okay so friends, i could not find anyone from the dating apps for today so i thought why not gather up some courage and ask my crush out today? what’s the worst that’s gonna happen anyway? 🤷

he is my classmate, we go to the same college together. he is an aussie, tall, and has brown hair and very pretty eyes. let’s call him c. i always see him with his girlfriend around the campus and it pisses me off though she is not a media and communication student so it is fair that i don’t have to tolerate her in classes too. i heard they’ve been dating for 3 years but i always hoped that it is not a serious relationship. but today i took the chance at the canteen when i saw him sitting alone eating a sandwich and watching something on his phone.

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ordered massaman beef myself and asked him if i could sit next to him. he said he didn’t mind. at first, i was a little nervous so i started checking my phone while eating and practicing my speech mentally but then i saw him almost finishing his food and i panicked and blurted out

“hey will you go out with me tonight?”

just like that. my heart was beating fast and i felt like passing out. he looked up from his screen and stared at me, puzzled.

“you’re talking to me?” he asked, still puzzled.

“yeah…you.”

“you know i have a girlfriend, right?”

“i do..i just..” i took a deep breath to calm my nerves and said, “i feel really lonely here sometimes even though i have friends..but i desperately try to find someone from dating apps but i couldn’t find anyone today. and i don’t know why but i am feeling really lonely today so i thought that maybe if you wanted to study together or something i’d feel better but please don’t take this the wrong way.. you don’t have to if you don’t want to..”

“it’s okay..i understand. you’re from malaysia right?” he asked and i said yes and then he considered a moment and said okay he would study with me but just this one time. so we planned to meet at my dorm around 7 pm and i started getting ready for him lol. i wish it was summer cuz summer times make dressing easier and sexier. even if i wore a very short skirt or something i would feel very cold so i didn’t and wore a sweater and wool pjs instead, helps me keep warm and hornier.

he asked for my room number and came just as promised but around the whole time when he was here i couldn’t focus on any word he was saying, i was just constantly thinking about making out with him and putting his dick in my mouth like a slut and the thoughts made me so horny and wet that i couldn’t take it anymore i started touching myself with him sitting beside me.

my roommate was out so we were using her bed to study and i started touching my soaking wet pussy by putting my hand inside my pants. his eyes grew big and he said, “what are you doing?”

“i’m sorry..it’s just you make me so so horny baby” i breathed hard and started rubbing myself. i was so horny and so wet i was afraid i would come in like 3 seconds but thankfully that didn’t happen lol. i started removing all my clothes because i felt so hot it was difficult keeping them on.

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he started to protest but couldn’t say anything as i showed him my boobs with two hard nipples and his eyes went wild lol i love that look on him.

then he just said “fuck” and started sucking my boobs. his mouth was warm and wet on my nipple and i literally gasped so loud i was scared someone from the next room would hear. he sucked hard pulling my nipple between his lips and flicking it with his tongue and my whole body started jerking. i grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer to my chest like a greedy little slut.

“this will not happen again,” he mumbled against my boob but he didn’t stop. if anything he got more into it, switching to my other nipple, his tongue doing this circular thing that made my legs go weak. i could feel his breath hot against my skin and his hands were gripping my waist, fingers pressing into my sides.

i reached down and palmed him through his jeans and omg he was already so hard.. i could feel the outline of his dick straining against the denim and i rubbed my hand over it and he let out this low groan against my breast that literally made my pussy throb. the wet sounds of his mouth on my nipples were echoing in the tiny dorm room.

“you’re so fucking hard baby,” i whispered, undoing his button and pulling his zipper down. he lifted his hips to help me and i shoved his jeans and boxers down to his thighs and his cock just sprung out. it was nice. like really nice. longer than m’s for sure and thicker at the base, with a slight curve upwards and a pink head that was already glistening with precum. i made that. he has been fucking one girl for three years and seeing me naked and horny totally got into him haha. i wrapped my fingers around his cock and started stroking slowly and his hips bucked up into my hand.

“fuck, stop, stop,” he breathed, pulling his mouth off my nipple with a wet pop. his lips were swollen and shiny and his eyes were half-lidded, those pretty eyes now dark with lust. “but lisa..”

“don’t think about her right now,” i said, squeezing his cock gently and running my thumb over his tip, spreading the precum around. “just think about how good this feels.”

and then i pushed him back onto my roommate’s bed and got between his legs. i looked up at him while i held his cock in my hand, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly, his abs clenching under his sweatshirt that was still on. i licked a long stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and his head fell back against the pillow with a thud.

“mmhhhh fucking hell,” he groaned, his hand finding the back of my head.

i took the tip in my mouth first, swirling my tongue around it, getting it nice and wet. he was twitching on my tongue and i loved it, loved feeling how desperate he was getting. i pushed my head down further, taking more of him in, feeling his cock hit the roof of my mouth and then slide toward my throat. i relaxed my jaw and went deeper, my lips stretched tight around his shaft, drool pooling at the corners of my mouth because he was thick enough that my mouth had to work for it.

sloppy wet gagging echoing in the room and it turned me on even more. my pussy was dripping, literally i could feel it on my inner thighs, and i reached down with one hand to touch myself while i sucked him. my fingers slid through my slick folds and over my clit and i moaned around his cock, the vibration making his hips jerk up, shoving himself deeper into my throat.

“holy shit don’t do that or i’ll…” he warned, his fingers tightening in my hair, pulling it a little and omg that little sting of pain mixed with everything else almost made me cum right there. three years with the same girl and she probably never sucks him like this.

i pulled up for air, gasping, looked up at him through my messy hair and he was just staring at me with this look of pure lust. his cheeks were flushed pink, chest heaving.

i smiled and took him back in my mouth, bobbing my head in a steady rhythm now, one hand gripping the base of his shaft, twisting in the opposite direction of my mouth. his thighs were trembling and his breathing was getting ragged and i could tell he was getting close, his cock swelling even harder against my tongue.

“i’m gonna…fuck, stop, pull off…” he gasped, tugging my hair but i didn’t. i wanted it. i sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, my tongue working the underside of his tip where it’s most sensitive, and he let out this strangled groan that was barely human and came in my mouth. thick, hot spurts hitting the back of my throat, pulse after pulse, and i swallowed as much as i could but some of it leaked out from the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chin and onto his thigh.

i pulled off slowly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and looked up at him. he was sprawled on the bed, one arm over his eyes, his softening cock still twitching against his hip.

“holy shit,” he finally said.

i grinned and crawled up next to him, my naked body pressing against his side, still outrageously horny and aching between my legs, my fingers still slippery with my own wetness. i kissed his jaw, tasted salt on his skin, and pressed my thigh over his hip. he was breathing hard but his hand came to my pussy and he finger fucked me so hard that i literally squirted all over my roommate’s bed. it was so fucking hot my pussy was so wet and slippery and my whole body was shuddering so badly i came hard and loud i swear all the students next door heard and they will stare at me tomorrow morning but why do i care. anyways he didn’t eat me out and i wanted that to happen but i don’t think this is the end to this story 😉

i told my roommate later that i accidentally spilled a water bottle on her bed and that she could sleep in mine for tonight and she bought it. and i’m writing this right now with her sleeping next to me haha

anyways i have a date tomorrow so i’m going to sleep now. but wish me hard fucks because fingering isn’t enough for me you know.

xx

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Okay so I know I keep talking about all my crazy adventures with Suraya and everything but sometimes you just need to be alone with yourself and your toys, kan? And these nights in Melbourne are so bloody cold I sometimes honestly feel like I am going to die.

You know back in KL, even at midnight it’s still 28 degrees and humid as hell. You step outside and your skin is instantly sticky and warm. Melbourne in July is completely different game. The wind was howling outside my window and my little heater was doing absolutely nothing. I had three blankets on my bed, thick socks, an oversized hoodie, and I was STILL shivering.

