I felt especially pulled to enter the
#ThatsMyKink competition because this kink of mine doesn’t show up in my shop listings—but it absolutely lives in my mind. Loudly. Constantly. Breeding. Creampies. Getting pumped full and dripping like I was made for it. I can’t help it—my brain short-circuits at the thought of being used, filled, and bred like I’m nothing but a pretty little incubator. Ruined lingerie, shaking legs, a thumb in my mouth and someone whispering that they hope it takes? Yeah. That’s the fantasy I can’t shake.
The twist? I’m bisexual, sure. But I’m dating a woman. A beautiful, smug, strap-wielding goddess of a woman who knows I crave it and teases me mercilessly. “You’re lucky you’re mine,” she whispers, watching me squirm when I see a certain bulge on screen. I know she’s right. I wouldn’t trade her for the world. But sometimes… just sometimes… I ache to be raw and reckless. To be taken and used until I’m messy and ruined. It’s not about reality—it’s about surrendering to the fantasy. That primal pull. The delicious ache of denial.
Thank you so much to
@SmartImpulse and
@bionicbeauty for hosting a space where kinks like mine don’t have to hide in the shadows. 💕 This one’s for the drippy daydreamers.