It’s always around the new moon when my breasts feel heavy, and ache desperately for attention.
I want to be told to lift them out of my bra, and then for the conversation to continue as normal. Perhaps for my nipples to be played with as I’m asked everyday questions… struggling to find words as the delicious intensity takes over my brain. The slight humiliation, the sense of being looked at, the anticipation growing as my nipples grow harder, my breasts longing to be spanked, desperate for stinging sensation.
I want to them to be looked at, inspected, felt, and held, pressed, squeezed, slapped and pinched.
I want to be led upstairs by nipples clamps, a taught chain leading me on, the sense of submission falling over me like heavy mist. I want to be on all fours and have my hanging breasts spanked with a ruler. I want the shock of ice and the soft warmth of a mouth.
I want to be fucked so hard from behind so that my breasts swing heavily back and forth.