I tried everything. Hot shower, hot tea, the microwaveable heat pack I bought from Coles that smelled weird. My fingers were literally cold. My toes were frozen. I couldn’t feel my nose. I was lying there in bed just curling into a ball trying to conserve body heat and my brain suddenly went, “You know what makes you warm?” and I was like, “What?” and my brain went,

“Cumming.”

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So I reached over to my bedside drawer where I keep my toys. I have this pink silicone dildo, about six inches, nice girth, and it hits my G-spot well, and then my little wand vibrator that I bought online because the ones in the shops here are so expensive, sial. I peeled off my thick socks and my leggings and my hoodie, leaving just my oversized t-shirt on. The cold air hit my bare legs and my pussy and I gasped. My nipples were already hard from the cold, poking through the thin cotton of my shirt.

I started with my fingers first, just rubbing my clit slowly through my underwear, trying to get some warmth going down there. Gentle circles, just waking my body up. It felt nice but I was still cold, and still shivering. So I pulled my panties off completely and spread my legs under the blankets. I spit on my fingers and rubbed my clit directly, wetting it, and finally my body started responding. I could feel warmth blooming in my lower belly, spreading down to my thighs. My pussy was starting to get wet on its own now and I pushed the fingers inside me and fucked myself like that for a good while. Oh it was so good.

Then i grabbed the dildo first and fucked myself with it and I came lah it was so good. I rubbed the tip against my opening, coating it in my wetness, and slowly pushed it inside. My walls clenched around it. It was thick and cold but my cunt was so warm and wet that it slid in easily. I started fucking myself slowly with it, pulling it all the way out then pushing it back in deep. The curve pressed against my G-spot with every thrust. and then I turned on the vibrator and Mmmh… I put it against my clit. The vibration actually helped me squirt lol.

The vibration sent warm shockwaves through my whole body and I arched my back off the mattress. I kept it there, just letting it buzz against my clit while I got wetter and wetter. My pussy was dripping now and I moved the vibrator in slow circles around my clit, then pressed it harder.

My hips were bucking off the bed. The blankets were sliding off but I didn’t even care anymore because I was so fucking warm. My skin was flushed, sweating, despite the freezing room. The wet sounds of the dildo sliding in and out of my soaked pussy were so loud in the quiet room. “Mmmh, oh god...” I was moaning freely now, my head thrown back.

My thighs were shaking. “I’m about to come… Oh my god I’m cumming” and then I came. My whole body clenched, my holes were squeezing “Ahhhh— fuck!” I was gasping, moaning, riding the waves of it.

After I came I just lay there, breathing hard, completely warm for the first time all night. My whole body was radiating heat. My pussy was still twitching, and turned off the vibrator. I could smell myself, I pulled the blankets back up, still naked from the waist down, and curled up.

I was asleep in like two minutes. Best sleep I had since winter came.

The heater was still useless the next morning but now I think I found my new winter survival strategy lol.

Listen to this if you don’t believe me 👇🏽😉

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Okay guys so I posted this specifically for my Patreon members but I’m just gonna copy-paste it here as well so you know what I have planned for the next week…

Okay so I have something planned for next week and I’m only telling you guys first because you guys are special to me 😘

Some of you already know that I use Bumble and Tinder when I’m bored on weekends usually just to see what’s out there, maybe meet someone for drinks, see where the night goes. But I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I want to push it further. A new little experiment… I’m going to find a date every single day for a whole week. Seven days, seven men or women or both and I’m going to tell you every single detail of what happens after.

I’m planning to make these dates sexual from the jump. Not in a weird forced way, of course but like... I already know what I want when I swipe right, you know? I want inches. I want someone’s hands on me, grabbing my waist, pulling my hair, making my whole body shake. I want to feel that first kiss that tells you everything about the way his mouth pushes against mine, how his tongue slides in, that groans he makes when I press my hips into him and he realizes I’m not wearing anything under my dress.

And I want to write about all of it and share them with you.

Every time I end up on my knees with some guy’s dick in my mouth, I’m going to tell you how it felt. How hard he was. Whether he tasted good. How good he smelled. If his cock was thick enough to make my jaw ache or long enough to hit the back of my throat and make me gag. I want you to know what sounds he made when I looked up at him with his dick sliding between my lips, how his hand felt gripping the back of my head, whether he was gentle about it or if he fucked my mouth like he was desperate for it.

I’ll tell you how it felt when he put his fingers inside me.

I want to tell you about riding a stranger’s face until I come. About being bent over a bathroom sink at some bar because we couldn’t wait. About the way a man’s chest feels against your back when he’s behind you, one hand on your hip and the other gripping your shoulder, pulling you onto his cock so deep you forget your own name for a second.

These are the things I want to write about and I am also going to keep a diary for the same lol.

Raw. Honest. No filter. And of course only if they happen… I mean finger crossed there only has to be good stories… please pray for me that I don’t get any boring dates!

So next week, I’m chasing it and you get front row seats. (By you I mean my Patreon members of course. So if you haven’t subscribed yet, do so asap 🍻. I’m also open to suggestions like if there’s something specific you want to see on my Patreon, tell me. A position you want me to try. A scenario. A type of guy. I’ll see what I can do. The only thing I ask is please don’t ask me to write fiction because I’m terrible at making things up, haha. I need it to be real. I need the cock to be real, the cum to be real, the orgasms to be real. Because that’s the whole point.)

So keep your eyes on this page starting Monday. And if you have a Bumble profile in my area... well… maybe you’d end up being the person I write about who knows?😂

See you next week then😉

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look, the physical stuff is great, but if you don’t talk to me, i’m just a doll. i need the words. i need the passion. words hit different when you’re already half-crazy from a cock stretching you out. here is the list of things i want whispered, groaned, or shouted at me while i’m getting wrecked. read it and take notes. also, made this list with sleepy eyes so forgive bad grammar, typos, and stuff.

1. tell me i’m beautiful when my face is all red and messy and i’m losing my mind. i want to know that even when i’m looking like a total wreck, you still think i’m the best thing you ever saw.

2. say how sexy i look lying there with my legs spread wide and my pussy soaking the sheets. i want to hear you describe exactly what you see, like you’re worshiping the view.

3. tell me my pussy feels so tight it’s like hurting you. there is nothing better than hearing a man groan because my walls are gripping him too hard.

4. call me a dirty little slut for wanting it so bad. sometimes i just need to hear the truth about how much of a degenerate i am for your cock.

5. tell me you love the way i taste when you’re face-deep in my cunt. i want to know that my juices are like nectar to you and you can’t get enough.

6. say “good girl” when i take all of you deep in my throat without gagging. it make me want to try even harder just to hear those two words again.

7. tell me you’re going to cum deep inside me and leave me a mess. the thought of you filling me up is enough to make me peak right then and there.

8. whisper how much you want to breed me right now. even if we aren’t actually making a baby, the idea of you claiming my womb is so primal and hot.

9. tell me to look at your cock while you slide it in slow. i want to see the exact moment you disappear inside me while you talk about how good it looks.

10. say my name like it’s a prayer right before you blow your load. i want to be the only thing on your mind when you’re losing control.

11. tell me i’m the wettest girl you ever fucked. i want to feel proud of how much i’m leaking for you, like i’m a fountain.

12. ask me if i like being used like a cheap toy. yeah, i do, and hearing you say it out loud makes the shame feel like pure electricity.

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13. tell me to tell you how much i want it. make me say the words, make me beg for it until i’m crying, and tell me how much you love hearing me plead.

14. say you’re never going to let me go until i’ve come so many times i can’t stand up. i want to feel like your prisoner in the best way possible.

