myhoneyedwords
Bio
A twenty year old sex worker who loves to write erotic fiction and sometimes likes to bring those stories to life.
Stories (6)
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Temerity
I find myself drifting away to the idea of a romance that sets my soul on fire. A devotion so damning not even God could save me from my fall from grace. And the fall so full of lust and tenderness that when I hit the ground, I try to claw for something to steady me. The ache my body held from this desire was undeniable, a feeling that can not be ignored.
By myhoneyedwords7 months ago in Writers
Honeysuckle
Tonight was eerily quiet, all that was to be heard was the occasional tree branch sweeping across the window in the wind and the sound of my own breath. It had been one of those evenings where all felt peaceful but that something was missing, I couldn’t quite place what that was ; it was a rather empty feeling that lingered. I let my head fall back onto the back of the chair, cradling the wine glass in my hands, my fingers delicately wrapped around it. My mouth emitting a heavy, fed up sigh; work had been tedious and had completely drained me today. I couldn't stop thinking about the copious amounts of emails I had to sift through on Monday, along with the brief for the company project I had to write up, all the phone calls and the board meetings I had to arrange and attend.
By myhoneyedwords12 months ago in Filthy
Kneel. Content Warning.
Agnostic. I was an agnostic. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure there was a higher entity of some description anymore, or if there was an afterlife, and if there was I was most certainly going to hell ; that I was sure of. I grew up being forced to go to church as a child and all the way through to my teens, attending two prestigious Catholic schools as a child which also reinforced my beliefs. I often questioned my faith as I grew older and bad things happened to me; if God was real then why did all these horrific things happen to me? It was a question that had stuck and lingered, even up till today as a twenty year old woman.
By myhoneyedwordsabout a year ago in Filthy
Debauchery
I’d gotten used to working late at the firm, although I will never get used to the copious amounts of coffee I need to function the following morning. I glance over to the clock on the other side of the room, 11.43pm it reads. Everyone else had left at 6.30pm at the latest, which left me, my thoughts and a tonne of cases looking lonely in the corner of my office. An almost 20 year old paralegal has her own office whilst most people who have been there longer don’t? Yes, you did hear that right, my office. I have spent the past year and a half working my way up through the firm to be able to have my own space to work on cases that require extra attention to detail. The hustle and bustle that surrounded me in the shared cubicles had never been something I’d liked. So I worked my way up. Taking on pro bono cases, doing coffee runs unprompted for the senior lawyers which seemed to please them and assisting them with some of their caseload too at times. I was what people called a suck up, a leech even, but I knew that. I knew if I wanted to get into the game, I had to play the game. Playing the game also meant working alongside my boss which I never minded doing. My associates minded though.
By myhoneyedwordsabout a year ago in Filthy
Hotel Rooms
Hotel rooms are always the places where unspeakable things happen between the sheets or in the shower, the walls only knowing the secrets kept inside of them. A forbidden secret between you and another person, a secret of the pleasure you’ve exchanged, the moans that echoed around that room, how good it all felt. But as soon as you leave that very room, it’s all forgotten. The clothes from the previous night clinging onto those memories, the lust, the euphoric feeling.
By myhoneyedwordsabout a year ago in Filthy
Intimacy
Intimacy as a noun is defined as close familiarity or friendship or to have sexual intercourse/relations. It’s more than the sex for me. It’s the soft touches, the way they make me feel when that surge of electricity simmers beneath my skin. The delicateness I feel when I’m in a submissive state knowing this is my purpose, to please and to serve. The sound of moans echoing through the room. When I curl my toes then plant them firmly into the mattress under me, a way to ground myself when I start to sink. The quickening of my breath when I’m about to come undone, and when I do, the earth shattering high and euphoric pleasure that follows. To me that is everything and more that word stands for.
By myhoneyedwordsabout a year ago in Filthy
