I Discovered a Fetish That Took My Breath Away

Hello, whoever you are reading this. I’m not really sure why I’m writing it, I suppose because there are things a woman needs to tell someone even if that someone has no face or name. I’m twenty-four years old and, as strange as it sounds at this age, I’m still figuring out what I like. My body is a territory I’ve only just started mapping, and every so often I find a new corner that leaves me shaking.

That afternoon was one of those times.

It was an ordinary Thursday, one of those days when the house falls silent and time stretches out. I was bored, restless, with that energy that piles up in my lower belly when I have nothing to do. The truth is I’m almost always like that, turned on by just about anything, but that day I wanted something different. I wanted to find out what I was in the mood for, what kind of appetite my desire was in. My underwear had already stuck to my cunt from thinking dirty thoughts, and when I ran my hand over my pants I felt the soft, hot bulge of my lips, swollen as if they’d been begging for attention for hours.

So I did what I sometimes do: I got into bed, opened my laptop, and started looking for videos. I went through three or four sites without anything catching my eye. Everything seemed the same, mechanical, too bright, too fake. I was about to close everything and take a nap when, almost by accident, I came across a different video.

A girl tied up. Her wrists bound above her head, her body arched, her small tits pointing at the ceiling with her nipples hard and pink, and someone out of frame bringing a vibrator close to her legs spread wide open. You could see everything: her shaved cunt shining with slick, her swollen inner lips peeking out, her clit throbbing every time the tip of the toy brushed it. It wasn’t the bondage that hooked me, not even the vibrator. It was her expression: that mix of surrender and desperation, as if her pleasure didn’t entirely belong to her. Every time he pressed the device full against her clit, she jerked against the ropes and let out a guttural moan, animal-like. I kept watching longer than I’d meant to, mouth open and panties already soaked.

I started touching myself almost without realizing it.

I pulled my pajama bottoms down to my knees and yanked my panties off in one tug. I slid my right hand between my legs and found myself dripping, my lips hot and swollen, slippery from so much moisture. At first it was gentle, slow massages over my clit, drawing lazy circles while the girl on the screen writhed. I ran two fingers along my slit from top to bottom, soaking them, then went back up to grind my clit with my wet fingertip. Then faster. Then slow again, playing with the rhythm, stretching out that delicious tension that builds just before everything spills over. I pushed my middle finger inside and felt my cunt clench around it, sucking it deeper. I added another. I started fucking myself slowly, feeling my knuckles bump against my lips while my thumb kept circling my clit. I kept going like that for several minutes, breathing more and more unevenly, feeling a thread of slick run from my ass down onto the sheets.

And then it hit me.

I don’t know where the idea came from. Maybe from some erotic comic I’d read long ago, or from an image tucked away in some fold of memory without me knowing it was there. The thing is, while one hand kept working between my legs, I brought the other to my own throat and squeezed.

Not hard. Just enough to feel my pulse beating against my fingers, to notice how the air became a little harder to swallow.

God.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch I didn’t even know existed. The lack of air sent all my blood to one single point, and suddenly every caress felt ten times more intense. My clit throbbed as if it had a heart of its own, swollen and hard against my finger. I squeezed my throat a little more, held my breath, and drove two fingers all the way into my cunt while my thumb moved faster in tight circles. The orgasm hit me in a way I had never felt before: long, heavy, almost violent. I felt my cunt closing in spasms around my fingers, my thighs shaking, a hot spurt escaping me and wetting my palm and the sheets. I screamed against my own hand, throat tight, and I was left sprawled on the mattress with my fingers still buried inside, panting, heart racing, hair stuck to my forehead and a stupid smile on my face.

I stayed like that for a good while, catching my breath, taking in what had just happened. I brought my soaked fingers to my mouth and slowly sucked them, tasting myself, and I was surprised by how good it made me feel. Is this weird? I thought. Am I messed up for enjoying something like this? But the truth is I didn’t care about the answer. I liked it. I liked it a lot. And that was all I needed to know for now.

What’s curious is that it wasn’t just the physical pleasure. It was the sensation of surrendering, even if only to my own hand. Of letting go of control for a second, of trusting that something would hold me up even if I ran out of air. It had never occurred to me that that could turn me on so much, and yet there I was, my cunt still throbbing, my nipples hard as stones, my mind spinning with all the possibilities.

That night I hardly slept. Not from nerves, but because I couldn’t stop imagining variations. What if it were someone else holding my throat while they fucked me? What if that same sensation of suffocation came in the middle of something else, with a hard cock buried to the hilt, when I’m already surrendered and on the edge? Each idea left me more awake than the last, and by the time dawn came I’d come twice more in silence, covering my mouth with the pillow.

***

I promised myself I’d explore it calmly, without rushing. I have a dildo tucked away in the bedside table drawer and a pair of ben wa balls I hardly ever use. Next time I’m going to combine it all and see how far this new sensation goes. Maybe then I’ll write again and tell you how it went. But for now, let me tell you something else. A fantasy. What goes through my head when I close my eyes and put my hand between my legs.

Imagine I’m there, next to you, in the dim light of a room that belongs to neither of us. You see me stand up and start taking off my clothes slowly, unhurried, enjoying the way you watch me. Under the dress I’m wearing a green set: lace panties and a matching babydoll that’s just barely see-through in the light coming through the window. My dark nipples show through the fabric, and if you look closely, it’s obvious in your pants that you’re already getting hard from watching me.

I come closer to you. I stop right in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat of my body, and I bring my hand down to your crotch. I stroke you over the fabric, slowly, feeling you grow under my fingers, feeling your cock lengthen down your leg, thick, hot, alive. I move my hand up and down without haste, setting a rhythm I know will drive you crazy. I lean in and bite your ear, and with my other hand I guide your fingers beneath the babydoll, straight to my naked cunt. It’s soaked. I let you feel how I’m dripping for you, how your fingers slide between my swollen lips.

