang asing menghinaku. Kurang hina apa aku, Dan?

Abdan, aku merindukamu, demi apapun.

Aku rindukan malam-malam kita bersama, melakukan apa yang kita berdua suka. Aku rindu kecupanmu yang datang berkali-kali. Aku rindu kau belai rambutku yang tak panjang. Aku rindukan lenganmu yang kau serahkan begitu saja untuk jadi bantal malamku. Aku rindu ucapan selamat pagi darimu. Aku rindu kau panggil sayang.

Maka tak bisa kah kau menghargaiku sebagai orang yang menyayangimu?

Sampai aku mau mati, Abdan, aku merindukanmu dan menangis tiap malam berharap dikasihani bulan. Sampai aku mau mati, Dan, terisak di bawah bantal, sambil mengapit tanganku dengan selangkangan, berharap ditemani angin malam. an aku takut untuk itu.

Iya. Ada bulan dan angin. Namun aku tetap kesepian, Dan.

Maka tolong beretikalah sedikit. Sedikit, saja. Lakukan ini untukku.

Please, demi aku.

.

.

Dari wanita yang hampir mati diguyur rasa iba pada diri sendiri.

Mimpi (terlanjur) Basah

7808f4a5235a3dd62bcff70d020bcbf8

Source: pinterest.

Namaku rindu, yang berlabuh pada malam hari di kepala bocah yang lama tak diisi cinta. Maka ia sangat senang ketika aku datang dalam tidurnya yang damai. Silahkan rasakan nikmatnya bersetubuh dengan yang kau cinta, aku akan memberimu waktu barang satu malam–waktu untuk kau berdua dengannya.

Maka aku munculkan bayang lelaki terakhir yang ia setubuhi. Penuh dengan gurat bahagia, wajahnya di malam yang gelap itu. Gerakan di selangkangan membuat kelaminnya kedutan bukan main. Ia suka dirasuki kelamin lelaki.

Kemudian ia tersadar, bahwa wajah lelaki di atasnya telah berubah menjadi wajah datar lelaki berkacamata yang ia kenal. Tak lupa dengan kumis tipis dan gigi gingsulnya.

Maka aku biarkan ia terbangun, masih dengan nama lelaki yang ia sukai sejak hampir enam tahun terakhir, dan masih kubiarkan kelaminnya kedutan membuat ia memeluk tangannya sendiri di antara selangkangannya.

Ia tersadar. Kenyataan kembali. Bahwa yang tadi itu mimpi, dan tak pernah ada lelaki di atas ranjang yang ia tiduri. Ia bermimpi. Mimpi yang telanjur membasahi tubuh dan isi kepalanya denganku–rasa rindu.

Aku belum puas.

Dua malam setelahnya aku kembali merasuk ke dalam mimpi perempuan kasihan ini. Dengan bayang-bayang kehilangan yang lebih jelas. Aku membuatnya mendengar kabar bahwa kekasih hatinya –yang ia sukai sejak lima tahun terakhir- mati karena kelelahan.

Ia tak begitu percaya, namun ia sesak juga. Ia menangis ketika menemui kawan-kawannya yang mengatakan kebenaran kematian kekasih hatinya.

Ia bersedih, sesak, seperti ada benda yang menekan kerongkongannya. Dan ia terbangun, dengan mata terbuka lebar. Beberapa menit kemudian ia menyadari bahwa itu hanya mimpi. Kehilangan itu hanya bunga tidur.

Lagi-lagi aku berhasil datang menghantui kepala dan hatinya. Mau kau tolak pun, aku akan tetap datang, bahkan semakin menjadi. Karena aku adalah rindu yang tanpa kau sadari ada dalam benakmu. Maka mau kau usir aku dengan cara apapun, itu tak akan berhasil.

Selamat menikmati mimpi yang terlanjur membuatku datang, hai perempuan kasihan!

Dari rindu,

yang bergumul dalam benakmu sejak lama.