Sweet Rush: Dirty Little Diaries

FORBIDDEN RECORDING

CHAPTER SEVEN: FORBIDDEN RECORDING

Emma stood in the middle of her quiet living room, her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat. Her husband had been gone for two days on another business trip, leaving her alone in their big, empty house. The silence was suffocating. And so was the aching need between her legs.

She had tried to behave. She really had.

But every time she looked out the window and saw Marcus next door. The tall, broad-shouldered neighbor with that deep voice and the way he looked at her like he wanted to devour her. Her body betrayed her. Her p***y would throb, her n*****s would harden, and her mind would spiral into filthy fantasies she had no right to have.

Tonight, the ache was unbearable.

With trembling hands, Emma carried her phone into the bedroom. She propped it up against the pillows on the bed, adjusted the angle so it would capture everything, and hit record. The small red light blinked on like a dirty little secret.

She let her silk robe slip off her shoulders and pool at her feet. She was completely naked underneath. Her full breasts felt heavy, n*****s already tight and aching. She climbed onto the bed, spread her thighs wide for the camera, and reached for her toys. The powerful pink vibrator and the thick, veined realistic dildo she had bought in secret.

“f**k… Marcus,” she whispered into the empty room, her voice already breathy with need.

She turned on the vibrator. The low, buzz filled the air as she pressed the buzzing head directly against her swollen c**t. Her hips jerked violently at the sudden pleasure.

“Oh my god…” she moaned, circling the vibrator slowly at first, then faster. Her free hand grabbed the thick dildo, slicked it generously with lube, and pressed the fat head against her dripping entrance.

She pushed it in.

A long, shameless moan tore from her throat as the thick silicone stretched her open, sliding deep into her hungry p***y. She could feel every ridge, every vein as she worked it in and out, f*****g herself with slow, deep strokes while the vibrator tortured her c**t.

“Mmm… Marcus,” she gasped louder, her eyes fluttering. “I wish this was your c**k… I wish you were the one stretching me open like this.”

Her hips started rolling, f*****g herself harder. The wet, obscene sounds of the dildo plunging in and out of her soaked cunt filled the room. Her juices were dripping down her ass, coating the sheets. She turned the vibrator up higher and cried out, her back arching off the bed.

The first orgasm hit her like a freight train.

“f**k—! Marcus!” she screamed, her thighs shaking violently as her p***y clenched and spasmed around the thick dildo. She kept thrusting it through her climax, drawing it out, making herself ride every wave.

But she didn’t stop.

Panting, flushed, and desperate for more, she kept the vibrator pressed firmly against her oversensitive c**t and f****d herself even harder with the dildo. Her breasts bounced with every thrust. Sweat glistened on her stomach and thighs.

“God, I’m such a dirty slut,” she moaned to the camera. “f*****g myself thinking about my neighbor… imagining him bending me over and ruining my married p***y…”

The second orgasm crashed into her even harder. She squirted this time. A clear rush of wetness soaking the dildo and the sheets beneath her. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, but she kept going, chasing the high.

By the time the third orgasm ripped through her, she was a sobbing, whimpering mess.

“Marcus… please… f**k me,” she cried out, voice hoarse and broken. Her entire body convulsed as pleasure bordered on pain. She shoved the dildo as deep as it would go and held the vibrator mercilessly against her swollen c**t until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Only then did she switch everything off and collapse back onto the bed, chest heaving, thighs shiny with her own c*m.

For a long moment, she just lay there, naked, spent, and glowing with shame and satisfaction.

Then she picked up her phone. The red light was still blinking. The video had captured everything.

Emma’s hands shook as she opened her messages, found Marcus’s contact, and attached the video. Her thumb hovered over the send button for several agonizing seconds.

“f**k it,” she whispered.

She hit send.

Emma dropped the phone onto the bed, her heart racing wildly as she stared at the ceiling. What had she just done?

A minute later, her phone buzzed.

Marcus had replied.