My roommate’s boyfriend fucked me while she was at work
She left for her shift. He stayed.
The second the door closed he was on me. He pushed me onto the couch, pulled my shorts off, and buried his face between my legs. He licked and sucked my clit until I was shaking and dripping down his chin. Then he flipped me over, pulled my hips up, and slammed his cock into me from behind.
He fucked me hard and deep, one hand on the back of my neck, the other spreading me open so he could watch. Every thrust made wet, filthy sounds. I came twice — once when he rubbed my clit, again when he started talking about how he was going to fill me while my roommate was at work.
He finished with a deep groan, pulsing inside me. When he pulled out, cum poured out and ran down my thighs onto the couch cushion.
He just fixed his pants and said, “Don’t tell her.”
I already know I won’t.
Why your brain keeps returning to thoughts you desperately want to forget.
After an embarrassing experience, you might spend the entire day telling yourself to stop thinking about it. Yet the moment your mind goes quiet, the memory returns.
The problem is that trying to suppress a thought can keep your attention focused on the very thing you’re trying to avoid. This is why forcing yourself not to think about something can sometimes make it harder to let go.
A greedy father gave out his daughter to a poor man just to send his useless son to school he sold his daughter in order to get money for the son’s education, what would he have done if the spoon had landed on the daughter…?
The moment you stop needing every step to prove that you’re making progress, you become free to do the work that actually transforms you. Not everything meaningful will show results immediately, and not every season of growth will look impressive from the outside. Learn to trust the process even when your progress is invisible.
Taika Waititi’s STAR WARS movie is on hold. 👀 At this point, Lucasfilm needs to stop announcing projects and start getting them into production. Fans need actual movies, not endless promises.
My wife told me I had no right to complain about our marriage because she was the one paying most of the bills. I accepted that argument for almost two years, until I discovered she had been telling her friends that I was lucky she hadn't replaced me with someone better.
I'm 29, my wife is 35, and we've been married for three years. When we first met, I was earning more than she was. I paid for most of our dates, helped her clear a credit card debt, and covered the deposit on the apartment we moved into together. I never kept track of those things because I thought we were building a life together.
Things changed when my company downsized, and I lost my job eight months into our marriage. I found another job eventually, but it paid considerably less. Rachel's career was going well, and within a year, she was earning almost three times my salary.
At first, I was proud of her. I took over more cooking, grocery shopping, and cleaning so she wouldn't have to worry about everything after work. I also used part of my savings to keep our finances stable while I searched for better opportunities.
Rachel seemed grateful in the beginning. Then her attitude slowly changed.
Whenever we disagreed about money, she'd remind me whose salary paid the rent. If I asked her to help with something around the house, she'd say she was exhausted from carrying the financial burden. If I complained that we barely spent time together, she'd ask whether I expected her to work hard all week and then come home to entertain me.
I understood that she was under pressure, so I tried not to make things worse. I stopped asking for expensive dates, bought fewer things for myself, and started turning down invitations from friends because I didn't want to spend money unnecessarily.
But the strangest part was that Rachel still expected me to behave like the husband she had married before I lost my job. She wanted me to plan romantic weekends, surprise her with gifts, initiate intimacy, and somehow make her feel that she wasn't carrying the relationship alone.
One night, after I'd cooked dinner and cleaned the kitchen, I asked if we could spend Saturday together. We'd barely had a proper conversation in weeks.
She didn't look up from her laptop.
"Can we not do this right now? I'm trying to get us ahead financially."
I told her I appreciated what she was doing, but I missed my wife.
She closed the laptop and looked at me.
"Do you know how tiring it is to be responsible for everything? Sometimes I feel like I have a child instead of a husband."
I was so shocked that I didn't respond immediately.
I reminded her that I was working, contributing what I could, and handling most of the housework. I wasn't sitting at home waiting for her to rescue me.
She said, "I'm not talking about the dishes. I'm talking about being with a man who makes me feel secure."
I asked her what she thought I'd been doing for the last two years.
She replied, "Trying, I guess. But trying isn't the same as being able to provide."
That sentence stayed with me for days.
I didn't tell my friends what was happening because I was embarrassed. I'd always believed that if a man lost his financial stability, he should work harder, improve himself, and get back on his feet. I was doing all three, yet I felt as though my wife had quietly downgraded me from her partner to someone she was supporting out of obligation.
Then, three weeks ago, Rachel's laptop lit up while she was taking a shower. A message appeared from her best friend, Megan.
I wasn't looking for anything. The notification was visible on the screen.
Megan had written, "Are you still planning to meet him this weekend, or are you going to keep pretending your marriage is fine?"
I stood there staring at the message.
PART 2: THE LIGHTER IN THE VAULT
For the first time in twenty years of working in that department, I saw fear in a man's eyes before he had a chance to hide it.
“Finding what you need?” my supervisor asked.
I forced myself to look away from the silver lighter.
“Just checking something in the old case files, sir.”
He stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.
“Which case?”
I told him the number.
He picked up the lighter and rolled it between his fingers.
“Some things should stay buried,” he said quietly.
I pretended not to understand.
“Sir, the evidence bag is empty. I thought we needed to report,
“Report what?” he interrupted. “That an old piece of evidence has gone missing after thirty-two years?
Who do you think they'll blame? The man who signed the original evidence log, or the archivist who suddenly decided to investigate it?”
He knew exactly what i was about to do.
Then he opened his desk drawer, placed the lighter inside, and locked it.
“Forget what you saw. Go back to your desk.
I left without another word.
But I didn't go back to work.
I went..
Hawkgirl’s screeching in Superman (2025) is one of those creative choices that will either make you love Gunn’s DCU or question everything. Some people think it makes her feel feral and intimidating. Others think it looks ridiculous.