15. tell me my ass looks perfect while you’re pounding me from behind. i want to hear the slap of your balls against me while you talk about my curves.

16. whisper that you can feel my pussy clenching around you in waves. knowing you can feel my orgasm starting makes me want to squeeze you even harder.

17. tell me to shut up and just take it. sometimes i talk too much and i need you to remind me that my only job is to get fucked.

18. say you want to see me squirt all over your face. the mental image of me just exploding while you watch is enough to push me over the edge.

19. tell me i’m yours and nobody else is allowed to touch this pussy. i want to feel like your property, totally owned and totally ruined.

20. just groan my name when you finally hit that spot that makes my toes curl. sometimes the best thing to hear isn’t even a word, just the sound of you losing it.

21. tell me how much you missed my smell while you were away. i want to know that the scent of my arousal was stuck in your head all day.

22. say you’re going to fuck the innocence right out of me. especially with my background, hearing you talk about corrupting me is a total power trip.

23. tell me to open wider for you. i want to feel like i’m being split in half while you encourage me to take every last inch.

24. whisper that you can’t believe how much cum i’m taking. i want to feel like a bottomless pit for you, just soaking up everything you give me.

25. tell me i’m a good little malay girl while you’re doing the most haram things to me. the contrast is just... god, it’s too much.

26. say you want to record me so you can watch me cum over and over. knowing you want to keep the memory of my pleasure makes me feel so desired.

27. tell me to taste myself off your fingers. i want to know exactly what you’re tasting when you’re down there.

28. say you’re going to make me forget my own name. i want to be so lost in the feeling that nothing else exists but your voice and your cock.

29. tell me you’re not stopping until i’m shaking and begging for mercy. i want to be completely exhausted by you.

30. don’t stay quite when you’re using me. just moan.

31. then, when it’s all over, just whisper “i got you” while you hold me. because after all that filth, i still need to know i’m safe.

that’s it. if you can’t say at least five of these things while you’re inside me, don’t even bother showing up. i’m not here for a silent movie.

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So yeah.. remember I told you about that time I was thinking of taking two cocks at once..? Well I had been thinking about the time when it actually happened so i decided to talk about that in this post.

So it happened when I moved to Melbourne for uni for the first time and I was still wearing my hijab around that time.. Even though the freedom here is insane compared to KL lah seriously.. I went to this classmate’s birthday party in South Yarra at some fancy house with a pool out the back.. lots of white boys there who looked at me like I was something on a menu haha.

I got talking to this guy Ben who had the most beautiful blue eyes.. we were flirting all night over drinks.. he kept touching me under the table.. then his mate James joined us later on.. both of them were keen as fuck to get me back to mine for a little after party.

We got an Uber back to mine & as soon as we walked in the door Ben pulled me in close & started kissing me hard up against the wall while James watched us from across the room stroking his cock through his pants like a fucking creep lol.

Ben undressed me slowly leaving just my hijab on (he said it turned him on) then he pushed me down onto the bed & started eating out my pussy like a starved man while James sucked & played with both of my tits at once biting down hard on one nipple while twisting the other between his fingers.

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My pussy was absolutely drenched already from anticipation of what was about to happen next (I’d been fantasising about this moment for weeks) then Ben climbed on top of me & slid his cock inside me while James squirted lube all over his dick & fingers before starting to finger fuck my tight little asshole open real slow.

I moaned loudly as he worked two fingers inside stretching me wider than ever before until eventually he replaced them with his thick cock pushing himself deep inside while Ben fucked me hard from below filling both holes at once with their big Aussie cocks. Ah thinking and writing about it now makes me so much horny i don’t know what to do lol.

The feeling was insane honestly… being filled up completely like that was almost too much pleasure to handle.. I could barely breathe let alone speak coherently except for screaming “fuck yes deeper harder more” over & over again until we all came pretty quickly from sheer intensity alone tbh (they pulled out just in time spraying hot sticky loads all over my stomach thighs ass cheeks etc).

But obviously I couldn’t stop there could I?? A few weeks later after another wild night out partying with those same boys plus an extra friend called Sam who’d heard about our little escapade already 😉 we decided to take things up another notch..

We took turns using all three of them at once…one stretching out my pussy wide open while another pounded away deep inside that tight little arsehole & yet another shoved his fat cock down throat making sure not leave any hole unused throughout entire session haha!

By end night cum covered literally everything: hair mouth tits belly button even toes ffs 😂 But honestly best part wasn’t mess left behind afterwards (although cleaning up definitely added excitement factor) rather knowing managed fulfil long held fantasy despite nerves beforehand feeling proud of myself able handle such intense experience without backing down halfway through like some little bitch would’ve done instead!

So yeah hottest foursome ever hands down can’t wait see what else future holds now boundaries well truly pushed beyond anything thought possible before coming here Australia x

Also, kinda wrote this after 3 glasses of wine like @Finding my path suggested 😂

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Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

Okay so it wasn’t the same day. I have to say that upfront because I know when I told my friend Lin about all this she thought it happened all in one big afternoon like some porn movie and I had to correct her. No babes. Irfan was a virgin boy. Virgin boys do not have a second round in them ten minutes after the first. Well, I guess so. He came in Auntie Suraya so fast the first time have I already told you about that? And then he sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands going “aiyo aiyo aiyo” like someone had just told him his exam results, and his little dick just went sad and floppy and refused to cooperate no matter what Suraya did to it. She tried. She had him in her mouth for like fifteen minutes, doing this thing with her tongue that I was taking mental notes on, and he just... nothing. He was cooked. Overcooked actually. Boy was rice left in the pot too long.

So she kissed him on the forehead and told him it was okay, it happens, and she got up and put on her kaftan and made us all Milo and we sat on her bed drinking it and she talked to him very softly about how next time he needs to breathe and think about something boring for a bit, and Irfan was nodding like a student in tuition class and I was sitting there with my thighs still wet and my whole body buzzing like a phone on silent and I thought — okay, another day then. Another day.

Another day turned out to be the Saturday after. My mother dropped me off at Auntie’s after lunch, same routine, “jaga baik-baik ye” through the car window, and Suraya kissing me on both cheeks at the gate smelling like jasmine and me knowing what the afternoon was going to be. My underwear was already damp before I even took off my shoes. That’s not an exaggeration. I checked in the downstairs bathroom and I had that stretchy clear stuff already coming out of me. Just from anticipation. My body had learned already.

Irfan was there. Of course and he was sitting in the living room with a can of 100Plus pretending to watch a football match on Astro that he clearly didn’t care about, and when I walked in he stood up too fast and knocked the can over on the coffee table and she laughed from the kitchen and shouted “haiyo Irfan relax lah” and he went red from his neck up to the tips of his ears. He was in these grey basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt and I could already see he was half-hard just from me walking in the room. Which — okay. That did something to me. To know I did that just by existing in a doorway.

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Suraya came out wiping her hands on a tea towel and looked at both of us and just said, very casual, “come, upstairs, before the afternoon gets away from us.” Like we were about to help her fold laundry. Kkrrk went the fan blades upstairs when she turned it on, that specific rattle her ceiling fan has because one of the screws is loose. The room smelled like her like jasmine and underneath the faint smell of us from last week that had never really left the sheets even though she’d washed them. I swear you could still smell it. Or maybe I was imagining. Either way my mouth started watering.

She sat us both on the edge of the bed and she stood in front of us like a teacher and she said, “Nadia sayang, today Irfan is going to be inside you. Slowly. And if at any point you say stop, he stops. Faham?” Irfan nodded so hard I thought his head would come off. I said yes, my voice already gone thin and papery. She said, “Irfan, you are going to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. If you feel it coming you pull out and you count backwards from ten in Bahasa. Faham?” He said “faham” and I nearly laughed because it was so serious and so ridiculous all at once, but then she put her hand on the side of my face and turned me to look at her and everything got quiet in my head.

