I’ve been seeing a girl for a year now—she’s uglier than a nuclear war. She’s fully aware of how she looks and doesn’t try to act like a princess. But the sex? Every time feels like the last! It all started as «sex out of pity»—I was drunk after a company party and decided to «make a plain girl happy» (she actually has a pretty decent figure overall), and before I knew it, I was hooked! She gets incredibly turned on when, right in the middle of things—at her own request—I tell her which of our beautiful mutual acquaintances I’m imagining in her place. I don’t know what kind of masochism that is, but her moans drive me absolutely wild, so I’m in no rush to break things off with her...

A friend of mine did an internship at a psychiatric hospital; she basically worked there for a month. She told me a lot about the patients—she says most of them are just like little children and, generally speaking, harmless. But there were some truly vicious ones, too; they were kept in separate, solitary confinement units. She told me about one guy in particular: he was basically a vegetable, kept constantly sedated on heavy medication. The man was a cannibal; he had eaten both his mother-in-law and his wife. When he was declared legally insane and committed for treatment, they initially placed him in a general ward. During the night, he bit a chunk out of his roommate’s thigh and ate it raw—right up until the orderlies rushed in, subdued him, and tied him down.

I met a guy online—strictly for sex. He proposed a game: meeting up with a stranger in total darkness. I decided to take the risk and went for it. It turned out to be the best sex of my life. In the dark, nothing matters but pure sensation—there’s no analyzing personalities or getting hung up on superficial details. We made love with a total stranger—we didn't just *have sex*. We’ve been seeing each other for three months now, talking for hours on end, but we’re terrified of shattering our little world by stepping out into the light. I haven’t felt this good in ages, and I can tell that this isn’t just about sex anymore—it’s something much, much more...

And that’s just how you go through life: you go to work, you go shopping, you take your quiet walks—just living your ordinary life. And you have no idea that someone you know—a colleague, a neighbor, or maybe even a complete stranger—has wanted to rape you. Someone fantasizes about you, sitting there and suppressing their animal instincts—watching you, spying on you. Maybe I’m completely messed up, but that turns me the hell on.

I’ve been seeing a 43-year-old woman strictly for sex for a little while now. She’s divorced, beautiful, and curvy—so why not? I’ve never witnessed such love for my cock before. It’s not even love, really—it’s an obsession. I’ll show up at her place, and the first thing she does is grab for my dick. She doesn’t kiss *me*—she kisses *it*. She even goes to sleep with my cock in her hand. I get it—maybe she’s been starved for affection, or she just can’t get enough—that’s all understandable. But holy shit, I feel completely superfluous.

My daily schedule is such that I have to take my dog ​​out for her evening walk around midnight—right when the streets are full of rowdy, drunken hooligans. So, whenever we pass one of those groups, I say to my German Shepherd in a stern voice: «Easy, Rex—they're friendlies!» Everyone immediately steps aside respectfully, even though my dog’s real name is Fluffy — and she’s terrified of her own shadow.

When I was a child, my mother’s ex-husband—my biological father—used to physically abuse her. One night, I was so terrified that I climbed onto the windowsill and contemplated jumping out the window (we lived on the 9th floor). The next day, I told my brother what had happened (he hadn't been home that night), and he replied: «Well, if you *had* jumped, then they would have bought the computer just for *me*.»

I’m 20 years old now, but I still recall his words with tears in my eyes. That was the first time I truly learned the meaning of greed and cruelty.

I used to do nude modeling, and I don't regret a thing. But it really annoys me when people label it as pornography. I didn't sleep with anyone, I didn't stick anything anywhere—so why, years later, do people dig up these photos to post in sleazy online groups while clucking their tongues in judgment? Just enjoy the sight of the beautiful body I shared with you, and go to bed in silence.

I lost my wallet—it had a pretty large sum of cash in it, plus my debit card (which had just received my latest paycheck and bonus), and a credit card. I was left without a single penny; I live alone and have no one to borrow from, so I just sat there sobbing. Then, suddenly, my phone rang: some guy had found my wallet, looked up my name on the debit card to find me on social media, and got my phone number from there. I rushed out to meet him—and the guy turned out to be a total *Thug*: tracksuit, flat cap, dress shoes. He spoke exactly like one, too; if I’d run into a guy like that in a dark alley at night, I certainly wouldn't have been thrilled. But he simply handed over the wallet and said, «Hey, what the hell, man? Don't go losing this shit again.»

One time, my boyfriend had a little too much to drink at a party hosted by some mutual friends. I dragged him home, somehow managed to get his clothes off, and practically dropped him onto the bed on his back. I stripped down myself, lay down next to him, and fumed—I didn't want to sleep yet, as I’d been totally in the mood for some wild sex. Out of sheer frustration, I gave the big buzzkill a light kick—and suddenly, I saw it! A rock-hard erection! I was practically beside myself with joy! *Ahooooy!* I ended up getting my orgasm—and I didn't even wake my boyfriend up.

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