The host of the Dear Nikky podcast shares her favorite fan-submitted stories about giving into their desires.
By Dear Nikky for ASN Lifestyle Magazine
Do you remember the first time you were brave and took the plunge into your desires? I do. It still gives me a chill down my spine to remember how I took that leap into something I had been desiring for a while.
What was the thing that made you throw caution to the wind and just go for it? This month I bring you people who took that leap and haven’t looked back.
Could you do any one of these?
Collette’s Happy Ending
I am a 19-year-old girl and a regular listener of your show. I’m also a creative writing major, so I haven’t really left the house much in the past year — everything has been online only. Fortunately, the story I want to tell is not fiction. Before I begin, I just want to say that my Wednesday night ritual always includes drawing a bath and listening to your voice in my headphones while I slowly feel my body and prepare for a self-love session before bed. So, thank you for doing what you do.
Anyway, I live about an hour from home, which is in the Midwest of North America. Some parts of our campus are open, but for the most part, classes are still held online. If I go anywhere, it’s usually to the dining hall on campus. Our town is small and consists mostly of locally owned businesses — much like my hometown. It’s one of those towns where people ask you why you aren’t married by age 21. A nosy, sheltered town where everybody knows everybody, and if you miss church on Sunday morning, for certain something MUST be wrong. Oh, there’s something wrong with me, alright. If they only knew.
My sexual experience up until now is limited. I’ve experimented with some boys and given a few blowjobs, as every small-town girl is apparently required to do… and I also have a few scarce memories of late-night sleepover experimentation with a girl I knew from school. Other than that, I’m still a virgin. I say I’m a virgin because it’s the truth, but physically I have broken myself in and am quite happy with that decision. In the past year, I made a few Amazon orders for myself without having to take the risk of someone at home opening up the package without my consent and finding an 8-inch rubber cock… So really, my confession begins with lunch on campus with my friend Vanessa.
We were talking about everyone and everything, rumors and things like that. We got around to the topic of the town we were in and the businesses that had to close down because of covid. As we’re talking about various businesses, Vanessa brings up a local massage parlor in the area. She says that it is one business that never closed down, and it somehow manages to stay off the radar. She calls it swanky and says that men go there for a “happy ending.” Of course, I laugh it off and act disgusted as she did. But that night and for several weeks after, I thought about that place. Many times, I drove by and saw the door. It’s a small entrance with a tiny sign on the end of a plaza, kind of on the side and towards the back.
The first time I mustered up the courage to go inside was on the way to the grocery store. I had no idea what to expect. It was about 2 in the afternoon. I pulled on the door only to hear a loud bell ring overhead, clearly disrupting the ambiance of the place. It was a dark and sensual feeling inside. A small fountain with the water trickling filled the room, and the aroma of essential oils hit me as soon as I stepped through the door. It reminded me very much of a yoga studio I used to frequent. From behind the counter emerged a woman, who I now know to be 40 years old, named Cara. She was tall and strong-looking, but not physically strong. She was physically fit, but she gave off vibes of a strong personality. She wore a white long-sleeve shirt that hugged her petite frame and black yoga pants. We talked only briefly, as she informed me she was booked up for the day. I was curious about a massage, so I booked one for two days later.
The day of my appointment, which was at 11 o’clock in the morning, I arrived, and she walked me back to a very clean and professional looking massage room. She left and encouraged me to undress as much as I felt comfortable with. I undressed down to my panties and decided to remove my bra. I lay flat on my chest with my back exposed and a blanket covering my butt and my thighs, and there I awaited her return. From then on, it was pretty professional. As she massaged my back, my sides, and my arms, she asked me questions about myself. How old am I, am I a student, what do I study. As for the massage itself, it felt great. Her hands were strong, and she certainly knew what she was doing. Also, it turned me on. A lot. I’m sure that was kind of the point here, but it certainly bears mentioning. About 45 minutes into the massage, that’s when something a bit different began to happen.
I was lost in the bliss of the massage at this point when I heard her say, “okay, I need you to tell me when to stop.” Cara’s hands began to move southward onto the small of my back. The pressure felt nice and comfortable. Then onto the very top of my butt cheeks, a bit under the towel. That felt even better. She stayed there for a little bit. Soon enough, I felt the towel being pulled down, exposing my panty-covered bum to the faded light of the room. She moved on to my buttcheeks, massaging them slowly and sensually over my panties. She began to move south again, massaging the bottom of my buttcheeks and the tops of my thighs with her grip. I felt the pressure of her thumbs begin to creep between my thighs. I slowly opened my legs for her, but I didn’t intend to. I did it without thinking. My body was beginning to invite her.
