Well first things first, let’s compare notes on where and when this happened so I can rule myself out as the daddy! 😈🙌😁 Beyond that, sounds like you had quite the few days there! Congrats!
Fun facts. Women are more likely to cheat during their fertile phase. They’re also more likely during that time to go for a classic alpha-male-type (strong jaw, broad, self-confident). Women are more likely to present themselves provocatively when they’re fertile. Finally, women are more likely to accept risky sex while they’re ovulating.
Evolution is such a strict and wily mistress to keep our species going! Also, wow, science is amazing, right? Science!
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That’s what she’s there for. Your doctor believes strongly in sexual health. A lot of guys will lie if you just ask about their sex life, their ability to get erections. But Doctor Freely can’t help if she doesn’t know the truth. So that’s why she employs a sex worker full time, posing as a “naughty nurse.”
One unexpected side-effect is that cheating will often breathe new life into men’s sex lives, their confidence, and their functioning. Some “impotent” men will find that they just needed a change of scenery. Samantha is very good at putting the patients at ease. Spouses and partners benefit from this change, too. Many a patient has reported to Dr. Tachimei Freely that their relationship has suddenly gotten much better.
You hated her but now you’re nothing but grateful to her.
She’d been the worst from the start.
“Ooh, I like your cat-eye glasses. Sometimes I wish I could rock the mousy look,” said the statuesque blonde, looking down at you, the first time you had met. She was a vision; sexy, confident, elegant. “Guys never call me ‘cute,’ y’know?”
She was your fiance’s new business partner. He spoke highly of her and she seemed to hold him in great esteem as well. It was infuriating.
“You’re such a lucky woman to have a man as smart and clever as Ahmed. And so…handsome.” She winked at you. ”You’re such a strong woman. I would just be anxious that he’d find someone better. I’m terribly jealous of your self-assurance. Here you have such a catch and you don’t even wear makeup or go to the gym. You’re totally my hashtag goals.”
This went on for months. You tried to play down your insecurities while telling your fiance what was up. He just laughed and assured you that Janae didn’t mean anything, that her worst crime was being oblivious. He refused to take you seriously. So her comments continued, sometimes right in front of your fiance.
“Your fiance is so adorable, Ahmed! How do you resist just scooping her up like a little girl and pinching her cheeks? Oh, I simply couldn’t not!”
“Heh heh, Vee never lets me. No matter how much I might want to.”
“Vee, Ahmed is strong! I can see it even through his long sleeved shirts. Don’t be afraid he’ll drop you. You’re not that pudgy. I bet with our height difference we weigh the same. 130? Here, pick me up Ahmed. We’ll show her.”
He looked embarrassed and uncertain but Janae insisted until he scooped her into his arms like a groom with a bride. He showed no strain. They looked right together. Both so well dressed, attractive, tall, sexy. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, looking over at you.
“See, Vee? This is easy for such a strapping young man. Let him cuddle you like his sweet little girl.” With that she turned her head to Ahmed, rubbing her cheek along his neck and cheek, stopping when her lips were practically pressed into his ear. Down she whispered huskily. Ahmed shuddered and released Janae quickly, but she managed to uncurl slowly, sliding the full length of her body down his front. She kept her arms around his neck and relaxed into his chest, panting.
“Really, I don’t know how you resist climbing him right here.” She pushed away, pressind her open palms over his chest. “Really, try it. I’m not squeamish.”
You looked to Ahmed and saw a touch of reluctance, shame. Your eyes darted down and saw a very obvious tent in his lightweight work pants. That made you angry and ashamed but also determined. You marched right up to him.
“You seem uncertain,” he interrupted, “Here, let’s start out like this.” He turned around and bent down, offering you a piggy-back ride. It was childish by comparison. But you were too surprised and too stubborn. You went ahead with it and were soon on his back. Was he keeping you from feeling his boner?
“Awww, so cute. Like a tired little toddler. Hmm…maybe you are just a little heavier. Ahmed, do squats and pushups for your fiance so you carry her like you did me.”
Your face burned and you pressed it into his back so she wouldn’t see the tears at your eyes. You felt so humiliated, unsexy, fat…
After that you started changing things. You went to the gym. But not with Ahmed. It was too embarrassing. You really weren’t fat but up against that petite queen you felt so squishy. You got platform shoes and the highest heels you could find. You practically threw out all your old clothes and replaced them with more elegant, mature, sexy outfits. You bought makeup and practiced tutorials online.
Ahmed seemed confused but he also complimented you. And you certainly noticed he initiated sex more often! The sex was very vigorous.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck! Take it,babe, take it! I’m going to fill you right up. You like that? Yeah you do. Fuck, Janae, ahhhh!” And he came, exploding into you.
“What?!”
“Sorry, Vee, I came. It was just so good. Was it too soon?”
“You said Janae.”
“What?! No. No. No. I…did-n’t. I said ba-bay, baby. Sorry, it’s corny. I’m sorry you thought that. You’re my only cutie pie. You know that.”
You didn’t argue the obvious lie. You just excused yourself and went to the bathroom and cried quietly. You’d tried so hard to live up to Janae. But you couldn’t. You weren’t good enough. You weren’t an elegant sex goddess. You were cute. All your trying did was to remind your fiance of her. You took out your phone.
