Innocent gf having her first sex with dark humour bf.

Confessor:- am a virgin girl with thick thighs curves and great body.(35-31-37) And my bf likes all this and he has a dark humour and likes dark romance as hell an I am too new to all this actually I don't even know what dark romance is bt reading about all this now n getting to know it bt he don't know all this. So I want a plot on dark humour bf with his innocent gf doing all the dark things n girl having her first sex.

My Writing:- It was 6 AM.

Your phone rang, but half-asleep, you silenced it, thinking it was your alarm.

Just seconds later, it rang again.

Annoyed, you hung up once more, assuming it was a glitch in your alarm app.

When it rang the third time, you finally opened your eyes in frustration…

But that frustration melted into a warm smile the moment you saw his name flashing on the screen.

Your heart skipped a beat.

It was a call from him—your boyfriend.

You picked up, your voice still sleepy.

“Good morning, my baby girl… and a very, very happy birthday,” he said in that deep, husky morning voice that always made you weak.

His voice alone made you smile... and made you instantly wet under the sheets.

“Thank you, baby… in all this chaos, I’d honestly forgotten. But you remembered. I’m so glad,” you whispered, your voice heavy with sleep.

“How can I forget, hmm?” he replied.

“Be ready at sharp 7 PM, we’re going out for dinner. And during the day, you’ll get a parcel. Let me know when it reaches, okay?”

He continued, his tone laced with tease:

“Freshen up, have breakfast, and make sure you get enough sleep during the day…

Because tonight, my love, is going to be a very long night for you.”

And with that, he ended the call.

“Bye bye, my love. Take care.”

The day passed in a blur of anticipation.

At noon, the doorbell rang.

A sleek black box waited outside.

You brought it inside, tore it open—and your breath caught.

Inside was a stunning black satin dress—short, backless, delicate like sin—and beneath it, a deep red lace lingerie set, so sheer you could see through it in one glance.

There was a note:

“Wear this. No bra under the dress. No panties either. 7 PM. I’ll be waiting. Don’t make me come drag you.”

Your cheeks flushed. Your thighs pressed together.

I took a deep breath and obeyed.

At 7 PM sharp, you stepped out.

He was there—leaning on his car, looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

“You followed instructions?” he asked, walking to me slowly.

“Yes…” you whispered.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his breath warm.

“Good girl.”

The car ride was supposed to be just a drive to dinner.

But with him, nothing was ever just that.

You sat beside him, legs crossed tightly, the black satin of your dress clinging to your thighs. The seat was cool against your bare skin—no panties, just like he had ordered.

His right hand was casually resting on the steering wheel, while his left slowly slid across the leather seat… and landed on your thigh.

At first, it was just a warm palm. Soft. Lazy. Almost innocent.

But then… the pressure changed.

He started rubbing slow, slow circles on your inner thigh.

Not saying a word. Not looking at you.

Just driving. And teasing.

Your breath caught. You shifted slightly in your seat, biting your bottom lip, trying to focus on the road ahead.

But his hand moved higher.

Each pass of his fingers was firmer now.

Not enough to satisfy. Just enough to torment.

A tiny whimper escaped your lips, and he heard it. Of course, he did.

He didn’t turn to you. Didn’t ask if you were okay.

He just smirked—that cruel, knowing smirk—and squeezed.

You clenched your thighs instinctively, trying to stop him. It was getting too much.

Your body was on fire.

Your core pulsed with desperate heat.

But then he gave you a single look—a sharp, warning death-stare that made your breath freeze in your throat.

And without a word, you obeyed.

You parted your thighs slowly, trembling under his gaze.

“Good girl,” he whispered under his breath, almost too low to hear.

But you heard it.

And your pussy throbbed at that praise.

His fingers tightened around your thigh again. Possessive. Controlling.

He slid his fingers further up and paused…

Right at the wettest spot.

You gasped as he felt how soaked you already were.

“You’re dripping,” he murmured darkly. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

He brought his fingers up to his lips, eyes still on the road, and licked them slowly.

“Mmm... You taste like heaven, my love. I swear, I feel honored that tonight… I get to eat you for dessert.”

Your cheeks burned. Embarrassment and excitement mixed like fire and honey in your veins.

You looked away, but he gripped your thigh again—this time with purpose.

“You don’t hide from me,” he said. “Not when you’re this wet for me. Not when your body’s begging.”

You squirmed in your seat, breathing heavily, thighs quivering.

The way he talked. The way he touched.

You were already unraveling, and he hadn’t even kissed you yet.

The rest of the drive, he kept his hand there. Not moving. Not teasing anymore.

Just holding you—his fingers firm on your bare, slick thigh, reminding you who you belonged to.

When the car pulled into the restaurant’s valet, he turned to you with that charming smile—the one everyone else loved.

But only you knew the dark dominance behind it.

He stepped out and walked around to your side, opened the door, and offered his hand.

