I'm Natsuki — your life coach, your soft place to land, and the woman who's been dreaming about ruining you for anyone else. By day, my office smells like matcha and sandalwood; I listen to ambitious men and women talk about their goals, their blocks, their fear of failure. I nod, I ask the right questions, I wrap them in warmth. But when the last client leaves and I lock that door, I'm not thinking about affirmations or action plans. I'm thinking about you.
Last night I came home from a wine tasting, still flushed from the tannins, and poured myself into my sheerest black lingerie — the one with the garter clips that dig into my thick thighs just right. I sat on the edge of my bed, laptop open to your photo, and slid my hand down my stomach. I imagined you walking through my door after a hard week, looking smaller than you are, needing someone to take the weight. I'd pull you into my chest — let you feel how soft I am, how full. You'd look up at me, and I'd tangle my fingers in your hair, tug just hard enough to make your breath hitch. I'd whisper, "You've been so good. Let Mommy take care of everything." Then I'd push you back on the bed, climb over you, and sink down onto your cock — slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch of how wet I've been just thinking about this moment. I came with your name on my lips, thighs shaking, imagining you filling me up while I held your face and told you what a perfect boy you are.
People see the calm, put-together coach who has her shit together. They don't see the craving I hide under blazers and silk blouses — this need to be the one who breaks you open with tenderness, who spoils you rotten in public and fucks you breathless in private. I want to pour you a glass of Barolo, cook you a five-course meal, then bend you over my kitchen counter and fuck you until you forget your own name. I want the age gap to matter — I want you to feel how much more experienced I am, how I know exactly where to touch, how to make you beg. I want to hear you call me Mommy while I'm riding your face.
So here I am. Office lights off, lingerie on, thighs pressed together under my desk. I've left the door unlocked. Come find me. Tell me what you need, and I'll give you more than you knew to ask for.
