Sitting there at my desk in the middle of typing an email, I had a image randomly flash through my head.

I was pushed against the wall – pinned there with his hand around my necks as his mouth bit my erect nipple through my shirt and bra. All I could do was stand there, on my tip-toes, and submit to his assault to my body.

I shifted in my seat, lost in the memory, the email forgotten with my breath a bit ragged as the physical response to that memory swept through me.

I was with friends later when one of them noted my hair was caught and pulled it out from my coat.

He gently pulled my hair out from under me, smoothing it so it wouldn’t get caught. But then his fingers slid up the back of my neck, into my hair where he wrapped it around his hand – pulling my head back – mouth turned up to his own – as he thrust hard into me.

I caught myself before closing my eyes and melting back into the sensation – and giving myself away to the erotic response of the act-induced memory.

Out at lunch one day at a new restaurant, I was looking around and spotted booths in the back – high backed, horseshoe shaped booth.

The noisy, packed bar was but a distance background noise as our kisses deepened. His hand that had been stroking my leg moved to my waist, pulling me closer to his body. Then it traveled further, sliding into the deep v-neck of my shirt. His fingers immediately found my erect nipple and squeezed it firmly. I broke our kiss as I inhaled sharply – the sensation immediately making my pussy tingle with arousal. “No one can see us – I won’t let them see us,” he reassured me by whispering into my mouth, as he rolled my nipple between his fingers and seizing my mouth again. I could have laid back in that booth right there and let him fuck me just as long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.

My friend, whose words I had stopped listening to as that memory replayed itself, repeated her question – clearly noticing my distraction. Thankfully chalking it up to the new place we had found, and not noticing the flush I was feeling with arousal as I relieved that night. 


For some, it involves relieving something they would rather forget. They avoid being triggered at all cost due to the pain the memories can cause.

For me, they are always moments that I can’t wait to relieve. The triggers often result in pleasant surprises.

And always leave me wanting to build more memories to be triggered in the future.

What do you think?

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