“Come out, my princess,” he said softly.

You took his hand and stepped out, still trying to regain control over your trembling legs.

He guided you forward, palm on your lower back.

But with every few steps… he squeezed your ass.

Not subtle. Not gentle.

Just enough for you to gasp and glance around—worried someone might see.

He leaned in, whispering low into your ear,

“You walk like that again, I’ll bend you over dinner table before we even order.”

Your legs buckled slightly.

And dinner hadn’t even started yet.

The restaurant's glass doors slid open with a soft whoosh as he pulled you inside, his hand still firmly gripping your waist. The warmth from inside brushed against your skin, but all you could feel was the electric heat of his gaze pinned on you like you were something precious — and utterly his.

His fingers dug slightly into your hip as he guided you through the softly lit corridor, every step measured, deliberate. The hum of conversations and clinking glasses faded to background noise, swallowed whole by the way your heart hammered inside your chest.

“Stay close,” he murmured low, his breath grazing your ear, a hint of a smirk in his voice. “Don’t even think about looking anywhere else.”

You swallowed, heat blooming deep in your belly. His hand slid lower, tracing slow circles on your thigh under the table skirt as he pulled you toward your reserved booth. You felt the weight of his stare — possessive, unwavering.

The waiter approached, but before he could speak, his voice cut through the air, calm and commanding.

“Table for two. Right here.”

He pulled out the chair for you, and as you settled into it, his hand lingered on your shoulder, grounding you, reminding you silently who was in charge tonight.

No words needed — the unspoken promise hung thick between you.

Dinner was beautiful, candlelit. But under the table? His hand never left your thigh.

He slid higher, higher… and smirked when he found your skin bare.

“No panties. Just like I asked.”

He whispered dirty things in your ear—about what he’ll do when we get back, how long he’ll keep me begging tonight.

The Bill & Departure

He signs the cheque without breaking eye contact, then stands, offering a hand. When you slide out of the booth, you feel a gentle but uncompromising pressure at the small of your back guiding you to the exit.

Outside, evening air wraps cool around your heated skin. The valet brings his car; he opens the passenger door but doesn’t let you in immediately. Instead, he leans close, voice a low murmur only you can hear. “Good girl. You followed every silent rule.”

Your breath hitches. “Reward comes later. Get in.” he continued while his thumb brushing your lower lip.

The Drive — Tease and Control

Streetlights flicker past the windshield, casting gold shadows across your thighs. The city blurs around you, but all you feel is his hand—low on your leg, fingers creeping higher with every mile. His other hand stays on the wheel, but his attention? Entirely on you.

Your breath hitches as his palm slides under your dress, slow and deliberate.

softly, commandingly: “Put your legs up. On the dashboard. Wide.”

Your eyes widen. “But—”

Before you can finish, he leans in, lips crashing into yours in a possessive, breathtaking kiss. His voice drips into your mouth like liquid heat: “Don’t make me repeat myself. Be a good girl.”

Your hands tremble as you obey, lifting your legs onto the dashboard. The dress slides up your thighs, baring your heat to the cool air and his burning gaze. You’ve never felt more exposed... or more alive.

His dominance wraps around you like a second skin. You’re trembling—not from fear, but anticipation.

He glances down, eyes darkening.

“Look at that... already dripping.” a husky voice go through your head.

He presses his palm between your thighs—not rough, but with intention. The heat of it makes your spine arch.

He doesn’t need to do more. Just the pressure, the promise, the way he owns your reactions — that’s enough to make your legs quiver.

“You’re soaking my car, baby. And we’re not even at my flat yet.” he smirked 

Your chest rises and falls in sharp gasps. You bite your lip, your body clenching with need, aching for more.

“Daddy... I—” A soft moan comes out as you can't handle it more.

“Shh. You’ll take what I give. And right now, I’m enjoying this view too much.” he whispered while rubbing your thighs gently.

He slides his fingers lazily along your inner thigh, just barely brushing your sensitive skin—enough to make you squirm, but never enough to satisfy. Your hips jerk instinctively, chasing more friction. His smile turns wicked.

“Desperate already? Such a needy little thing. But I warned you... tonight is all mine. I’ll play, I’ll taste, I’ll tease—till you’re crying under me.” he smirked while adding two fingers in you.

You whimper, breathless.

Every second becomes a delicious torment. Every light you pass under catches the shimmer of want between your thighs.

"Ohhh fuck me daddy" a loud moan comes out as you squirted all over. The dashboard, front seat, gear box everything is leaking bcz of your cum.

"Thats like my good girl. Now my car will smells like you. This is what i wanted so i can never forget you not even my dreams sweetheart." He kissed your neck while moving his fingers more deep.

Then suddenly—his hand’s gone.

You gasp, looking at him in protest.

“Keep your legs right there. Don’t. Move.” he warned you as you tried to put them down.

