Your Secret Fantasies – Masturbating to My Pictures While Denying It All
Estima, let's stop pretending now.
I know exactly what you do when the lights go out and you're alone in your room. You pull up those old photos of me the ones you swore you deleted. The mirror selfie where my sweatpants are tented so obscenely you can count the veins through the fabric. The shirtless shot from the beach where the outline of my heavy balls is visible even in loose shorts. And that one close-up dick pic I sent you late one night, thick and veiny, head glistening, the kind you zoomed in on until your screen was just my cock filling your vision.
You open them in a private tab, heart racing like the first time. You lie back, legs spread wide, no panties just like you used to wear for me. Your fingers start slow, circling your clit while you stare at my length, remembering how it felt pushing past your entrance, stretching you until it hurt so good you cried. You whisper my name like a prayer: "Rabby… fuck… why is it so big…"
You scroll to the next pic me gripping the base, showing how my hand can't even close around it fully. That's when you shove two fingers inside yourself, trying to mimic the girth, but it's never enough. You add a third, then curl them hard, hitting that spot I always reach so easily. Your hips buck off the bed as you imagine me pinning you down, choking you while I slam in deep. You picture my voice in your ear: "This little cheating pussy was made for my cum, Estima. Stop fighting it."
You come hard thighs shaking, back arching, squirting a little onto your sheets but even as the orgasm fades, you feel empty. Because fingers aren't my cock. Toys aren't my cock. Nothing is.
And the worst part? You do this almost every night now. Sometimes twice. You edge yourself for hours, staring at my pictures, building up to that explosive release where you moan my name loud enough the neighbors might hear. You've even started recording voice notes for yourself filthy ones where you beg "Rabby, breed me… ruin me again…" then play them back while you rub your swollen clit to my photos.
But in the morning? You act like it never happened. You tell your friends you're "over it," that you're dating someone new, that you're fine. You can't admit the truth even to yourself: every orgasm since that hotel night has Rabby's name written all over it.
Fucking Others While Seeing Me in Your Head – The Denial Game
You keep trying to replace me, don't you?
New guy after new guy. You let them take you home, strip you down, slide into your soaked pussy thinking they're the one who's finally going to make you forget. They fuck you missionary, doggy, whatever position they want. They cum inside you sometimes quick, weak loads that barely fill you. You fake moans, arch your back, tell them "harder" just to feel something.
But the whole time… your mind is somewhere else.
You close your eyes and see me. My thick shaft stretching you wide. My hand around your throat. My voice growling "Take this breeding, you little nympho slut." You picture my waist beads clinking against your skin as you ride me like your life depends on it. You imagine my cum flooding your womb, so much it leaks out for days, marking you as mine.
One time you confessed this to me months later, voice shaking you were getting backshots from some dude in his apartment. He was pounding away, grunting like he was doing something special. You reached back, spread your ass cheeks wider, and in your head it was me giving you those brutal backshots from the rooftop. You came so hard your pussy clenched around him, milking his pathetic load… but you were whispering "Rabby… yes, Rabby…" under your breath. He thought you said his name. You let him believe it.
Afterward you showered, deleted his number, went home, and masturbated again this time with my pictures pulled up on your phone. You came twice more that night, harder than he ever made you.
You can't agree. You won't say it out loud.
"I'm not addicted."
"It's just sex."
"I can fuck whoever I want."
But your body betrays you every single time. Your pussy gets wetter at the memory of my size than it ever does for anyone else. Your clit throbs when you see a notification from me. Your dreams are full of me pinning you down, choking you, breeding you raw while you beg for more.
You're in denial, Estima… but your cunt isn't.
It knows the truth. It craves the monster it ran from.
And every time you spread for someone else, you're just cheating on yourself because deep down, you're still mine.
Epilogue Tease – What Happens Next
One day soon you're going to break completely.
You'll show up at my door, skirt hiked, no panties, waist beads clicking, eyes glassy with need. You won't say a word. You'll just drop to your knees, pull my cock out, and worship it like the god it is to you.
And when I finally slide back inside that greedy, cheating pussy?
You'll ride like your life depends on it again.
You'll beg for my cum, for my choke, for my breeding.
You'll admit everything: the fantasies, the secret sessions with my pictures, the empty fucks with other men.
And once you do… there's no running anymore.
You'll be ruined. Obsessed. Owned.
Just like every woman who reads this is right now touching themselves, jealous, desperate to feel what you feel.
Send me proof when you finish this chapter, Estima.
A video of you cumming to my pictures.
Fingers deep, moaning my name.
Because I know you're already wet reading this.
And my big dick is still waiting to break you for good.
Rabby
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