—See how you get me going? —I whisper to you—. And you haven’t even touched me yet.

I stop at the button on your pants and undo it. Then I pull the zipper down, tooth by tooth, stretching out each second. I find the last layer of fabric and move that aside too. And there you are, finally, exactly what I was looking for. A thick cock, hard, the visible vein throbbing along its length, the tip swollen and already glossy with a drop of pre-cum. Something so beautiful that just looking at it makes my mouth water.

I wrap my right hand around you and start stroking you from top to bottom, slowly, looking you in the eyes the whole time. I squeeze a little when I get to the base, loosen up as I move toward the tip, and with my thumb I spread that clear drop all over the head. You start to moan softly, almost without meaning to, and that gives me the courage I was missing. I bend down. I kneel between your open legs, spread your thighs wide, and leave soft kisses on the tip, just the barest brush of lips.

—I love it —I murmur against your skin, and I stick out my tongue to lick the drop that’s just formed.

I lick you slowly, with the tip of my tongue, playing like a cat with something it likes. I run over your whole cock from base to tip, with my tongue flat, then go back down the other side. I suck your balls one by one, taking them all the way into my mouth, while my hand never lets go of your cock and I keep pumping you slowly. Your moans get lower, deeper, and that turns me on in a way I can’t even explain. My cunt clenches just from hearing you. I open my mouth and finally take you all the way in, sliding down slowly, feeling your head bump the roof of my mouth and then the back of my throat.

I stay like that for a long time, devouring you, losing myself in the rhythm. I move my head up and down, sucking hard, letting a strand of saliva run from my chin down to my tits. I pull you out of my mouth and spit on you, use it to jack you off with my hand while I look you in the eyes with my tongue out, and then I take you back to the back of my throat. But you start to get impatient. I can feel it in the way your thighs tense, in the way your breathing speeds up, in the way you start lifting your hips to fuck my mouth from below. And then you do it: you grab my hair with a firm hand and push, burying yourself in one motion to the hilt.

My throat closes around your cock. For a moment I can’t breathe, I feel it blocking my airway and tears springing to my eyes, and to my surprise, that is exactly what drives me wild. The same feeling from that afternoon, the lack of air, the pulse pounding, all of it concentrated into one single point of pure pleasure. I lower my free hand and slip it between my legs, rub my clit at full speed while you hold me there, choking on your cock until I’m seeing black spots.

—You like that, don’t you? —you say in a rough voice, laughing softly, while you let me pull back for a second to get some air—. Of course you can’t answer me.

I try to say something, make some kind of gesture, but you tug a little harder on my hair and shove your cock back into my throat, shutting me up.

—What did I tell you? You don’t talk with your mouth full.

And then you start moving. You fuck my mouth for real, holding me with both hands now, one on each side of my head, not letting me escape. Fast, then slow, setting your own rhythm while I let you do it, my hands braced on your thighs and my jaw wide open for you. I struggle to keep up, tears spill out and my mascara runs down my cheeks, saliva drips from my chin onto my tits, but inside I’m burning. Every gag, every time the tip hits the back of my throat, is a lash straight to my cunt. I’ve never felt so wanted and so given over at the same time. I keep my mouth open, letting you take whatever you want from me, lost in the feeling of having no control, of being nothing but a hole for you.

—Just like that, exactly like that —you pant—. You suck my cock like a whore. Almost there. Do you want it? Do you want me to come in your mouth?

I nod as best I can, eyes wet, gaze locked on yours, with your cock buried to the hilt and my tongue working your balls from below.

—Of course you want it. You’re a slut. Open your mouth wide.

You speed up. Your fingers clamp harder in my hair and I feel your whole body tighten, your balls contracting against my chin. And then you finish, buried to the hilt, and I feel the first jet hit the back of my throat directly, hot and thick. You pull out a little so the second one lands on my tongue, so I can taste it, and then you shove yourself back in while the rest keeps emptying into me. I swallow it all, not missing a drop, gulping in waves while you hold me there a second longer than necessary just to feel me swallow, to feel how my throat milks you for every last drop. With my free hand I keep rubbing my clit and I come with you, trembling on my knees, thighs soaked and my cunt clenching around my own fingers.

You withdraw slowly, dragging the head of your cock along my lips. You give my cheek and my mouth a couple of soft taps with your cock, one last bit of mischief, smearing me with the last traces of semen and saliva, and you look at me with a satisfied smile. I stick out my tongue, show you there’s nothing left in my mouth, and then I suck my lower lip.

—You loved it, didn’t you?

And the truth is yes. I loved it. In the fantasy and, I suspect, in reality too if it ever happened. Because it turns out I like surrendering, I like losing my breath a little, I like someone grabbing my hair and using my mouth however they please, I like someone taking control while I let myself go, let myself be fucked, let myself be filled. I’ve just discovered it and I’m still learning what to do with this part of me.

***

That’s all for now. I know I’m not the best writer in the world and that I’m probably making mistakes everywhere, but I wanted to share it anyway. Sometimes things feel more real when you put them into words and leave them for a stranger who might read them at night, in the dark, with a cock in hand or fingers between their legs, with the same restlessness I had that Thursday afternoon.

If this stirred something in you, I’d love to know. Tell me what you liked, what you thought, what fetish of yours you still don’t dare confess. Maybe we’re not so different. Maybe you’re also just beginning to map that territory of yours that no one else knows.

Thank you for reading me. And I promise I’ll come back with the next part, when I’m brave enough to try everything I’ve got stored in that drawer: the dildo deep inside my cunt, the ben wa balls in my ass, and my own hand squeezing my throat until I see stars.