“This is Vee. You win.” You’d stolen her number from Ahmed’s phone weeks ago when looking at their texts. Nothing had really been incriminating.
“I win what, cutie?”
“You know. I admit defeat. You’re the better woman.”
“Honey bunches, there’s no such thing as a better woman. Only different women. Or girls, in your case. We all have different roles we belong in.”
“Well this girl is done. I’ll step aside. You can have him.” Tears steamed down you face, onto the screen.
“Have who? What do you want me to do to him? Tell me, little girl.”
“Take Ahmed! Fuck him! He deserves someone better. Someone hotter. I can’t compete!”
“Is that all?”
“What more do you want?! I give up!”
“I want it all, Vee-Vee. You’re upset because you were in the wrong place. You had a stud. And studs belong to women like me, not little girls like you. Understand?”
You nodded dumbly then typed: “yes.”
“Good. Now you can be happy. You will be happy. You just need to find the right place for little girls like you and accept it. Will you let me help?”
“yes.”
“Okay then. I am going to take Ahmed. I will fuck him. Eventually you will watch. It will be hard for you. You will masturbate while you do. But you will feel happy and right, in your place, for the first time. Got it?”
“yes”
“Are you masturbating now?”
What?! No! You looked down. You were fingering yourself idly. When did that happen? Why did it feel so good?
“yes”
“‘Yes, Mommy.’“
“yes, Mommy”
“Good. Ahmed and I will look after you. You’re an incompetent little girl. You need someone to guide you.”
“thank you, Mommy.”
Your new art exhibit where you were willing to show off “the beauty of the female form” by exposing yourself at a frat party didn’t go how you expected. Your professor gave you a failing grade and the frat took you in after that.
Your old art professor was so mean and sexist! Women had destroyed performance art, he said! It was all bad poetry and buckets of menstrual blood, he said! There was nothing brave and manly anymore in performance art, he said!
Well you decided to show him that women were braver than men ever could be and that performance art could be of interest to both sexes!
You set up a performance at the frat house where your best friend’s bf lived. You were going to show him exactly why women exposing themselves and their feelings was such an important act. You would show him exactly what it was like for a woman to exist bodily in this men’s world.
In the end you were gang-raped by most of the guys. Your best friend’s boyfriend who said he’d protect you just laughed and egged them on, telling you your ‘best friend’ thought you were a “self-righteous cunt who needed to get knocked down a peg. Or knocked up.” He told you how your supposed friend had swapped out your birth control for fakes months ago. You were crying by the time your professor got to the front of the queue and began fucking your fertile pussy.
“Good job, you stupid bitch! You really showed the patriarchy, heh heh. This isn’t art, you moron. This is just you realizing where women really belong; not in art but on their knees! I hope you take this lesson to heart. I’ll help you on your path, though. I’ll make sure you fail out of the art program altogether! This is where cunts belong, not in my class. Say ‘thank you’ now, you whore.”
*sniff* “Thank you, p-p-professor.”
—————-
Your ‘best friend’ kicked you out of the apartment for fucking her boyfriend and being a whore. She made sure everyone knew, and all your friends abandoned you. Even your most sexually liberated feminist friends thought you were a traitor to the sisterhood. It was then a representative from the Frat told you how much money they’d made off of videos of you. He offered to give you room and board if you kept ‘preforming’ for them. That’s how you become a frat house whore.
FOMO
“No no, you can’t back out. Your wife said you’d try that just out of guilt. But no worries, I don’t feel at all like you’re treating me as a unicorn. I like fucking guys in the ass, actually. It’s the only time men really moan like bitches. So don’t worry about me… …I can see you’re still hesitant. Don’t run away! Yes, I locked the door. I want you to get to enjoy this.
And you feel more relaxed already, right? Woozy? Yes, well I did drug your drink just a little. Shh, shh, don’t worry it won’t numb the sensation at all. Just makes it harder for you to get away. Yes, it’s hot in here. Let me take your pants off. And your shirt. Now I’m putting this bra on you. Okay, so your name is Bitch now, okay? Say, ‘my name is Bitch.’ Good, yes! Just like that. Now I’m going to fuck you like a bitch. That seems right, doesn’t it? Good, good.”
JH
Sending one challenge to men, another to rival females
Under-Butt is god. Worship.
He’d always laughed at you for being such a geek, but he’d never thought of doing that until that day. When your boyfriend called him to say he had to work late and cancelled on him, after he’d gone over to your place and used his key to get in, he was about to leave when he noticed your baby. You’d fine tuned that computer to perfection and were just so proud of it….funny how spraying his load all over it felt almost as good as breeding your boy, cuck. Funnier even was knowing you’d come home and, far from freaking out, you’d lick every part of it clean.
“Her newly-wed husband had passed out and the best man carried him to the room…”
“He promised I’d get knocked up tonight. Please, help your best friend keep his promises..while I break mine.”
Millennial women are better educated, earn more, and are more likely to own property than Millennial males. Is it any wonder then that a recent study by Varo Money found that 41% of Millennial men would marry someone who earns more than they do so that their partner can pay off their debts. To compare, only 15% of Millennial women have that aim.
ProblemCollectionLove 