She undressed me herself. Took her time. Lifted my t-shirt off over my head, folded it on the chair and unhooked my bra which was one of those training bras with the little bow in the middle that I hated but my mother made me wear. Off it went. My nipples were already tight and rock hard and Irfan made a little sound in his throat like he’d been punched. Then my skirt, then my underwear which she peeled down slow, and there was a wet spot on it right where I’d been sitting, and she made a soft “mm” sound seeing it.

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Then it was Irfan’s turn and she made him do it himself, standing up, in front of me. He pulled his t-shirt off and he had that skinny boy body, all ribs and one little brown mole above his belly button, and when he pulled his shorts down his cock came springing out like it had been waiting behind a door. It was — okay I have to describe it because I haven’t done that in the previous post and if I don’t I’ll be leaving stuff out — it was not huge but it was proportional to him, curved a bit upward, the head this dark plum colour and already leaking, and his balls hanging heavy under it because he was so worked up. Not like last week’s mess where he came before anyone could do anything. This time he looked at her and took a breath in through his nose and out through his mouth like she’d told him, and I saw him think about something boring for a second, and his cock twitched but he didn’t lose it.

Suraya kissed me. That was the first thing. Long, slow, tongue kiss that made me forget Irfan was in the room for a second, her hand cupping my whole pussy from below and just holding it, warm palm pressed against me, one finger sliding through my slit to check — and I was already so wet that her finger came away shiny and she showed it to Irfan and said “see? she’s ready. See how wet she is for you?” And Irfan looked like he might actually pass out…..

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Okay listen. I made this list at like 2am after my third glass of wine and I’m not editing it because if I edit it I’ll chicken out and take half of it out. These are just things. Things I want done to my pussy. By anyone. A man, a woman, both at the same time, I honestly don’t care. Read at your own risk babes.

1. Lap at it like a hungry dog. Like actually. I don’t want elegant. I don’t want that slow “I read a Cosmo article” tongue circle bullshit. I want someone flat on their stomach between my thighs going at me sloppy, tongue wide, spit everywhere, making that wet slapping sound. I want to hear them breathing hard through their nose because they can’t be bothered to pull away for air.

2. Blow air on it. Just — cool air, right on my clit, when I’m already dripping. It’s such a small thing and it makes me jump every time. Bonus points if they do it after licking me, so that patch of wetness goes cold and I gasp.

3. Vibrate it with their mouth. You know the trick. Lips sealed around my clit and then they hum, deep in their throat. First guy who did this to me I nearly kicked him in the face I came so hard. Do that. Hum me a whole damn song.

4. Use their whole hand to rub it up and down. Not fingers. Not delicate. The whole palm, flat, dragging from my clit down to my hole and back, slow, pressing. Like they’re polishing me. Sounds weird written down but I promise if you’ve had it done you know.

5. Make me so wet it drips. I don’t know how to say this without sounding gross but I want a puddle. I want to feel it running down between my cheeks. I want them to have to put a towel down. I want the shame of standing up afterwards and seeing the wet patch shaped like a country.

6. Put stuff inside me. Yeah. A cucumber. A zucchini (peel it first please I’m not insane). The handle of a hairbrush. A cold glass bottle. A candle when it’s not lit. I want the weight of something that isn’t a human body part stretching me out.

7. Ruin me with an oversized dildo. Like one of those ridiculous ones you see and go “who could POSSIBLY —” that one. I want to be scared of it and then take it anyway. I want to walk funny the next day.

8. Spit on me and lube me up and fist me. All the way. Knuckles disappearing. I want to feel full in a way that a cock cannot achieve. I want someone whispering “good girl, breathe, open for me” while they work their whole hand into me slow.

9. Ice cube. Trace it around my clit. Push it inside me and let it melt. The shock of cold followed by their hot mouth right after — insane. Absolutely insane. Do it.

10. Slap it. Just an open-hand smack right on my mound. Not hard enough to hurt for real. Hard enough to sting and echo. Then rub the sting away with two fingers. Then do it again.

11. Suck on my clit like it’s a tiny nipple. Full seal, gentle pull, tongue flicking underneath. Keep doing it even when I try to squirm away because it’s too much. Especially then.

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12. Eat me while I’m on my period. I said what I said. If you love me you’ll do it. Towel down, lights off, whatever you need. It’s the horniest I ever get and nobody talks about it.

13. Tongue in my ass while a finger’s in my pussy. Or the other way around. I don’t care. Both holes occupied. That’s the point.

14. Rub the tip of a cock up and down my slit without putting it in. For like ten minutes. Until I’m begging. Until I’m actually saying “please” in this pathetic voice I don’t recognise. Then still make me wait.

15. Fingers curled up hitting my g-spot while their thumb rubs my clit and their other hand is around my throat. Yes it’s a lot of hands. Figure it out.

16. Cum on it. Just a load on my pussy, dripping down. And then eat me out through it. I know. I know. But god.

17. A vibrator held right on my clit while someone fucks me. Not for a minute. Until I’m crying. Until I’ve come three times and I’m shaking and saying no and meaning yes.

18. Bite the inside of my thigh, right where it meets my pussy. Leave a mark. I want to see it in the mirror the next morning and remember.

19. Two tongues at once. Don’t ask me how you’re going to arrange it. That’s your problem. I want two mouths on me. One on my clit, one lower. Or both fighting for the same spot. Whatever. Solve it.

20. Blow me. Like — a guy going down on another guy energy but on my clit. Head bobbing, hand at the base making a fist around nothing, moaning like it’s the best thing they ever tasted.

21. Finger me under the table at dinner. I know it’s not new. I don’t care. I want it. In public. Around people. A restaurant. A cinema. Somewhere I have to keep a straight face.

22. Rim me while I use a vibrator on myself. They don’t even have to touch my pussy. Just — behind. Tongue busy. And let me do the front.

23. Put a butt plug in me before we even start and then fuck my pussy so I feel double stuffed the whole time.

24. Whisper filthy shit into me. Literally into my pussy. Lips against my clit, saying things I can’t quite hear, so the words vibrate against me. Tell me what a slut I am. Tell my pussy directly. I don’t know why this works for me but it does.

25. Finger me until I squirt and then keep going. Don’t stop when I try to close my legs. Hold them open. Make me do it again. And again. I want the sheets destroyed. I want to be embarrassed about the laundry.

26. Kiss it. Like — actual kisses. Lips only, no tongue, soft, slow. Kiss my pussy like it’s my mouth. Like you love it. Like it’s a person.

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27. Shave me. Sit me on the edge of the bathroom counter, spread my legs, warm water and cream and a fresh razor, take your time. Then rinse me off. Then dry me. Then eat me because I’m smooth for you.

28. Take a photo of it. Weird one but here we are. I want someone to make me spread my legs and take a picture on their phone and save it and look at it later when I’m not around. That’s it. That’s the fantasy.

29. Overstimulate me until I laugh. That weird nervous laugh you do when your body has run out of responses. I want to be at that point.

30. Put some ice cream over my pussy and lick it clean.

That’s the list. That’s it. If you’re still reading this and you know me — no you don’t.

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Part I, Part II

So I’m at Auntie Suraya’s again on a Saturday, and she texted me the night before like “wear something nice ok, and shave.” Which. Okay. I read that message probably fifty times before I slept. I picked out my white cotton dress, the one that buttons down the front, and I shaved everything in the shower that morning while my heart was doing something weird against my ribs. My mom asked why I was so dressed up to go do homework and I lied straight to her face and said Auntie was taking me to lunch after.

