Velvet Evenings
The city was buzzing, but all I could feel was his eyes. A rooftop bar. A silk dress with nothing underneath. A glass of champagne I barely tasted - because the real intoxication was the way he looked at me. We didn’t rush. We let the tension simmer. Let the city watch as we flirted, teased, and made promises with every glance. What followed wasn’t just sex - it was a skyline confession. Slow. Expensive. Filthy in the most decadent way.
Read on if you’ve ever wanted to be fucked like the world was watching - and you didn’t care.
Salt on My Skin
Some places make you forget time. The air tastes like salt and sun. Your skin stays warm long after the beach. And your body? It starts craving touch the way it craves water. This wasn’t rushed. It was slow. Golden. Sticky with sweat and surrender. From a balcony breeze to his hands on my hips, we moved like waves - deep, lazy, endless.
Read on if you’ve know exactly what island heat does to the body.
Part of the Pleasure
There’s a certain magic in the moments before the knock on the door. The perfume still hanging in the air. The silk robe barely tied. The way anticipation curls low in your belly, thick and honey-slow.
This wasn’t just a fuck. It was a return. A remembering. A deep, deliberate undoing. From the first glance to the final breathless moan, we moved like worship - lazy, hungry, tender in all the right places.
Read on if you’ve ever ached to be touched like a prayer.
Heatwave
It started with a breeze off the Brisbane river and the hem of my sundress slipping just a little too high. By sunset, the city was golden, and so was the tension. By midnight, we were soaking in sweat, sex, and something that felt dangerously close to obsession.
This isn’t a love story. It’s a heatwave confession - sticky, slow, and soaked in want.
Read on, if you’re ready to feel it.
Sapphire Hours
Some cities flirt without even trying. Sydney is one of them. A ferry ride, a floaty dress, and the slow burn of anticipation beneath sun-kissed skin. No rush. No pressure. Just lingering touches, shared tiramisu, and a silent promise of what comes next.
This wasn’t a wild night. It was a golden afternoon that turned into something unforgettable - lazy, lingering, and soaked in salt, sun, and sex.
Read on if you’ve believe foreplay starts with a glance - and ends against the window.
Smoke & Silk
Melbourne nights carry a certain kind of hunger. The air is cold, the streets are quiet, and the tension? Electric. All it took was a silk slip under a coast and the promise of bare thighs to send him spiralling. From whispered filth in a cocktail bar to a hotel wall pressed against my back, this wasn’t just a fuck. It was a ritual. A release. A winter indulgence.
Read on if you’ve ever needed someone just to warm you up.
Velvet sin
There’s something about hotel rooms at night - when the city glows beneath you and the sheets feel colder than your skin - and turns everything into a scene. The door was unlocked. The dress was chosen. The mood was already set. He arrived like he was stepping into a fantasy. But I wasn’t there to be unwrapped…
I was there to take my time. To tease, to dominate. To make sure that after tonight, no other woman would taste quite right.
Read on, if you’re ready to surrender.
Heat Rising
I enter the suite. He’s there, just as told. Completely naked, champagne poured, muscles taut with anticipation. I take in the sight of him—strong, controlled, kneeling like a gift. His cock is already hard, leaking at the tip.
Low Light, Warm Skin
The night had started with wine and conversation, but by the time dessert was served, he’d pulled me onto his lap and made me wet with just his fingers tracing my thigh. Back at mine, he had me bent over the kitchen bench before I could even close the door. He didn’t just fuck me—he explored every inch of me like a man starved. Tongue, fingers, cock—he used them all until I was a trembling mess begging for more.
The Red Room Surprise
I bite my lip, rereading the message as heat pools low in my belly. I already know what I’ll wear—the barely-there red lace set that I hadn’t dared to try on until today. I strip down, watching myself in the mirror as I slide the soft lace panties over my hips. The bra lifts and exposes just enough to tempt, while the garter belt clings to my waist like a whisper of sin.