Up until this moment, I hadn’t really thought about the reality of what I was experiencing. Sure, I was curious, and I wanted her to touch me. I had even fantasized about it in my mind, though I doubted it would even happen. I was happy with a simple massage. Still, I was overcome with a surreal feeling and felt myself become flush in the face. I subtly lifted my hips upward as if to present myself to her. Not much, but enough that she would get the hint if this were what she was actually attempting to do. What the sight must have been from the perspective of a fly on the wall — myself, a petite 19-year-old college student with her butt slightly raised in the air, having her upper thighs massaged by a beautiful woman of 40, ever so slowly inching her way to the deepest region of my own womanhood, teasing me as I physically begged for her touch, her affection, and her validation. And soon enough, she did exactly that.
The first direct touch I felt was her fingers and an open hand applying pressure to my pussy so gently, so warm, and inviting that I couldn’t help but slowly push my weight back onto her hand to increase the pressure between my legs. This was my consent to her. With that, she slowly began to massage my pussy outside of my panties. The circles she made covered from the top of my clitoris to the very base of my opening. I had never felt anything like this, the fully immersive experience of a woman in control, a woman who knew exactly how to touch me in ways that I have never even touched myself. I felt more than comfortable. I felt taken care of. I felt humbled and, eventually, submissive. I felt my body begin to lift my butt higher into the air as her massages began more centered around particular areas of my pussy. First, my labia and my hole. Her circles pressed into me, and I felt a rush of excitement and wetness as she rubbed along my opening. Next, my clitoris, where her massages became more pointed and attentive to my lady bits. This sensation was much more targeted and direct, much more intense, and began to work me up.
At this point, she moved my panties to the side, and I felt my pussy exposed to the open air for the first time. She placed her left hand on the small of my back and pushed down to hold me in place while she began to fondle my pussy with her right hand. She told me I was a good girl and that I was nice and wet for her. I felt proud that she was happy with me. At some point between clitoral stimulation and her slowly working fingers inside of my hole, I felt her insert a few fingers into me, and she rubbed my g-spot in a downward “come here” motion. This is when I began feeling my orgasm begin to build.
She started talking to me at this point, saying my name and asking if it felt good. She kept commenting on how wet I was as she slid her fingers in and out of me. I felt the inside of myself pulsing as if it was crying out for more. I began to reach underneath my chest with my right hand to cup my breast. My nipples were hard as a rock. I began to whimper and moan her name to her. Her finger movements began to work faster and faster as the pressure inside me built up. In my full state of arousal, I found myself rocking back and forth on the table. She instructed me to stick my tongue out as far as I could and keep it there. She massaged me harder and more intently. With my tongue out and my eyes beginning to roll back in my head, I began to really reach the point of no return. “Atta girl,” she said to me in a soft commanding tone. “That’s what I want to see.” I was completely hers in that moment. I was completely dumbstruck with lust and gratification.
With one swift slap of my ass, I was on the precipice of one of the most intense orgasmic trips I have ever gone on. As soon as she smacked my butt, I felt myself unload fully. The surges of orgasm that I felt through my body were felt from my brain all the way down to my toes. I squeezed my breast hard and struggled to keep my tongue out but succeeded. In this position, which I later realized was my own willingness to fully submit to her, my orgasm lasted well over a minute. As my orgasm faded, almost by design, she slowed with an unmatched perfection that only I felt when I masturbated myself.
When I began to come down from this high, she leaned down and gave me a small hug and told me I was a good girl. She excused herself from the room and told me to get dressed and meet her in the lobby. I paid for the massage and left, only to go home and masturbate once again to the recent memory of what just happened. I have seen her three times since.
Thank you for doing your show. I sometimes think about something similar happening if our paths ever crossed. Perhaps someday they will. Until then, I have Cara.
Newbie Hotwife’s First Bull
After talking about it and weighing the pros and cons, we, my husband and I, have decided to dip into uncharted waters for us anyway. What does this mean? It means I’m going to be a hot wife! And I am super excited. For those of you that don’t know, that means I can have sex with others, and my husband is okay with it, as long as I tell him, of course.
So, two nights ago, we fired up my old Tinder account and began the search. Just as before, it wasn’t hard to find my inbox flooded with replies. After chatting with a few, we landed on one that’s a keeper.
I won’t use his real name, but I’ll call him Jake. Jake is hot. That was one of the requirements that my husband asked for. “If you’re gonna fool around, at least make sure the guy is hot.” Well, this one is! I’ll save his details for later when I actually meet him.
We chatted online for a bit, long enough to realize that he was going to be my first, then the convo moved off the app to my phone when I gave him my number. We texted for a while, and then we sexted. My husband was involved with all of it, and it turned us both on. He loved watching me rub myself through my boy shorts while I was sexting with another man. To be honest, I fucking loved it too.
I told Jake that I was married and that my husband was aware, and condoned, even liked the idea of me fucking someone else. Jake didn’t mind, not at all. He said he was just looking for an NSA rendezvous that could develop into more sexual encounters but wasn’t looking for a relationship or exclusivity.