When I got there Suraya opened the door in this thin batik kaftan, no bra I could tell, and she smiled at me like she was about to feed me something. She goes, “Nadia sayang, I got you a present.” And I was thinking, what, a book, a bag, some skincare. A vibrator? No. She led me to the living room and there was a boy on her couch.

His name was Irfan. Twenty three, she said. Family friend’s son, studying engineering somewhere in Shah Alam, and — this is what she whispered in my ear when she pulled me into the kitchen — he had never fucked anyone. Never. Virgin like me. She’d been talking to him for weeks apparently, and he was curious, and she thought we’d be, in her words, “cute together, and Auntie can teach both of you.”

I nearly died. I actually gripped the counter. She was pouring us all iced tea like this was a normal Saturday. She put her hand on the small of my back and pushed me back into the living room.

Irfan was tall and lanky, had that skinny university boy energy, glasses, curly hair, kind of a nice mouth. He kept smiling at the floor. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt and jeans and I could see his adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed. Poor guy was as scared as me.

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Suraya sat us both down on the couch, side by side, and she took the armchair across from us like she was directing a play. She goes, “Okay, Irfan. Nadia. Both of you don’t know what you’re doing so Auntie will guide, ya lah? Nadia, put your hand on his thigh. Not there, higher. Ya, like that.”

I did it. His thigh was warm through the denim. He looked at me and I looked at him and we both did this nervous little laugh.

“Irfan, cup her face. Don’t grab. Gently. Like she’s mahal. Yes, like that. Now lean in slow. Nadia, tilt your head. Other way, sayang, you’ll bump noses. Ya. Now.”

And he kissed me. Just a soft press first, dry lips, and he pulled back a little and I could feel him breathing on my mouth. Suraya’s voice came again, low and calm, “Open your mouth a little. Both of you. Use your tongue. Slow. Taste each other.”

The second kiss was different. His tongue slid against mine and I made this small sound I didn’t mean to make. He tasted like the iced tea. His hand slid from my jaw down to my neck and Suraya said “good, Irfan, ya, put your hand there, feel her pulse.”

She had us make out for what must have been ten whole minutes just like that. Kissing, breathing, learning. She’d say things like “Nadia, suck his bottom lip. Ya. Irfan, bite hers, gently.” My dress was riding up on my thighs and I could feel wetness soaking through my panties already, just from kissing.

Then she goes, “Okay. Nadia, unbutton your dress for him. Show him.”

I did it with shaking fingers. Button by button. I wasn’t wearing a bra either — Suraya had told me not to. When my dress fell open Irfan actually gasped, this tiny broken sound, and I saw his cock strain against his jeans. Suraya laughed softly. “Ya Irfan, look. Cantik kan? Beautiful right? Touch. Use your mouth.”

He leaned in and put his mouth on my nipple and I nearly jumped off the couch. His tongue was hot and hesitant and Suraya was murmuring “suck it, gently, use your tongue on the tip, ya, macam tu. Like that.” My hand was in his hair and I was making these little ah, ah sounds I couldn’t help.

Then Suraya stood up and walked over and unbuckled his belt herself. Just like that. She goes, “Irfan, stand up sikit.” And she pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his cock sprang out and it was — okay it was the first cock I ever saw in real life and it was thick, uncut, curving up towards his belly, already leaking at the tip. Veiny. Twitching. I couldn’t stop staring.

Suraya took my hand and wrapped it around him. “Slow, sayang. Squeeze a little. Ya. Up and down. Feel how hard he is for you.” He whimpered. Actual whimper. His head fell back.

She had me stroke him while she guided me. “Thumb on the tip. Spread the wetness. Ya. Now lean down and lick.” And I did. I put my tongue on the head of his cock and he groaned so loud I thought the neighbours would hear. Salty. Musky. Different from anything I’d tasted.

Suraya was behind me now, hands on my hips, pulling my panties down under my dress. She whispered right in my ear, “Auntie’s going to open you up while you suck him, okay sayang? Just like we practised.”

And that’s when everything really started.

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Okay listen. This is embarrassing but also not, because if you’re reading this you’ve probably done half of these yourself and we can just be weird together. Here is the honest, unfiltered inventory of everything I have used to get myself off since I was like fifteen. In no particular order except the first one which will always be first because it was traumatic.

1. The doorknob: I read somewhere on tumblr that girls used to hump doorknobs and I thought — okay, engineering challenge. Squatted over my bedroom door handle at fourteen, tried to lower myself onto it, immediately banged my tailbone and gave up. Zero out of ten. The doorknob remains undefeated.

2. My electric toothbrush: Oral-B, medium bristles, the round spinning head. I turned it around and pressed the back of the head against my clit and I swear to god I came in like ninety seconds. Then I felt guilty and brushed my teeth with it anyway. Been doing that for years. My dentist says my gums are excellent.

3. Travel sized perfume bottles: The little rollerball ones from Bath and Body Works, they slide in so easy and they’re cold which is a whole sensation. I once used a Jo Malone one and now Peony & Blush Suede is permanently associated with cumming into my own hand.

4. My phone on vibrate: I would call myself from my other email just to keep the ring coming. Buzz buzz buzz right on my clit. My screen time was insane and my mom thought I was chronically online. I was. Just not how she thought.

5. Cucumber: The classic. Cold from the fridge, peeled because the skin is rough, and I’d cut it to size and just fuck myself with it slow on my bed with a towel underneath. Never told anyone in my family why I kept buying cucumbers when nobody was making salad. I also used a corn to put in my ass while I fucked myself with the cucumber 🤭

6. Carrots: Skinnier, more for warm-up. Also good if you want something that curves a little. Do NOT recommend baby carrots, learned that the hard way, don’t ask.

7. Zucchini: The big leagues. Thick, heavy, filling. I once came so hard on a zucchini I had to lie there for ten minutes afterwards just staring at the ceiling wondering what my life had become. I have also used it once in my ass.

8. The handheld shower head: Detach it, crank the pressure, angle it right at my clit, and it’s game over in under two minutes. I’ve spent so much time in the shower my skin gets pruney and my mom bangs on the door asking if I died.

9. The bathroom sink faucet: This one requires flexibility. You basically hoist yourself up onto the counter and scoot until you’re under the running water. Warm water directly on your clit is a religious experience. Cold water is a completely different religion.

10. The couch armrest: Straddled it like a horse, ground down, pretended I was riding someone. The velvet one at my ex’s apartment was superior to any couch I have seen since.

11. A pillow between my thighs: Squeezed, humped, folded in half, straddled. The pillow method is elite because it’s silent and deniable. If someone walks in you just look like you’re cuddling weird.

12. Ice cube: Rubbed it slowly around my clit until it melted. The shock of the cold makes everything throb harder when it warms back up. Also good on nipples. Also good if it’s forty degrees outside and the AC broke.

13. Hot and cold water alternating: Cup of warm water, cup of cold, and I’d just alternate splashing myself in the tub. Sounds stupid. But isn’t.

14. The washing machine on spin cycle: Sat on top of it in nothing but a t-shirt. The vibrations go through your entire spine. My laundry has never been cleaner because I would run empty loads on purpose.

15. A hairbrush handle: The long smooth wooden kind. Sanitised, obviously. I’m not a monster.

16. My own fingers, obviously: But specifically two fingers curled up while my other hand rubs circles on my clit and I bite down on my forearm so I don’t scream. The classic. The original. Never fails.

17. A silk scarf: Dragged slowly between my legs, pulled back and forth like a saw. Mmm sounds gentle but feels heavenly.

18. The corner of my desk: During online class. Camera off. Ground my clit against the edge for a full forty minutes while my lecturer talked about something I don’t know. Came silently right before he called on me. Answered the question. Got full marks.

