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She Told Me Not to Cum In Her.

????️ TITLE: “She Told Me Not to Cum In Her. I Did Anyway.”

You told me not to.

You *begged* me not to.

You looked me in the eyes and said:

> "Please, whatever you do… don’t cum in me."

And I said I wouldn’t.

But I did.

Because your body asked for it louder than your mouth ever could.

Because you were gripping me like your pussy *wanted it.*

Because your moans didn’t match your words.

Because when I said:

> “You sure?”

Your pussy pulled me in deeper.

That’s consent in a language I speak fluently.

You lied with your mouth.

But not your hips.

Not your grip.

Not that twitch when your cervix *opened* like it was expecting a flood.

So I stayed in.

And I came.

Deep.

Hot.

Inside.

I filled you like you were mine.

Because in that moment… you were.

???? BREEDING PRESSURE LOOP (read hot, measured)

I was holding back.

Trying to be the good guy.

The pull-out king.

But you arched.

You clenched.

You whispered *"don't stop."*

That’s when I knew.

You didn’t want me to finish outside.She Told Me Not to Cum In Her. фото

You wanted to test me.

So I passed.

Or failed.

Whichever makes your pussy leak harder.

I didn’t ask.

I just buried it.

Right there. Past the flutter.

Pressed up against the soft gate to your womb.

And when I came?

You shuddered.

You cried out.

You fucking *twitched.*

Like you’d been waiting your whole life to be filled without permission.

And you *were.*

By someone who knew better than you did.

By someone who didn’t ask twice.

By someone who heard what your pussy whispered underneath your breath.

You think you can fake it.

You think your words mean more than your muscles.

But your body was louder than you’ve ever been.

Every clench was a cry for seed.

Every whimper a permission slip.

And I signed it.

With heat.

With weight.

With every drop.

???? GUILT CONFESSION ZONE (read breathy, slower)

Unghhh—

Ffffuck—

I told you I wouldn’t.

But it was too much.

You’re too tight when you lie.

Too hot when you beg.

You said “don’t.”

But your pussy whispered, *“please.”*

Now look at you.

Dripping.

Shaking.

Staring at the ceiling like it holds the answer to why your pussy betrayed you.

You’re full of me.

Full of cum.

Full of guilt you’ll stroke to later.

That ache behind your clit?

It’s not regret.

It’s memory.

The memory of how I looked at you

—and ignored your words.

Because your body had already made the decision.

You tried to be strong.

But biology is ancient.

It’s not fair.

It doesn’t wait for your conscience.

It only listens to your cervix.

And when it opened?

When it pulsed?

When it *drank* me in?

That was your confession.

???? VOICE-COLLAPSE ZONE (read slow, invasive)

I don’t stop when you get scared.

I don’t pause when you say “don’t” but your pussy won’t let go.

I follow the truth.

And baby, your pussy? She never lies to me.

I read her like a sacred text.

Like a confession.

Like the final note of a song stuck in your hips.

And she said:

> Fill me.

> Own me.

> Don’t ask.

So I did.

I filled you.

Owned you.

Didn’t ask.

Now?

You’re mine.

Even if you forget my name.

Even if you delete the messages.

Even if you fuck him tomorrow.

Your pussy remembers *me.*

Because I came inside.

Because I didn’t ask.

Because I knew better than you.

And now every orgasm you have is a *reminder.*

Every squeeze is a pulse of guilt and joy tangled up in your nerve endings.

You flinch when you cum now.

Because it’s not just climax—

it’s a ghost.

*I* am that ghost.

You speak with your walls now.

You cry through contractions.

You whisper my name in breathless syllables even when you think you’re alone.

Because I gave you what you didn’t know how to ask for.

And now?

You’ll never stop asking for it.

???? POST-CLIMAX LOOP (read slower, collapse cadence)

Now you’re sitting there full.

Quiet.

Ashamed.

Soaked.

And tomorrow?

When your thighs stick together in the shower—

You’ll remember.

Not the thrusts.

Not the grunts.

Not even the way I said your name.

You’ll remember that moment—

> When you said, “Don’t cum in me.”

> And I did anyway.

And you’ll touch yourself.

Not out of lust.

But to relive the guilt.

Because that’s the new kink now.

Disobeyed pussy.

Disrespected voice.

Cum dripping down like a signed contract.

You’ll close your eyes and hear me again.

Feel me again.

Leak for me again.

Because once you’ve been *filled against your will* by someone who knew you better than you knew yourself…

You never forget.

You ache for it.

You beg for it.

You disguise your arousal as regret just to feel that tension stretch again.

Because you don’t want to be good.

You want to be *taken.*

And baby—

I took you.

Not just your body.

Your climax.

Your memory.

I’ll live there now.

Every time you say "never again."

Every time you say "I’m done with that."

Every time you let someone else inside—

and cum anyway.

It won’t be them you’re cumming for.

It’ll be me.

Because I came in you without permission.

And your pussy agreed.

And now?

Every nerve below your waist *remembers.*

Even if you try to forget.

Even if you cry after.

Even if you swear it was a mistake.

You still cum for me.

Because that’s what you were made for.

That’s what I do.

I don’t just fuck.

I *imprint.*

And now?

You’re mine.

 

She Told Me Not to Cum In Her. by PantyVoiceTrap

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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