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8- BLESSING

Author: WORLDCUP
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-10-28 14:02:29

(A WEEK LATER)

The house had settled into its evening rhythm—the distant hum of my mother’s laptop from her study, the clink of ice against glass as she nursed her whiskey while buried in spreadsheets, the absolute certainty that she would not emerge for hours.

The clock in the hallway ticked with metronomic precision, each second stretching into eternity as I counted them, waiting. I had been waiting for this moment for seven days—one hundred and sixty-eight hours of meticulous preparation, o
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  • 50 SECRET CONFESSIONS (A COLLECTION)   3- DANIELA

    I sat cross-legged on the edge of my bed, the soft glow of my phone screen the only real light left in the room. The curtains were only half-drawn, letting a thin slice of late-afternoon sun cut across the walls and stretch the shadows longer with every passing minute. Dust motes floated lazily in that narrow beam, turning gold for a second before vanishing into the darker corners. None of that mattered as all I could see was the small green circle next to Barnabas’s name on WhatsApp.My thumbs hovered over the keyboard for what felt like forever. The screen had already gone dim twice and I’d had to tap it awake again. I had already typed and deleted the message three times. The first version had been soft, almost pleading—“Hey, I’ve been thinking about you… just checking in?”—something that made me feel weak the second I looked at it, like I was handing him the power to hurt me again. The second had been sharp, full of accusation: “You saw my last message and still ignored me. Wha

  • 50 SECRET CONFESSIONS (A COLLECTION)   2- DANIELA

    “What are all this for?” I exclaimed, my voice rising with genuine surprise as I stepped closer, brows furrowed. I had never seen anything like them. The room felt suddenly smaller and charged.He looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, a slow, mocking smirk spreading across his face. “Hmmm, I’ve totally forgotten that you a virgin saint,” he scorned, the words dripping with playful disdain. He gestured broadly at the assortment. “Anyway, this is a masturbators, realistic sleeves, automatic devices, love dolls and vibrating rings,” he added, pointing carefully at each one in turn so I could follow. The realistic sleeves were soft silicone that mimicked skin texture; the automatic devices hummed faintly even in their idle state; the love doll’s joints were poseable; the vibrating rings glinted under the light.“I know you haven’t heard of it before,” he continued, leaning back on his hands, eyes tracing my body with open interest. “Or will you like me to show you how it w

  • 50 SECRET CONFESSIONS (A COLLECTION)   SCENE 12: CAN I REALLY GET WET?

    WARNING ⚠️ ⚠️⚠️🔞🔞PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 🔞 YEARS OLD OR HAVE NO CONTROL OVER YOUR SEXUAL EMOTIONS. I AM STILL ONE OF YOUR FAVOURITE “WORLD CUP” WRITERS. ENJOY YOUR STORY.1 - DANIELA“Her pussy is so fucking dry. No amount of lubricant she uses can make her really wet.”Barnabas’ voice crossed the crowded corridor like a leaf slowly pulled through the glass.He stood with his usual team: Zen, Dandy, and my supposed friend Liam, laughing loud enough that half of the corridor could hear him, the sound splashing on the lockers and tile floors until he felt like he was following me.I walked on, my eyes focussed directly on the fluorescent bulbs, but the words landed hard. My cheeks burned and my throat tightened until the swallowing felt like I was forcing the broken glass. Each step towards the cafeteria became heavier than the last, as if the floor itself had turned into wet sand and tried to pull me.He was right and knew it for months.Almost a year in which I was

  • 50 SECRET CONFESSIONS (A COLLECTION)   12- BLONDIE (FINAL SCENE)

    My eyes dropped, then lifted again to his face. The pretense of indifference was cracking. I could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of his skin and the evening air still clinging to his clothes. My own body answered without permission—nipples tightening under the thin cotton of my sleep shirt, a slow, spreading warmth low in my belly.Kelvin didn’t give me time to step back or find another sharp remark. One hand slid up my side, gathering the hem of the shirt, pushing it higher until the soft underside of my breast was bare. His palm cupped me there, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak until it hardened further under his touch. He leaned in again, mouth finding the curve of my neck, then lower, kissing along the line of my collarbone while his other hand guided my own down to wrap around the thick length of him. I felt the heat of his cock against my fingers, the way it pulsed once, twice, as I tentatively stroked.“Fuck, Blondie,” he murmured against my skin, the words vibra

  • 50 SECRET CONFESSIONS (A COLLECTION)   11- BLONDIE

    **WEEKS LATER**The soft knock at the door cut through the quiet of my apartment like a sudden heartbeat.Three firm raps — KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. — echoed down the short hallway, each one landing somewhere behind my ribs. I had been half-curled on the couch with a glass of wine gone warm in my hand, the low murmur of some late-night show filling the silence I'd grown too used to. But that sound snapped me upright, spilling a dark crescent of wine across the coffee table I didn't bother to wipe."Who's that? I'm coming," I called, already on my feet, bare soles padding across the cool floorboards.The apartment was dim — just the glow of the television and the small lamp by the door. I didn't bother with a robe. The oversized sleep shirt I wore hung to mid-thigh, soft cotton clinging lightly to my curves, and for half a second I considered changing, considered the small vanity of it, and then dismissed it. Whoever was knocking at this hour didn't deserve my pride.I reached the door and

  • 50 SECRET CONFESSIONS (A COLLECTION)   10- BLONDIE

    The morning air in my office was sterile, climate-controlled to exactly twenty-two degrees—the temperature of power, of control, of environments where emotions were meant to be suppressed in favor of productivity. I had arrived at 5:00 AM as planned, before the cleaning crew had finished their rounds, before the security guards had completed their shift change, before the sun had fully crested the horizon to illuminate the city I owned in all but name.I sat behind my mahogany desk, my fingers steepled beneath my chin, watching the bank of monitors that fed live footage from every corner of Daine Company. The screens flickered with the grayscale ghosts of empty corridors, vacant workstations, the darkened break room where the coffee machines sat dormant, but I wasn't looking at those. I was watching the entrance."Good morning manager," Juliana greeted as soon as she entered my office.Her voice cut through the silence like a blade through silk. I didn't startle—I had heard her foots

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