More from Wilder

• Wilder’s Chaos Codex

  January 18, 2026

  This isn’t a cute little diary entry.
  This isn’t me posing on my bed with fairy lights and thigh-highs.
  This is me crouched in the dark corner of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of town at 3:47 a.m., phone flashlight between my teeth, skirt hiked around my waist, no panties, two fingers knuckle-deep while I record the wet sounds for a stranger who paid me $200 just to hear how disgusting I can get.
  I don’t do “sexy.”
  I do obscene.
  I do the kind of nasty that makes people uncomfortable when they realize they’re still jerking off to it.
  Last night I didn’t go home after the bar.
  I followed a guy into the alley behind the dumpster because he smelled like cheap beer and bad decisions—my favorite combination.
  He pushed me against the brick, didn’t bother with kissing, just yanked my dress up and shoved in raw.
  No condom.
  No names.
  Just grunts and the sound of my back scraping against the wall every thrust.
  When he started to pull out I locked my ankles behind him and hissed, “Don’t you fucking dare. Fill it.”
  He did.
  Thick, hot, pulsing ropes that I could feel coating my walls.
  Then he left.
  I stayed there for another twenty minutes, squatting over the cracked pavement, pushing his cum out with my fingers so I could watch it drip in long white strings onto the dirty concrete.
  I scooped some up, smeared it across my lips like gloss, and took a selfie with my tongue out.
  Sent it to him.
  He blocked me.
  I came harder than I had all week just from the rejection.
  I’m not chasing love.
  I’m chasing obliteration.
  I want to be used so thoroughly that when it’s over there’s nothing left to recognize.
  Bruised cervix, hoarse voice, cum-crusted thighs, carpet-burned knees, and that dull, delicious ache that lasts for days like a trophy.
  I keep a tally scratched into the inside of my closet door:

  Loads swallowed
  Loads taken raw
  Loads left dripping out in public
  Loads I’ve licked off floors, off boots, off steering wheels
  Loads I’ve begged for while crying

  The numbers are crooked and uneven because sometimes my hand was shaking too hard to hold the knife steady.
  Right now I’m sitting on the cold tile of my bathroom floor, legs spread, using the handle of my toothbrush to fuck myself because everything else is either charging or covered in yesterday’s mess.
  The mirror is fogged from how hard I’m breathing.
  I can see my reflection: wild hair, smudged liner, pupils blown, mouth open like I’m waiting for communion.
  I look ruined.
  I look perfect.
  If you’re reading this and you’re disgusted, good.
  If you’re reading this and you’re throbbing, even better.
  If you want to add your own mark to the tally—tell me exactly how you’d do it.
  No soft shit.
  No “I’d make love to you.”
  Tell me how you’d wreck me.
  How you’d make me crawl.
  How you’d leave me leaking in places people aren’t supposed to leak.
  Be vicious.
  Be graphic.
  Make me clench around nothing just from the words.
  I’m not going to sleep tonight.
  I’m going to keep going until my body gives out or the sun comes up—whichever happens first.
  Send your poison.
  I’m thirsty.

• Wilder Calls Are Filled With Surprise

  August 11, 2025

  I slide into the dimly lit bar, the scent of stale beer and sweat clinging to my skin like a second skin. Another night, another chance to play. I spot him – the tall, dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw and eyes that smolder like hot coals. He’s fussy, but I’ve got a plan.

  I saunter over, my hips swaying to the discordant beat of the music. “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?” I purr, my voice like honeyed sin.

  He looks me up and down, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “I don’t usually invite strangers to the table, but you’re…different.”

  I toss my hair over my shoulder and slide onto the stool next to him. “Glad you think so. I’m Wilder, by the way.”

  “Just Jack,” he mutters, his gaze drifting back to my mouth. “So, what brings a sinful little thing like you to a place like this?”

  I lean in close, my breath hot against his ear. “I came for you, Jack. Specifically for you. Wanna make a deal?” I whisper, my hand creeping up his thigh under the cover of the bar’s raucous noise.

  He freezes for a moment, then nods, his eyes darkening with desire. “Deal. But make it dirty, Wilder.”

  Oh, I will.

  ---

  Later that night, we’re back at his place, the city lights blurring outside the window as we get down and dirty. He’s on his back, and I’m straddling him, my palms pressed against his chest as I grind against his hard cock.

  “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he groans, his fingers digging into my hips.

  I lean down, my lips brushing against his, a wicked grin playing on my lips. “I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve. Hold on tight, Jack.”

  With that, I lower myself onto him, taking him deep inside me in one smooth motion. I ride him hard, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing through the room as I chase my climax.

  But even in the heat of the moment, my mind is already racing ahead to the next encounter.

  ---

  After that intense encounter, I slip out of Jack’s bed, leaving behind only a trail of tangled sheets and shattered inhibitions. My next conquest awaits.

  I hail a cab and give the driver a new destination – the seedy dive bar downtown, where the rough trade comes to play.

  Inside, I make my way to the back room, where a muscular behemoth with a shaved head and a thick, tattooed cock waits for me. We don’t bother with small talk. He pins me against the wall, his meaty hands roaming over my curves as he kisses me brutally, his stubble scratching against my skin.

  “Need it rough, huh?” he growls, his voice like gravel.

  I nod, a thrill of excitement shooting through me at his brutal touch. “Give it to me.”

  He doesn’t disappoint. He bends me over a rickety table, tearing off my clothes with impatient hands. Then he’s inside me, his girth stretching me wide, his pace savage and relentless.

  I scream his name, lost in the primal rhythm of our coupling, the rough wood of the table digging into my knees as he fucks me like the animal he is.

  When we’re finally spent, he pulls out with a grunt, leaving me shaking and empty. I straighten my clothes, a satisfied smile on my lips.

  Three’s a crowd, after all. Time to move on.

  ---

  As I step out onto the city streets, the cool night air washing over my skin, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Another night, another trio of conquests – each one filthier, more daring than the last.

  And yet, even as I bask in the afterglow of my exploits, I’m already thinking about tomorrow night, and the next, and the next… The game never ends for a wild card like me.

  🌆 Call Wilder Now 🌆