Today I’m sharing a fantasy that I’ve been exploring for a while. In an effort to get the story on paper, though, I played around with the narrative style a bit, so I hope it still captures a little of the sexiness I feel about my body being a fuck manual…
You see her across the room. You’re not sure what captures your attention at first, but something about her intrigues you. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s wearing more clothes than many of the other women in the room, which makes you think about undressing her slowly. Or maybe it’s that while you think you’ve seen her earlier in the evening, talking and flirting, there is no doubt that the man standing next to her is her dominant. He’s a few inches shorter than her, but the hand on the back of her neck is a powerful gesture of ownership.
As you watch, she shifts a little: her skirt riding up slightly. She moves to smooth it down, but before she can you catch a glimpse of something on her thighs. It looked like a word scribbled in marker pen… He chuckles as she tries to pull her skirt down, and in fact tells her to turn around and lift her skirt to show the people they’re talking to her arse. There are smirks and teasing words, and you continue looking – wondering what they were shown – after they’ve walked away
He sees you staring, but before you can shake your head in an apology he is grinning and whispering in her ear. He points you out to her, and she blushes when she sees that you’re looking. She looks adorable. You see her protest a little as he gives her another order, but a sharp look has her turning around so her back is to you. He checks you’re still watching, and then gathers up her hair and pulls it up away from her neck. This time you’re more certain of what you see: words written on her skin.
You imagine what happened earlier, him stripping her and telling her to stay still while he wrote on her. If it was you, you’d have gone slowly. Teasing her, drawing out the process, making her tell you what she thought should be added to the fuck manual. Bite me on her neck, come here with an arrow pointing to the little dimple above her arse, fill me referring to her arse itself, fuck me on her cunt, spank me on her butt cheeks, pinch me on her thighs, squeeze me on her tits…
At least, you guess – you hope – that’s what those words are.
They’re talking now, and he looks gleeful as he whispers to her. She looks embarrassed: she’s almost squirming in his arms as he murmurs in her ear and she looks at me. You wonder what he’s saying, and part of you hopes that he’s pretending that he’s going to send her over to you and make her show you the words on her body. The filthy things that she wants done to her.
She keeps looking at you, still blushing, as he tells her to lift up her skirt. He’s clearly prepared for this, and pen already in hand he adds something else to her inner thigh. He gives her a slap on the ass, setting her off across the room in your direction. You sit up a little straighter, and you’re unable to hold back your smile. A string of delightful thoughts run through your mind as she approaches you.
“I come with instructions, sir,” she tells you. “There is a fuck manual written on my skin so you know how to use me.”
Later, you find out what the words are on the inside of her thighs: the ones he wrote just for you. They say mark me. You take great pleasure in doing so.
Image sourced through Pixabay.
Quinn Rhodes (he/him) is a queer, trans, disabled sex writer with vaginismus. He’s a slut and a sex nerd who writes about his adventures in trying to fuck without fucking up. Quinn can usually be found wearing stomp-on-the-patriarchy boots while falling in love every time he fucks.