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If your day was exhausting, get the rest you need—by morning, you’ll be ready to return at full strength.💪Good night, my dear friends!✨️

(Don't forget to listen to the song while you read My Story, which has a little bit of truth and a little bit of fiction. I think this song is excellently chosen for this story.)

I’m Natalia, and I still can’t quite grasp how I got to that point, how that man, whom I barely knew, had gained so much control over me. It was as if my will bent to his, and though part of me was shocked, another part surrendered to the intensity of what I felt. It all started on an ordinary day when, just before leaving the university, my phone buzzed with his call. His voice, calm but firm, told me he’d pick me up and take me to my apartment to change clothes. I was stunned. How could someone who had just entered my life wield such power over me? But what surprised me most was his attraction to me, a transgender woman. There was something in his confidence, his way of speaking, that made me feel desired in a way I’d never experienced before.

He arrived on time, and when I got into his car, he gave me a soft kiss on the neck and then on the lips. That simple gesture sent shivers through me. He drove me to my apartment, not far from the university, and with that commanding voice, he asked me to wear a short black dress, garter stockings, and black boots. I don’t know why, but I didn’t hesitate. I changed quickly, put on some makeup to enhance my eyes and lips, and in minutes, I was ready. I looked at myself in the mirror, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Who was this Natalia letting herself be swept away like this?

The drive to his place was a whirlwind of sensations. As he drove, he placed his hand on my knee, playing with my legs in a way that set me on fire. I loved that he had control, that he knew exactly how to make me feel vulnerable and desired at the same time. When we got to his apartment, everything intensified. We got out of the car and went inside. He poured two glasses of tequila, knowing it relaxed me. Then he sat in an armchair, with that calm demeanor of his, and asked me to stand in front of him so he could look at me. I felt exposed, but there was something in his gaze, the way he took me in, that made me feel incredibly sensual. My body responded to him without me being able to stop it.

Then, with that firm voice that gave me goosebumps, he asked me to take off my clothes, slowly, while he watched. I can’t explain it, but that moment brought out a part of me I didn’t know existed: a submissive woman, eager to please him. I loved it. Each piece of clothing that fell to the floor was like shedding any resistance. When I was completely naked, he asked me to sit on his lap. His hands began to explore my body, slow, gentle, as if memorizing every curve. Then he told me to sit facing him, straddling his legs. He sipped his whiskey on the rocks while kissing my breasts with a slowness that drove me wild. His hands moved from the tips of my fingers up to my knees, touching my backside, my back, pulling me closer with a tenderness that contrasted with his control.

Suddenly, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to his bedroom. He threw me onto the bed, and there, among the sheets, I felt completely his. He, still in his impeccable suit, looked at me like I was the only person in the world. I undressed him slowly, savoring every moment, and when I gave him oral sex, I felt the power he had over me blend with my own desire. Then, with a swift motion, he turned me around, kissing my back as he pressed his body against mine. That night was a storm of passion. He made love to me with a sweetness that disarmed me, but also with an intensity that made me lose track of time. Every caress, every kiss, every movement of his took me further, until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.

(Please enjoy the song, it is very sensual and has a lot to do with the story I tell you next.)

I’m Natalia, and every day with him is like a spark that sets my world ablaze. That afternoon, the sun was just beginning to set when I left the university, exhausted but eager. There he was, waiting for me, leaning against his red truck, gleaming under the evening light. At sixty, his presence was commanding: strong, with a stance that radiated confidence, and those large hands that always made me feel small and protected. He looked at me with those deep eyes, a mischievous smile playing on his face, and my heart skipped a beat.

I approached, and before I could say anything, he wrapped me in his hairy arm, pulling me close. His lips met mine in a sweet, warm kiss that made me close my eyes and forget the world. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day, my love,” he whispered, his deep voice resonating in my chest. He asked where I wanted to go, and without hesitation, I said his apartment. I wanted a moment just for us, some wine, soft conversation… or maybe something more.

I climbed into the truck, and as I sat beside him, I felt the warmth of his body. While he drove, his right hand sought my legs, caressing them with a mix of gentleness and firmness that made me sigh. I took his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers, and looked at him. He returned my gaze, and at a stoplight, he leaned in to kiss me again. This time, the kiss was deeper, his tongue playing with mine, exploring with a passion that made me tremble. Then, his lips trailed down my neck, leaving a path of warmth that took my breath away.

Suddenly, his hand slipped between my legs, deftly unbuttoning my tight jeans. I felt the graze of his fingers over my black lace thong, the one he’d given me and always said drove him wild. His hand ventured further, playing with a precision that drew a soft moan from me. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure of his touch, parting my legs to give him more room. My body responded to every movement, my breathing growing heavier.

With my left hand, I reached for his pants, feeling the fabric of his suit, that elegance I found so captivating. He always wore a tie, and I loved how he looked—so powerful, so sexy. I adored the game between us, the dynamic where I was his submissive, his sugar baby, and he was my protector, my guide. Suddenly, with a swift, firm motion, he pulled me onto his lap. My jeans slid down to my knees, and his hands explored my body relentlessly. He slipped one hand under my blouse, playing with my breasts, while the other continued between my legs. The scratch of his three-day beard against my skin as he kissed my arms, my neck, my breasts, was a delicious torment. Every touch, every kiss, made me tremble.