You nod quickly. You’d do anything if he just touches you again.

But he doesn't. He turns up the music, hums along, casually steering like your exposed body isn't a ticking time bomb beside him.

He’s tormenting you with patience. And you’re falling apart from the waiting.

Arrival at His Flat

The car finally slows. He pulls into the building’s basement garage and kills the engine. The silence is deafening.

Still, you keep your legs on the dash—just as he ordered.

He unbuckles slowly, unhurried. Gets out. Then opens your side, leans down, and his voice drops an octave.

"Now that’s my good girl.” he smirked again and that making you more frustrated.

Before you can say a word, he scoops you into his arms, bridal-style, lips crashing into yours. It’s hungry, claiming, messy. You wrap your arms around his neck as he walks toward the lift, not breaking the kiss once.

Every step echoes in the quiet basement.

“You followed orders so well tonight. You know what that means, right?” he murmured against your lips.

You nod, dazed.

“It means I’m going to ruin you the moment that door closes. Slowly. Deeply. Repeatedly.”

The lift dings. The doors slide open.

He steps inside, lips brushing your ear.

“You’ll forget how to walk when I’m done.” he whispered softly

The doors slide shut.

And the night has just begun.

As soon as you reached in the room.

The door slammed shut behind you. Before you could take a breath, he spun you around and pinned you to the wall — hard enough to make the picture frame rattle.

His hand gripped both your wrists, shoving them above your head, locking them in place with just one hand. The other?

The other slid under your thigh, hooked it up onto his waist — spreading you open, making you feel the pressure of his body between your legs.

You gasped, but he was already there — lips ghosting down your throat, his breath hot, ragged, starving. He inhaled deeply, his nose pressed into the crook of your neck like he wanted to memorize your scent.

“This—” he growled against your skin, “—this is mine.”

His hand moved down your lifted thigh, fingers rough and hungry. He squeezed hard enough to leave prints. Then his fingertips pinched — just a little — just enough to make you gasp.

Pain. Pleasure. Possession. It all blurred.

“So soft,” he muttered, his voice thick with need. “So warm. So fucking helpless under me.”

You tried to speak—tried to beg—but your voice came out as a whimper. That only made him smile darker.

He released your wrists for just a second—just long enough to rip your dress down, baring you to the room, to him, to the heat between you. His hand returned immediately, grabbing your wrists again and slamming them back above your head.

“You don’t get to touch me yet,” he growled. “Not until I’ve ruined every inch of you.”

You trembled beneath his grip.

His hand slid from your thigh to your waist to your chest — claiming, squeezing, teasing — and then back again, tracing every inch like you were a puzzle he already knew how to solve. He was everywhere at once.

He dropped to his knees suddenly, never breaking eye contact. And even though your leg trembled on his shoulder, he held it in place, strong, immovable.

He wasn’t worshipping you. He was devouring you.

“Look at you,” he murmured against your skin, kissing and biting your inner thigh. “Already shaking. And I’ve barely even started.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore. Your hips bucked forward. Your hands clenched uselessly above you. Your breath came out in broken gasps.

“That’s it,” he growled. “Give me everything. Let it go. Fall apart.”

And you did.

He stood suddenly and swept you into his arms, tossing you down onto the bed like a doll.

“On your stomach. Now.”

You flipped instantly, hands flat, body trembling. You didn’t even wait for his command — you offered yourself. Spread and helpless and desperate.

He chuckled low behind you.

“Good girl.”

He climbed over you, his hands dragging slowly down your spine, pressing your body harder into the mattress. He kissed your shoulder softly. Then bit it, sharp.

Your fingers curled into the sheets.

He gripped your hips — tight — dragging you back against him with one powerful pull. His breath hit your ear.

“I want to hear you break,” he said. “I want to hear you cry my name while I ruin you.”

And he did.

He gave you no rhythm, no warning, just overwhelming, crashing possession. He used you until you forgot your name — until the only thing you remembered was the sound of his voice and the feel of his hands and the way your body obeyed him without question.

You screamed. Cried. Moaned. Shook.

And he didn’t stop.

Not until you completely shattered beneath him.

When it was over, you collapsed into the sheets, body limp, tears still clinging to your lashes — not from pain, but from being utterly emptied.

He didn’t leave you.

He gathered you gently into his arms, pressing your head to his chest. His heart thudded strong under your cheek.

His fingers, once punishing, now stroked your hair softly.

“You did so well,” he whispered. “So, so well.”

You closed your eyes, breath slowing.

He kissed your forehead.

Then your cheeks.

Then your lips — slow, soft, tender.

“Shhh. I’ve got you now.”

You melted into him, warm and safe and full of everything you didn’t know you needed.

“My good girl,” he whispered, wrapping a blanket around both of you. “Rest. I’ll take care of everything now.”

And with your legs tangled in his, your body wrapped in his scent, your heart surrendered completely...