Filthy Obsessions. A Filthy Collection Of Forbidden desires

** Trigger Warning** This collection is not safe. Not for your morals. Not for your comfort. Inside these pages, you’ll find public degradation, corruption of innocence, voyeurism, c*m worship, daddy kinks, strap-ons, virgin ruin, twisted love, and begging that sounds a lot like prayer. There are no safe words here. Only wrong men. Wet sheets. And women who stop pretending they want to be saved. If you’ve ever said “just one more chapter” with a hand between your thighs Welcome to Filthy Obsessions. The elevator ride made her wetter. Sariah had worn nothing under the trench coat except a red lace thong and a push-up bra that barely contained her t**s. She’d sprayed perfume between her thighs, tied her hair up the way he liked. She touched herself in the backseat of the Uber. Twice. First was a quick rub against her thigh while imagining his c**k slamming into her over the desk. Second was full fingers down the front, pressing her c**t hard through her panties until she bit her lip and tasted blood. But she didn’t finish. Not yet. She wanted him to finish her. If he could still do it. She was done waiting. Six years married. Two since he made her scream. Now, she was walking into his office to remind him who the f**k he married. When she walked in, Keon looked up from his desk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tie loose, hair messy. f**k. He was still sexy. Just… useless in bed lately. “Sariah?” he blinked. “Everything okay?” She dropped the coat. And his eyes went wide. Her t**s bounced slightly with the move, full and firm in the lace cups. Her n*****s were already hard, n*****s dark through the fabric. Below, her p***y shaved, wet, and barely covered by red strings soaked from the ride over. Her p***y peeked through the tiny triangle of her thong, soaked, creamy, glistening. “Sariah, what” “I missed being f****d,” she said, walking toward him. “Thought I’d remind you what’s waiting at home.” He stood, stunned. His c**k was already growing in his pants. She grabbed his tie, pulled him in, kissed him rough—tongue, spit, teeth. Then she dropped to her knees, She unzipped him fast. His c**k sprang out—already growing, half-hard in her fist. Thick. Gorgeous. Half-hard. “God, I missed this d**k,” she breathed. “So thick… so f*****g good when it’s hard.” He groaned. “You can’t just” “Shut up.” She licked up the side, slow, then wrapped her lips around the head, tasting his pre-c*m on her tongue. “f**k, baby,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me c*m already.” Her mouth bobbed on his c**k, spit dripping down her chin. She took him deep, choking a little, eyes locked on his while her hand slipped between her thighs. He grabbed her head. “s**t, that mouth” She licked from the base up, slow, tongue dragging across every inch. Then she opened wide and took him in, lips sealing around his shaft with a dirty slurp. Keon’s head dropped back. “s**t, baby…” She sucked him like she meant it. Mouth slick, throat relaxed. She pulled him deeper until he hit the back, until her spit dripped down her chin, until she had to grip the base just to keep from choking. He grabbed her hair. His c**k throbbed. “Goddamn—don’t stop. That mouth… f**k—” She didn’t stop. Not until she felt it: That shift. That slow, dreaded loss of tension. He twitched… then softened. Mid-thrust. Mid-f*****g moan, his d**k wilted. She froze. Pulled off. Stared. Keon looked down in horror. “Wait—I—I don’t know what happened.” Her eyes were glassy. Her lips still wet. Her hand trembled on his thigh. “It happened again,” she whispered. “You can’t even stay hard when I’m half-naked on my knees?” He grabbed her wrist. “Baby, I’m sorry. I want you, I do—I’m just stressed. Work’s been hell—” “Stop.” She stood up. Shaking. Furious. Devastated. “Do you even f*****g see me anymore?” Keon looked broken. “Let me make it up to you,” he begged. “Please.” Keon looked panicked. “f**k—I’m sorry, baby. I swear I don’t know why—” “Is it me?” she hissed. “Is it my body? My mouth? My p***y? What the f**k is wrong with you?” She stood too—angry, heartbroken, dripping with a need that wasn’t going anywhere. “I came here to f**k you. To remind you I’m yours. I was ready to bend over that desk, beg for your c**k, ride you until we broke the chair” “Sariah” “Instead you gave me a soft d**k and excuses.” Her panties clung to her p***y lips, completely soaked from anticipation. Her c**t throbbed, desperate for friction. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or ride the desk lamp just to prove a point. But then she looked at him. And he looked… destroyed. “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice rough. “Let me try again. Please. Let me taste you.” She crossed her arms. “No.” He dropped to his knees anyway. He kissed her inner thighs, slow. Gentle. His fingers traced the edge of her thong, pulling it aside, revealing her p***y—creamy, hot, slick with frustration. “You’re so f*****g wet,” he whispered. “Of course I am. I wanted to be used.” He licked her, soft at first. His tongue dragged through her folds, tasting the mess she’d made for him. She grabbed the back of his head and forced him deeper. “Eat it like you want to keep me,” she snapped. He tried. Tongue working, lips sucking her c**t, fingers sliding in slow. It felt good. Almost. But not enough. “Harder,” she moaned. “Faster. Stop teasing. I need to f*****g c*m” He sped up. She rocked her hips, used his face, rode his mouth like a c**k. For a second, she felt the edge Almost there Then he changed the rhythm. Slowed down. She snapped. “f**k off.” She pushed him back. “Stop pretending like you know what you’re doing,” she spat. “You don’t. You used to wreck me. Now you f**k me like I’m fragile.” “I was trying” “Trying doesn’t make me c*m, Keon.” He stood. Silent. Broken. His lips shiny from her p***y, his c**k still soft. She grabbed her coat and opened her purse. “Someone gave me this.” She dropped a black envelope on his desk. “An elite s*x club. They said it saves marriages. I told them mine was dying. And they said if you can’t fix it…” She turned to leave. He opened the envelope. Inside was a black card. One word printed in deep silver: Come. And beneath it, a handwritten note: “If you can’t make her c*m… I will.