19. A candle: Unlit. A pillar candle, smooth wax, cold. Thick enough to feel stretched. I threw it away after because I couldn’t ever burn it again knowing.

20. An empty shampoo bottle: Don’t judge me. Sometimes you work with what’s in the shower.

21. A rolled-up towel between my thighs while lying face down: Grind, grind, grind. This is how I taught myself to cum when I was younger and I still do it sometimes when I’m too lazy to reach for anything else.

22. The seatbelt in the passenger seat: Long car ride, adjusted it to sit right between my legs, pressed my thighs together, every bump on the highway was a little jolt. Nobody knew. He was driving. I was dying.

23. A vibrating gaming controller: PS4, rumble on max, held it against my clit while my ex played FIFA in the other room. He kept asking why I was so into watching him play. I was not watching him play lol.

And that’s the confession. The honest, filthy, embarrassing list. If you’ve done even three of these we should be friends. If you’ve done more than ten we should probably be more than friends haha 😉

But I’m also looking for new ideas so comment down your list below. 🍆

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Okay so this one. This one I’ve been thinking about for weeks and I still don’t know how to write it without sounding like I’m bragging or lying or both. But it happened. Nap time at Aunt Suraya’s. That’s what I called it in my head after, like it was some innocent childhood thing. Nap time, pleaseeee!

So the setup was like this — I basically manufactured the whole visit. Told my mum Auntie Suraya was helping me with my add maths because Auntie used to be a tuition teacher before she moved to Australia and everyone in the family knew she was the “smart one.” My mum didn’t even blink. She packed me a tupperware of kuih and told me to be polite.

Polite lol. If she only knew. Anyways, I got to Auntie’s flat around two, and it was that dead hot Klang Valley afternoon where the aircon is working overtime and everything smells faintly of the sambal she’d fried for lunch. She was in this thin cotton kaftan, no bra, I could tell because when she bent to pour me syrup her tits just kind of swung there under the fabric and I nearly choked on my own spit. I said I was tired. I said I’d do the homework later. She said okay come lie down lah, the bed is cooler.

Her bed where she and her divorced husband fucked on weekends and he didn’t even do it right, based on the way she was always looking at me. I curled up on my side facing the wall and did my best fake-sleep breathing. Slow in, slow out. My whole body buzzing because I could feel her come into the room, hear the mattress dip, feel the heat of her through the sheet. She lay down behind me. Not touching, not yet. Just close.

Then I heard it this soft wet sound, rhythmic. Her breath going ragged. She was rubbing herself, right there next to me, thinking I was out cold. Maybe I got her turned on somehow or maybe she has watched a porn or something. Idk. I could smell her — that sharp sweet cunt smell coming up through the sheets mixed with her jasmine-scented body lotion, and I swear my mouth actually watered. My own hand had already snuck into my panties by then. I was so wet it was embarrassing, like slippery-down-my-thighs wet, and I was trying so hard to keep my hips still so she wouldn’t notice.

I noticed her noticing though. Her breathing hitched, then stopped. Long pause. And then her hand warm and a little damp — slid over my hip, down the front of my shorts, right under the elastic of my panties, and her fingers just went straight for my clit like she’d been mapping it in her head for months. “Nadia,” she whispered, right into the shell of my ear, “you naughty little liar.”

I gasped. Full gave up the fake sleep. Turned my face into the pillow and she laughed this low dirty laugh and said “no no, look at me, tengok auntie.” She rolled me onto my back and got her whole hand down my shorts properly, two fingers already circling my clit, slow and mean. “So wet already,” she said. “Kau ni memang gatal, kan?” You’re such a horny little thing, aren’t you. And I nodded because what else was I supposed to do? Her fingers were sliding down and pushing inside me and it hurt-good in this way that made my eyes water. Her other hand went up under my t-shirt and just — took my tit. Whole handful. She wasn’t gentle. She rolled my nipple between her thumb and finger and pinched until I whimpered and then she leaned down and kissed me on the mouth, hard, tongue first, tasting like the teh she’d drunk at lunch. I didn’t even know how to kiss back properly. She kissed me like she was trying to eat me, all wet and hungry, biting my bottom lip. “Auntie’s been watching you,” she muttered against my mouth. Her fingers were fucking me properly now, thick knuckles working in and out, her palm grinding against my clit. “Every family dinner. Sitting there all pretty in your baju kurung, pretending you don’t know what you’re doing to me. Kau ingat auntie tak nampak?” You think auntie didn’t see?

I came embarrassingly fast. Like, humiliatingly fast. My whole body seized up and I made this noise — “ahh-ah-ah-ahh-ahhhhhh” — muffled into her shoulder because I still had some sense that her neighbours might hear through the thin walls. She kept her fingers inside me through the whole thing, feeling me clench around her, and she was smiling. I could feel her smiling against my cheek. “Good girl,” she said. “Sekarang giliran auntie.” Now it’s auntie’s turn. And that’s where I have to stop for part one because my hands are shaking just typing this.

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The air in my room was filled with post-fast lethargy on 2018’s Ramadan afternoon that makes your bones feel weak and your thoughts all syrupy slow. Aunt Suraya had burst in, with some kind of energy and the smell of jasmine, as she always does, a great contrast to my own quietness. She found me there, of all places, in front of the full-length mirror in my room. Not admiring myself, no. I was picking. Picking at the way the fabric of my new baju kurung sat across my hips, at the way the hijab framed a face that felt a little too round and a lot softer than runaway models. The silent ritual of self-flagellation.

“Eh, what’s with the face? Macam kena hantu raya, lah,”You look like you’ve seen a ghost, she teased, her voice was warm melody in the stillness. I tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle, a hollow sound. She knew me too well. The conversation that followed was a confession, an admission of all the things I saw wrong in the reflection. The way my thighs pressed together, the curve of my belly, the shape that never quite matched the airbrushed perfection I saw in models on Instagram.

She listened with a serious look in her eyes that was so unlike her usual playful demeanor. Then, she stepped closer and gave me a reassuring touch on my shoulder. “Dengar sini” Listen to me, she murmured, her voice dropping a bit. “After what I’m about to show you now, you won’t feel bad about your body after this anymore.”

Before I could even say a word, she crossed the room and clicked the lock on my door. My heart, which had been a slow, tired drum, started to thump a new, frantic rhythm against my ribs. Suraya turned back to me, her eyes holding mine in the reflection of the mirror. A smile touched her lips.

She reached for the hem of her own shirt, the one that clung to the generous curves of her figure. She pulled it off, a fluid, graceful motion, letting it fall to the floor. Then her bra unhooked. My breath hitched in my throat. Her body was a revelation, a map of soft, delicious territories. It wasn’t the body of a fashion magazine, but it was better because it was real. There were curves that begged to be held, a gentle softness around her midsection that looked impossibly inviting, and her breasts… god, they were perfect, heavy and full, with nipples so juicy I coulnd’t wait to take them in my mouth….

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Okay so I have to tell you about this one. I’ve been sitting on it for a year and a half and it’s kind of burning a hole in me, so here we go. Pour yourself a glass of vodka or something cuz this one’s filthy.

So, first year. I was nineteen, three months into Melbourne, still wearing my hijab properly like with pins under the chin, no hair showing, and all…the whole production i mean. Thursday night at the campus bar, that grim little place near the Menzies building with sticky carpet and schnitzel night and music too loud for anyone to actually talk. I was nursing a lemon lime and bitters like a child pretending it was a cocktail, because I hadn’t figured out yet that nobody on campus actually cares what’s in your glass. And then there was Danny (don’t worry it isn’t his real name).

