Ambiguous Ending 소설 & 이야기

I had loved Damian Moretti from a distance for two years. He was my boss, the untouchable heir to one of New York's most dangerous families, and the kind of man no woman should want unless she was ready to be ruined. Then he handed me a lipstick. At first, I thought it was just a gift. Until I touched it, and Damian Moretti, the coldest man in the room, almost came apart in front of everyone. That was when I learned his secret. The lipstick was bound to him. Every touch, every twist, every swipe of color, he felt it. He had not given me a present. He had handed me power over him. And when the office started whispering, when another woman tried to claim what was mine, Damian finally showed everyone the truth. The ruthless Moretti heir only knelt for one woman. Me.

After my natural delivery, I was diagnosed with pelvic relaxation that left me with almost no muscle tone down there. My husband, whose size was completely mismatched with my condition, refused to sleep with me anymore. When my father-in-law found out, he cornered me in the bathroom with a dark, knowing look. He confessed to suffering from acromegaly and suggested we might be a perfect physical match.

My husband only lasts a minute each time. As a mature woman in my thirties, I often find myself lying awake at night, feeling like something is missing from my life. That is, until I met a rugged, muscular mechanic while getting my car repaired. Watching his strong muscles flex beneath his tank top awakened a desire I hadn’t felt in a long time. Our brief, intense encounter left me overwhelmed with emotions I couldn’t control. Just as things were about to go too far, I pushed him away, not wanting to make a mistake. But then I discovered that my husband had already been cheating on me with our pregnant neighbor. So, maybe I should just...

I had been diagnosed with a structural abnormality. The doctor had told me my condition was extremely rare, the kind that had no cure. It was not exactly dangerous. I was just… different from other men in that regard. More intense. Far beyond normal. It had been a constant problem. Every time I brought a woman home, things fell apart the moment clothes started coming off. One look at me, and they panicked and ran like they had seen something they could not handle. My good buddy Gavin Cobb knew how long I had been going without, and he finally decided to help. He told me about a cycling club and suggested I check it out. At first, I did not take it seriously. Riding bikes? What was supposed to be exciting about that? Then he said, "You're underestimating it. The club was full of women. You'd ride up into the mountains at night, and once it was dark, no one could see anything. That was your opportunity. Make them feel good, and they wouldn't push you away. After that, your life would be easy." The idea got to me immediately. I did not think twice. I agreed on the spot.

"N-No… Please, no… I can't fit in anything anymore…" I can only arch my hips up in the air on the hospital bed. My doctor is currently performing a check-up on me to find out the reason behind my intense lust. But he seems to be toying with my body. His palm keeps kneading my perky buttocks, and he even inserts a finger into my slit. The more I beg him to stop, the more excited he becomes. Unable to take it anymore, I turn back to look at him. Wait, that's not my doctor! Isn't that Eric Buckley, my college professor? The next thing I know, he thrusts into me heavily.

My best friend, Yvonne Greene, has a very masculine boyfriend named Clyde Carroll. So much so that I can see his huge bulge through his trousers. One night, when I am trying to relieve myself while fantasizing about him, Yvonne suddenly comes over with tears running down her cheeks. "Michelle, please help my fiancé out. He seems to have undergone another growth spurt down there. I can't withstand his tormenting anymore." Upon hearing that, I instantly get wet. Clyde is already huge to begin with. What kind of inhuman size has he grown into after getting even bigger? I purposely dress myself in a very low-cut top and a micro skirt with crotchless tights before showing up at Clyde's place. "I heard you're very robust. Let me take a look and see how big you are."

My boyfriend, Blake Finch, has passed out drunk on the bed. All I hear is his loud snores. But his roommate, Dylan Olson, begins to scoot closer to me. I can feel scorching heat rolling off his body. "Giselle, what should we do now that Blake is asleep?" A mix of embarrassment and a quiet thrill shoots through my veins, making my throat go dry. "No… Ah… Don't do this… He's going to wake up…" As soon as my voice falls, I feel a hand rest on my butt. Soon, it starts groping me.

"S-Stop it! You guys are far too big for me! I can't handle you at all!" In the dark slums, a few impoverished men have me lifted in mid-air. I can feel four pairs of rough, callused hands parting my slender legs, revealing my panties. "And here you are, pretending to be pure and innocent! Look at how wet you are right now! You must be yearning for our touch, right?" After that, the men rip off my damp panties before pinning me down…

"Don't move!" Coming home late from work, I was sneaking a shower in the shared bathroom of my rental when a warm body suddenly pressed up against me. His rough palm clamped over my mouth, pinning me against the cold tile. He held me there against the damp wall, his skin burning hot against my back as he let out a low, gravelly threat. "My guys are right outside. Just try and scream." Instead of panicking, I leaned back into him, shifting slightly. I tilted my head back and breathed softly into his ear. “So… you want everyone hear? I don't mind… we can give it a try.”

My name is Haley Dixon. Ever since I was young, I knew I was different from other women. Other women have only one passage, but I have two—and both are extremely narrow. I'd heard that my mother was originally pregnant with twins, but a genetic mutation during the pregnancy caused my twin sister to die in the womb. I absorbed the part of her body that became my second passage, along with all of her estrogen. That was why I had a stronger desire than other women. As a teenager, I could use my little toys for up to four hours and still want more. For a while, I was almost proud of myself. I thought a rare treasure like me would be cherished and fiercely loved by any boyfriend. But after five consecutive boyfriends—every single one of them—bolted at the final moment, terrified by what they saw in my pants, calling me a monster and worrying I'd suck them in, I finally realized: maybe this wasn't being "different." Maybe this was a disease. But going to the hospital didn't help. Instead, they told me that my long-term use of foreign objects had led to an addiction disorder. I cried. Why did a monstrous woman like me have to suffer from this? Still, I didn't have time to wallow in misery, because the addiction tormented me day and night, stealing my peace and my sleep. So I went online and bought the largest set of toys I could find. Within just half a month, I'd broken them all—and my mild addiction had become severe. The toys were useless. It seemed I needed a man. But I no longer dreamed of finding a boyfriend. As long as someone could give me relief, any man would do. I signed up for a hookup app and chose the username: Double-Hole Slut.