Perfect! What I loved about Jake was he actually asked before he sent a dick pic. I let my husband take various shots of my body, and we exchanged naughty pictures while telling us other the bad things we wanted to do to each other. Just his words got me turned on, which is the point, I suppose.
It wasn’t long before my hand was down my pants rubbing my clit, while sexting with the other hand, all the while my husband was lying in bed beside me, reading and watching. Hearing me moan and reading what Jake wanted to do to me turned my husband on even more than I was. It wasn’t long, his pants were off, and he was stroking himself.
After a few more naughty sext exchanges, pics included, and after Jake told me he couldn’t wait for my lips to be wrapped around his cock, I decided to tease him. I leaned over, put my husband’s cock in my mouth, took a selfie, and hit send with the message, “like this?”
Jake replied with, “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum.” That is the goal, right? I didn’t say that. I simply replied with a smiley face, an eggplant, and water drop emojis. I didn’t stop there. My husband pushed my head back down and said, “Show me what you’re going to do with your date this weekend.”
That made me wetter than I already was. I massaged his balls with one hand while bobbing my head up and down. Well, he was moving my head with his hand. He had a handful of my blonde locks pulling me up and pushing me back down onto his cock. I had never seen him this hard; I could barely fit him into my mouth.
“You have to be better than that if you’re going to be a slutty little hotwife,” my husband moaned as he forced me all the way down on his cock. It gagged me, but I fucking loved it. Meanwhile, my phone kept dinging. It was Jake, obviously. He sent me a short video of him jerking himself to my sexting. Fuck, that was hot.
I returned the favor by recording the blowjob that was being given. Jake replied, “I can’t wait for that to me my cock this weekend.” I replied with, “Me neither, I am fucking aching for you.” His next reply sealed the deal. “Have fun with your husband tonight, and text me later. I can’t wait to meet you Friday night.”
She’s HOT for Her Dad’s Friend
I recently noticed something about myself — I now find myself highly attracted to people I was “afraid” of when I was a kid. For example, I wouldn’t talk to men with long hair or accents when I was a kid, and I thought I hated beards, but now those things get me really wet. I guess this is where my dad’s friend comes in.
My dad went to high school with him, so he’s known him a long time, and he was around from time to time when I was pretty young. He would always try to say hello to me or give me a hug, and I would always hide behind something when I saw him coming, for no reason other than he was a big dude, and I thought I felt “afraid” of him.
I’m in my 20s now, and the other day this friend of my dad’s (almost 40 years older than me) had to give me a ride home. Of course, I’m long over my irrational “fear” by now, and I’ve seen him once in a while over the years but just briefly here and there and usually while I was looking frumpy. Well, this time, I had been out earlier in the day, so I was all done up with hot makeup, including red lips, and a sexy little summer outfit on, a tee bodysuit with super tight, super short shorts, and some sneakers.
When he got to where I was to pick me up, I walked over and said hi, and as he was getting out of his car, he saw me and actually stopped in his tracks and just said, “Wow, you’re pretty.” As we were on the drive back to my place, we had a nice conversation about various innocent things and related to each other on a few things, although I wonder if I detected some mild nervousness from him — hard to tell since this is the only time I’ve ever been alone with him or had that we’ve had this long of a conversation.
As we pulled up to my house, I ended the ride by making him laugh, I soooooo wanted to turn around and see if he was checking my ass out as I walked up my steps, but I didn’t have the guts to.
I’ve been daydreaming about him whenever I have a spare moment and when I’m falling asleep. I have thought about him sexually in the past, but always just briefly and never this seriously. I told my dad I wanted to text him to say thanks. My dad said he doesn’t text, but I could leave him a message on his home phone.
He gave me the ride almost five days ago now, so I’m afraid I kind of missed my window for that, but I desperately want to seduce him. He’s going through a divorce (I already knew that, and he mentioned it in the car), has no kids, semi-retired, so I feel like there’s a good chance I could do it, but there’s also a chance he could pull some sort of bro code maneuver and not want to do anything because of my dad, which would be unfortunate, but I’d still want to at least tease him up.
What should I do to lure him into my web? He and my dad were supposed to get together tonight but had to reschedule. I don’t know when yet, but I’m hoping to find out surreptitiously somehow, so I can stop by my parents’ house while he’s there.
I just want to give him the best deep throat he’s ever had and let him pound me doggy style until he cums down my throat. Is that too much to ask???
I’ve just been so hot and bothered over this the past few days I have a lot to say about it. I’m an avid listener, and I’m dipping my toes into the stupid slut life; I’d love for this to be my next step!
I hope that one of these stories makes you take that leap into something that you have been desiring. Explore a new fetish, kink, or anything else that sets your body on fire.
This article originally appeared in the March 2022 issue of ASN Lifestyle Magazine