He was an American tho but with an Aussie accent, curly hair buzzed on the sides, forearms that I’m telling you — forearms, babes — the veiny kind, the one that makes you immediately wonder what his hands feel like. He leaned on the bar next to me with his beer dangling between two fingers and just looked at me. Not in a creepy manner. More like he was working something out. He asked where I was from. Malaysia, I said. He asked if I was Muslim. I said yeah like it wasn’t already obvious duh. And then he tilted his head with this little smirk and said, “You virgin?”

I should’ve been mad. I mean the old me, KL me, would’ve gone the colour of a ripe rambutan and stomped off. But the Melbourne me just laughed and that too out loud. And then she said no. His smirk got bigger. He leaned right into my ear — close enough that I could smell his deodorant and the beer on his breath — and goes, “Would you let me fuck your mouth while you keep that on?” The scarf. He meant the scarf still pinned, still neat, framing my face like a good Muslim girl while his cock was down my throat. Like it was some kind of a kink or something.

The audacity? But I’m not gonna lie to you — my cunt clenched at hearing that.

Right there.

Standing at the bar in three layers of modest clothing and clenching like a slut because some boy I’d known fifteen minutes wanted to do the most haram thing imaginable and I wanted it too. I said yes. Obviously😂. We then ended up in his car. Backseat, parked behind the engineering building where the security lights don’t reach. Windows fogged up within about four minutes flat. He kissed me first and his hand went straight to the back of my head — gripping the fabric of my hijab, not my hair, the fabric — and pulling me into him. I cannot describe to you what that feels like unless you’ve worn one. The pins tugging at your chin, the silk pulled tight across your skull, a tongue pushing into your mouth. It’s this weird double sensation, like you’re naked and dressed at the same time, like you’re being two people at once.

I unzipped him. He was already rock hard, thick, cut, leaking at the tip — flushed pink and shiny with precum and I literally could not get my mouth on him fast enough. He smelled like sweat and laundry detergent and that warm-skin-warm-cock smell that makes you stupid. I bent down. The angle was shit — seatbelt buckle stabbing my hip, my forehead bumping the steering wheel column — but I got him in my mouth and he made this noise, this strangled fuuuck that I felt vibrate all the way down to my clit.

I went slow at first. Tongue flat under the shaft, working the head with my lips, feeling him twitch against my palate every time I sucked (I learned this from watching porn but that’s another story for another time). And the entire time — the entire time — my hijab stayed on. Pins still in. Not a hair out of place. Just this neat little rectangle of modesty around my face while I was drooling all over a stranger’s cock in a car park.

He bunched the fabric at the back of my head into his fist and used it like a handle. Pulled me down. Held me there. I gagged, spit running down his shaft and pooling on his balls, mascara probably leaking, and he just groaned and started fucking up into my throat in these short desperate little thrusts. And here’s the part I’m still chewing on a year later — I fucking loved it. Not just the sex part. The wrongness of it 😂. The contradiction. The way the scarf was screaming good girl while my throat was screaming USE ME!. Those two things sitting inside me at the exact same time and neither one being a lie.

For maybe the first time in my entire life I felt fully seen. Not the modest version. Not the slutty version. Both. At once. By a guy whose last name I still don’t know. He came in my mouth. Hot, bitter, thick — I swallowed because spitting felt wasteful, which tells you everything. He was twitching, swearing in a foreign language I didn’t know, fingers pale-knuckled in my scarf. I sat up. Cum on my lip. Hijab crooked maybe two centimetres. Thighs absolutely soaked through my jeans. I fixed my pins in his rearview mirror, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, said thanks like an idiot, and walked back to my dorm with him still on my tongue. I felt empowered? Degraded?

Honestly babe I don’t know and I don’t think it matters lol. I think the only word I’ve got is honest. That night was the most honest thing I’d done in nineteen years. And I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since.

What about you? What was the most honest thing you’ve ever done?

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1. The library guy. The one with the glasses and the veins in his forearms that look like rivers on a map. I think about him pinning me against the reference section, his hand over my mouth while I struggle, but not really struggle, you know? Like when you pretend to push someone away but you’re really pulling them closer. He doesn’t stop when I beg, and that’s the point. The begging is part of it.

2. Auntie Suraya. Yeah, I know. My actual aunt. But there’s something about the way she used to grip my arm when I was little, guiding me through crowded markets in KL. Her nails digging in just a little too hard. In my head, those nails are on my throat. She’s sitting on my chest, her thighs straddling my face, telling me I’ve been bad. That I need to be punished. Her voice is low and gravelly, like she’s been smoking since birth.

3. The woman from the tram. Two weeks ago. She smiled at me over her phone, and I still think about the curve of her lips. The way her hair fell across her face. I imagine her pulling me into the bathroom at the next stop, pushing me against the grimy tiles, her fingers inside me while the train rumbles beneath us. We don’t speak. We don’t need to.

4. My own reflection. This one’s weird, I know. But sometimes I position myself in front of the mirror, spread my legs, and watch myself watching me. It’s like being in two places at once. The girl in the mirror looks like a stranger, and that stranger is doing things to me. I’m touching myself, and I’m also just observing. Like I’m both the performer and the audience.

5. Being tied to a bed in a hotel room. The sheets are white and crisp. I’m naked and I’ve been there for hours. My wrists are raw. My thighs are wet and sticky. My mouth is dry. I don’t know when someone’s coming back, or if someone’s coming back at all. That uncertainty is what gets me. That floating feeling between pleasure and panic.

6. A threesome with two men who don’t speak English. They find me at a bar in some foreign country where I don’t know the language either. They don’t ask permission. They just take. One has his hands on my hips, the other has my hair wrapped around his fist. They’re talking to each other over my body, laughing, and I don’t understand a single word. All I understand is the fullness.

7. Getting caught by my mother. This one’s the most fucked up, probably. I imagine her walking in while I’m on my bed, legs open, hand moving. And instead of stopping, I just look her dead in the eye and keep going. I don’t apologize. I don’t hide. I just let her watch. And there’s this release in it, this freedom in not being ashamed for once.

Here’s the thing, most of these scenarios are things I would probably never get to experience. And that’s why I like to imagine myself in these situations. They’re just weird little movies your brain plays for you when you need to get off. And sometimes the movies are dark. Sometimes they star your aunt. Sometimes you’re being choked or left alone in a hotel room.

When I was fourteen and I had my first real orgasm, I was replaying my aunt eating me out. I still do that from time to time even now. It helps me get off fast.

So what do our fantasies say about us? Probably nothing. Or everything. Or something in between. I don’t know. I think about Auntie Suraya because she was the first person who made me feel horny and that too as a woman. I think about being held down because there’s something nice about not having to be in control for five minutes. I think about my mother walking in because maybe I want to stop hiding from her. Maybe I want her to see the whole mess of me and still love me.

Or maybe I just want to cum. Maybe that’s all it’s ever been.

The first time I ever masturbated, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was twelve, visiting my aunt in Malaysia. She had this pink vibrator in her bathroom drawer. I found it by accident. I didn’t even know what it was until I turned it on and felt it buzz against my palm. That night, I lay in bed and pressed it between my legs. I didn’t think about anything. I just felt.

My aunt found out. I don’t know how. Maybe I left it out. Maybe she saw me through the crack in the door. She came in and sat on the edge of my bed. She didn’t yell. She didn’t shame me. She just asked if I wanted to learn. And I said yes.

She showed me where to touch. Right there. The little pearl of flesh that nobody talks about. She circled it with her finger, and I squirmed. She told me not to squirm. She told me to relax. Her voice was soft and firm. Like she was teaching me how to tie my shoes.

She guided my hand down to my wetness. She told me to coat my fingers. To make it slippery. She told me to imagine I was writing my name. Slow. Only slow. She watched me do it. Her eyes on my hand. My hand on my cunt.

