You may have walked down the aisle in it, but it belongs to her now.

You may have walked down the aisle in it, but it belongs to her now.

(via domesticated-wife)

I cry with relief every time I feel my husband’s palm against my twat. I can’t help myself. It’s been so long since he’s touched me at all, that I’ll take any kind of physical contact I can get!

I cry with relief every time I feel my husband’s palm against my twat. I can’t help myself. It’s been so long since he’s touched me at all, that I’ll take any kind of physical contact I can get!

(via sirsplayground)

Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way. Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way. Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way. Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way. Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way. Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way.

Bet you wish you could taste it, huh, little quean. Oh, I can hear you all right, panting on the other side of the door. Sometimes I wonder what must be going through your silly little head at times like these. Then I remember that I really don’t care. I’m in your bed with your man, his cock thrusting in and out of my holes, and you’re out there, alone and desperate, trying to remember what it feels like to have an orgasm. And the funny thing is, I don’t think you’d have it any other way.

(via assfuckingbuttlovin)

You’re not a person, you’re a thing. But at least they let you in the room with them.

You’re not a person, you’re a thing. But at least they let you in the room with them.

(via cuckqueaning)

I don’t even have to be asked anymore. When my Mistress goes into the bathroom, I follow her—eagerly, like a little dog, on my hands and knees. Sometimes she sends me away, unable to stand the sight of something as servile and pathetic as I am, but other times, like on date nights, she lets me stay. Those times are what I live for. When I’m not only allowed to touch her superior body, but I’m required to. Once my face makes contact the flesh between her legs, I’m not allowed to break it until she says. It could be a few seconds, or it could be an hour. Doesn’t matter what she’s doing, or how many time she cums, I’m to have my tongue in one hole in my nose, or else suffer the consequences.

I don’t even have to be asked anymore. When my Mistress goes into the bathroom, I follow her—eagerly, like a little dog, on my hands and knees. Sometimes she sends me away, unable to stand the sight of something as servile and pathetic as I am, but other times, like on date nights, she lets me stay. Those times are what I live for. When I’m not only allowed to touch her superior body, but I’m required to. Once my face makes contact the flesh between her legs, I’m not allowed to break it until she says. It could be a few seconds, or it could be an hour. Doesn’t matter what she’s doing, or how many time she cums, I’m to have my tongue in one hole in my nose, or else suffer the consequences.

(via textmesomethingdirty)

I may get a front row seat, but that’s still a far cry from being a participant. While she swallows my husband’s cock in preparation for a long, hard, slow and thorough fucking, I’m only allowed to watch, to stew in my own juices, as permanently chaste as a nun.

(via in-morpheus-arms)

As a quean, I know my place. I am an accessory. I participate only when I’m needed, either to prepare someone for sex, or clean them up afterwards. I’m happy to act as a receptacle for the whatever fluids are produced by either of their bodies. In fact, it’s a rare treat for me to be allowed to lick my husband’s cum from her superior, well-fucked cunt. As a quean, I know my place. I am an accessory. I participate only when I’m needed, either to prepare someone for sex, or clean them up afterwards. I’m happy to act as a receptacle for the whatever fluids are produced by either of their bodies. In fact, it’s a rare treat for me to be allowed to lick my husband’s cum from her superior, well-fucked cunt. As a quean, I know my place. I am an accessory. I participate only when I’m needed, either to prepare someone for sex, or clean them up afterwards. I’m happy to act as a receptacle for the whatever fluids are produced by either of their bodies. In fact, it’s a rare treat for me to be allowed to lick my husband’s cum from her superior, well-fucked cunt. As a quean, I know my place. I am an accessory. I participate only when I’m needed, either to prepare someone for sex, or clean them up afterwards. I’m happy to act as a receptacle for the whatever fluids are produced by either of their bodies. In fact, it’s a rare treat for me to be allowed to lick my husband’s cum from her superior, well-fucked cunt. As a quean, I know my place. I am an accessory. I participate only when I’m needed, either to prepare someone for sex, or clean them up afterwards. I’m happy to act as a receptacle for the whatever fluids are produced by either of their bodies. In fact, it’s a rare treat for me to be allowed to lick my husband’s cum from her superior, well-fucked cunt.

As a quean, I know my place. I am an accessory. I participate only when I’m needed, either to prepare someone for sex, or clean them up afterwards. I’m happy to act as a receptacle for the whatever fluids are produced by either of their bodies. In fact, it’s a rare treat for me to be allowed to lick my husband’s cum from her superior, well-fucked cunt.

(via ass-fuck-em-n-chuck-em)

Your husband is sweet but firm. “Sorry sweetie,” he says, “but you know I can’t let you out—Michelle’s orders. If it were up to me, I would take the handcuffs off. But you know very well that you’re not supposed to touch yourself without permission, and she caught you twice, so obviously you can’t be trusted. Give it a little time, maybe a month or two, and we can talk about leaving you alone with her hands free again. Okay? Love you, honey.”

(via sweet-tartz)

Every time you look in a mirror, all you can think about is her. How her skin is flawless, her tits are bigger, and her tummy is flatter. She’s got a better ass, longer legs, and doesn’t need glasses. It doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks. As far as you’re concerned, when you’re comparing yourself to something that’s perfect, you’ll never be anything more than second best.

(via feminisogyny)

Tease and denial. Even her husband is getting in on the fun. Bringing her right to the edge, then stopping, so she never gets the release her body so desperately craves.

Tease and denial. Even her husband is getting in on the fun. Bringing her right to the edge, then stopping, so she never gets the release her body so desperately craves.

(via b--i--g)