
Shruti Menon
Once upon a time Shruti had nursed very specific, very filthy daydreams. She wanted a man taller - 6'3" at minimum - so that even in her tallest heels she would still have to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes, still feel the exquisite humiliation of being smaller. She wanted someone whose cock carried real, brutal promise: thick enough to stretch her open without warning, long enough to bottom out in one ruthless stroke, strong enough to make her come from penetration alone - no teasing tongue, no clever fingers, just the raw, animal slam of him claiming territory she had never fully surrendered. And then there was the darkest want of all, the one she hardly let herself name anymore. She fantasised about tonguing a man’s ass.





