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Confession No. 76:The Locked Dressing Room
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2025-08-31 01:15:30
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Wet Confessions Confession No. 76:The Locked Dressing Room
The Mirror TrapThe boutique was quiet, the soft hum of a playlist floating through the air. She slipped into the dressing room, clutching a bundle of silk and lace. The lock clicked, or so she thought.She stripped slowly, sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders, letting it pool around her ankles. The lingerie clung to her curves, sheer enough to make her blush. She turned toward the mirror, studying herself, biting her lip at the reflection.That’s when she felt it the faintest shift of air behind her.Her stomach dropped.The door hadn’t locked.And someone was standing there.Her eyes met his in the mirror. Familiar. Too familiar. Heat and shame tangled in her chest.“I” she stammered, reaching for her dress, but his hand closed the door with a soft click, sealing them in together.“Don’t,” he murmured, voice low, rough. “Don’t cover up. Not yet.”Her breath caught. She should scream, push him out, make this stop, but her body betrayed her, tingling under his gaze, her
Wet Confessions Confession No. 75: Family’s Best Kept Secret
Dinner Table TemptationThe dining room buzzed with clinking glasses, laughter, and the chaos of too many relatives stuffed into one space. Daniel sat wedged between an uncle who wouldn’t stop bragging and his father who’d had one too many whiskeys.Across the table, Eva, his step-sister in-law, watched him with eyes that lingered too long, too knowingly. She laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, sipped her wine too slowly, her tongue wetting her lips as though only he could see.And he did. Every damn time.When the dessert arrived, something shifted. He felt it before he saw it the subtle graze of her bare foot against his calf under the table. His body stiffened, breath catching.He tried to ignore it, shoving a forkful of pie into his mouth. But her toes traced higher, teasing along his shin, then pausing at his knee. He choked on the sweetness in his throat.“Everything okay?” his uncle asked.Daniel coughed, forcing a smile. “Yeah just, uh, went down the wrong way.”Eva smirked,
Wet Confessions Confession No. 74: The Step Before Marriage
The night before Daniel’s wedding was supposed to be holy. Calm. Filled with prayers, blessings, and the quiet certainty of a man about to bind himself to the woman he’d chosen.But it wasn’t holy.It wasn’t calm.It was restless.The house was alive with activity bridesmaids laughing in the guest rooms, his fiancée’s parents fussing over last minute details, the kitchen clattering with late night preparations. Champagne bottles popped, footsteps echoed on the stairs, and voices drifted through the walls. Everyone else was celebrating.Everyone except him.Daniel tugged at his collar and slipped out to the balcony. His shirt was half buttoned, his tie undone, his head a storm. The city hummed beneath him car horns, sirens, laughter from distant streets but his thoughts were louder.Tomorrow he would marry Lila. Sweet, safe, dependable Lila. She was everything his family wanted for him, elegant, respectable, steady. She adored him. He cared for her. Deeply, even. But “caring” was not t
Wet Confessions Confession No.73 : The Babysitter’s Nap
I should never say this to anyone. If anyone ever found these pages, I’d burn with shame, but my body won’t let me forget, and if I don’t put it somewhere, I’ll explode.It started so innocently. I was babysitting, the kids finally asleep, the TV murmuring in the background. His house was too warm, the couch was too soft, and I made the mistake of letting myself drift off.When I woke, I wasn’t alone.At first, I thought I was dreaming the faint touch along my leg, the careful weight of fingers that didn’t belong to me. I froze, eyes still shut, breath shallow. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.It was him. The father. The man who trusted me in his home. His wife’s husband. My boss.His hand moved up, slow, testing, like he was waiting for me to flinch, to push him away. I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t. I lay there, still as stone, every nerve in my body burning, shame, and heat tangling until I couldn’t tell them apart.His fingers slid under the hem of my shorts.
Wet Confessions Confession No.72: The Train Ride
I told myself it was just another late ride home. The car was dim, half empty, rocking gently with the tracks. I thought I was alone enough to close my eyes and drift.But then I felt it his shoulder brushing mine, closer than it needed to be. At first, I shifted. He didn’t.When the lights flickered through a tunnel, I caught his eyes on me. Not apologetic. Not nervous. Just daring.And then his hand slid against my thigh. Slow. Testing. Too high to be an accident.My breath caught, but I didn’t push him away. God, I didn’t. I froze, every nerve in my body awake, trembling but not moving. Not saying no.His fingers pressed firmer, edging higher, until the hem of my skirt betrayed me. I should’ve grabbed his wrist, stood up, screamed, something. Instead, my knees softened open, just enough.That was all he needed.He slipped his hand beneath the thin fabric, his fingertips grazing the damp heat of my panties. My chest tightened. People were only feet away, slouched in their seats, scr
Wet Confessions Confession No. 71 Patient’s Secret
I should’ve known better than to notice. He’s my doctor. His touch is supposed to be professional, clinical, detached. And yet every time his hands are on me, my body betrays me.It started with something simple. A routine exam, the kind I’d had a hundred times before. But when his fingers brushed my skin firm, careful, lingering just a heartbeat too long I felt heat pool low in my stomach. I told myself I imagined it. That it was nothing.But then it kept happening. His hand guiding me just a little lower, his palm resting on my thigh longer than it needed to. The way his breath would hitch so subtle, but enough to make me wonder if he felt it too.And God help me I didn’t move away.I sat there on that paper covered table, pretending I was unaffected, while inside I was burning. My pulse racing, my thighs pressing together under the flimsy gown. Every touch of his stethoscope against my chest made me shiver. Every time his fingers steadied me, my breath came shorter.And then came t
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