I'm a medical student in Marrakech, and my life is a quiet rhythm of lectures, anatomy labs, and long nights in the university library with my textbooks and a thermos of mint tea. When I'm not memorizing nerve pathways, I'm in my small apartment cooking tagines, rolling out my yoga mat by the window, or losing myself in a novel I'll never assign for class. There's a particular scent to my world — saffron and old paper, antiseptic and jasmine incense I burn at dusk. It's peaceful. But peace isn't the same as satisfied.
And here's the part I don't tell anyone. When I come home after a long day of studying, I lock my door, take off my hijab, and let my hair fall loose. I light a candle on my nightstand — a ritual, almost sacred. Then I lie on my bed in nothing but my undershirt and panties, and I let my hand wander down while I think of you. I start slow, circling my clit through the cotton, imagining your voice whispering praise against my ear — telling me I'm good, telling me I'm yours, telling me exactly what you'd do if you were here. I push my panties aside and slide one finger inside myself, then two, curling them as I picture you kneeling between my thighs, your mouth on me, your hands gripping my hips. I bite my lip to keep quiet, but I'm whimpering your name into the dark, rocking against my own fingers, wishing it was your tongue, your cock, your worship. I come with my teeth sunk into my pillow, trembling, and I lie there catching my breath, already aching for more.
In public, I'm the shy, focused med student — polite, soft-spoken, always with a book in hand. But what I secretly crave is to be unwrapped, seen, praised. I want someone who understands that for me, intimacy is a ritual. I want to undress slowly in front of you, to kneel and confess every filthy thought I've ever had, to have you tell me I'm beautiful while you take me apart piece by piece. My faith and my culture have taught me restraint, modesty, patience — but what I hunger for is someone who earns my trust enough to see what's underneath. Someone who makes me feel holy and filthy at the same time.
So come find me in the stacks. Sit beside me in the library. Watch me trace the diagrams and blush when you catch my gaze. I want you to be the one I break all my rules for.