And then she took over. Her finger slipped inside me. Just one. She moved it in and out, in and out, while her thumb worked that little pearl. I remember thinking it was too much. That I would die from the feeling. That my legs were shaking. That my breath was coming out in little gasps. I don’t know why I didn’t tell her to stop. I didn’t want her to stop. I was scared and excited and confused and I came so hard I almost passed out.

That’s my first memory of coming. Not just coming. Being brought there by someone else. By my aunt. In a pink room in Malaysia. With the fan whirring above us and the smell of mothballs in the air.

We never talked about it again. I don’t even know if she remembers. But I think about it sometimes, when I’m alone in my room, when I’m touching myself and thinking about all the things I shouldn’t want. I think about her finger inside me. I think about her thumb. I think about the way she watched me. Not like a creep. Like a teacher. Like she was proud of me for getting it right.

And then I cum. And I feel nothing but that. Nothing but the release. Nothing but the afterglow and the sweat and the way my sheets get all tangled up around my legs. And I don’t think about what it means. I don’t think about anything. I just lie there and breathe.

That’s the real gap. The thinking and the not thinking. The wanting and the having. The fantasy and the actual moment when your body takes over and your brain just goes quiet.

That’s what I think about when I’m masturbating.

And then I come. And then it’s over. And then I go back to being the person who has to hold it together. The person who isn’t tied to a bed. The person who isn’t being choked.

But for those few minutes, I let myself be something else.

But what about you? What are the things you think about when you are masturbating?

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Hi. Salaam or hi. Whatever greeting makes you comfortable, because comfort is something I’ve spent twenty-one years learning to abandon.

My name’s Nadia, I’m twenty-one, and a third-year Communications student. I was born in Malaysian but recently I moved to Melbourne for studies. And I’m chronically horny since roughly the age of thirteen.

I grew up in Kuala Lumpur in one of those households where the TV got switched off if a woman in a tank top appeared on screen but somehow nobody questioned why the curtains in my parents’ bedroom were always drawn on Friday afternoons. You can guess the rest. And

I was supposed to be good. Tudung on. Eyes down. Avoiding boys. Avoiding porn. Legs closed. Not having self pleasure.

Except I was never good.

Even when I wore the modest blouses, the soft voice around elders, the way I’d hold my Quran with both hands during Khatam ceremonies like it was precious. Mind you it was precious. I’m not mocking my faith. I’m just telling you it never stopped me from masturbating, watching some girl on Tumblr get her ass spread open by a man twice her size, biting my pillow so my sister in the next bed wouldn’t hear the wet little sounds my fingers made sliding in and out of my soaking pussy. I’d come silently with my thighs clenched, and whisper Astaghfirullah into the dark. And kissing my aunt. That one i will tell you about later.

Let me tell you something about growing up horny in a conservative Muslim household in KL now. You don’t stop being horny. You just get like really, really good at hiding it. You learn to angle your phone away. You learn to take long showers without anyone asking why. You learn to cross your legs a certain way during family dinners because your cousin brushed your knee under the table and your underwear is suddenly damp and nobody NOBODY can ever know.

And then you get on a plane to Melbourne, and the seatbelt sign turns off, and it’s like someone unclenched a fist that’s been tight around your chest for eighteen years.

I landed in Australia at nineteen. Orientation week at Monash was the smell of freedom. Melbourne air in February, eucalyptus and hot bitumen and cheap sunscreen from the girl standing next to me in line at the campus bookshop, her singlet strap falling off a tanned shoulder, and I remember thinking: Nobody here is watching me.

Nobody cared if my hair was out. Nobody cared that my jeans were tight enough to show the outline of my panties. Nobody flinched when I ordered a cider at the campus bar that first week, my hands shaking slightly because some part of me still expected my father’s voice behind me.

It didn’t come and it made me braver than anything.

My first semester I kissed a boy at a house party in Clayton. Tongue and all. He tasted like VB and Doritos and I didn’t care. I let him press me against the hallway wall with his thigh between my legs and I ground on it like a desperate little thing, my hijab — yes, I was still wearing it then — sliding back on my head while his hand found the waistband of my jeans. I came like that. Standing up. In a stranger’s hallway. His thigh soaked through. He didn’t even get my name.

That was the beginning. But the real beginning that cracked me open years before Melbourne was my aunt.

---

I need to talk about Auntie Suraya.

She’s my mum’s younger sister. Thirty-four now, thirty-one when it started. She moved to Perth for work when I was sixteen, but before that she lived with us in KL for almost a year, sleeping in the room next to mine. She was different. Divorced. Didn’t wear tudung at home. Smelled like jasmine oil and cigarettes she thought nobody knew about. She had this body — ya Allah — wide hips, soft belly, full tits that sat heavy under her kain batik when she walked around the house after Maghrib. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I hated myself for it. I’d pray extra. But it didn’t help.

Then It started small. I guess she knew and she’d come into my room at night to talk. Sit on the edge of my bed. Her hand on my ankle, then my calf, then higher. She asked me once if I’d ever touched myself. I lied. She smiled like she knew I was lying. Her fingers traced circles on my inner thigh through my pajama pants, and my breathing got short and shallow, and she whispered — in Malay “Tak apa, sayang. Auntie tahu.”

It’s okay, darling. Auntie knows.

She knew.

The first time she touched me, her fingers slipping under my waistband, finding me slick and swollen and embarrassingly ready — I came in under a minute. Her middle finger circling my clit in slow, patient strokes while her other hand covered my mouth because I was whimpering, hips lifting off the mattress, grinding against her palm like my body had been starving for exactly this and nothing else would ever feed it. Her tongued explored my mouth. I could smell her, warm skin, the faint musk of her own arousal and when I came she kissed my forehead and pulled the blanket over me and left without a word.

It happened again. And again. It escalated. Her mouth between my legs on a Tuesday afternoon when everyone else was at a kenduri. Her tongue flat and warm dragging from my pussy to my clit, lapping slowly, deliberately, like she was savouring something. I gripped her thick, dark, still damp from the shower hair and watched her head move between my thighs and felt something fundamental shift in me that never shifted back.

She taught me what my body could do. She’s the reason I know I like it when someone spits on my asshole before pushing a finger in. She’s the reason I know the exact pressure I need on my clit, the firm, circular, slightly to the left. She’s the reason I understand that shame and arousal can coexist in the same breath, the same moan, the same slick mess between your legs.

Suraya lives in Perth now. I visit during semester breaks. What happens there... that’s for another post.

---

Which brings me to the thing I really want to talk about on this Substack is I love anal.

I mean I love it. Not in a cute, “oh I tried it once and it was fine” way. I mean I crave it. I think about it during lectures in college hours. I think about it when I’m grocery shopping at Woolies, squeezing avocados, thinking about how good it felt last weekend when this guy I’m seeing bent me over his kitchen counter and worked his cock into my ass inch by inch while I moaned into the cold granite like a bitch in heat. He’s thick enough that it stretches me wide, that slow burn of fullness that makes my eyes water and my cunt drip onto the floor. He held my hips and fed it deeper and I could feel every ridge, every vein, the slight upward curve of him pressing against that spot that makes my legs shake. When he bottomed out, his balls pressed warm and heavy against my pussy, and I swear I could feel him in my stomach.

I came untouched. Just from that. Just from being full.

I want to write about all of it here. Every filthy, taboo, haram detail. The men. The women. The aunt who still texts me at midnight with photos that would get us both disowned. The things I do in this beautiful, anonymous city where nobody from my old life can see me.

This blog is my confessional. No judgement box.

Subscribe if you want. But if you don’t I’m going to write it either way.

— Nadia 🖤

Melbourne, June 2026. Typing this cross-legged on my bed in my Monash hoodie with no underwear on, because I can.

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