Pink Nails & Silver Gods
My Forbidden Sex Diary (18 to 26 Years Old)
Sex Confessions meet Erotic Psychological Drama
A Cock-Worshipping Plaything’s Chronicle of Submission
You shouldn’t be reading this.
But since you’ve already cracked open my journal, let’s skip the shame. I’m Delisha Keane — 26 (yes, I know, I’m getting old), blonde, and very good at being bad. I believe.
For the last few years, I’ve shared MY SEX DIARIES with you. However, I’m evolving as a writer and a sex object. In this 2025 journal, I adopt a new style. I keep on sharing with you what old men did with my young female flesh last weekend. But I also reflect on everything I’ve done since I realized a long time ago (18+) that being a sex object was my natural role as a young woman.
My body isn’t mine, but a gift for men who’ve earned the right to use it – until one of them claims ownership of it for marriage and reproductive duties.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t a victim’s diary. It’s a celebration. A manifesto. A young woman’s ode to dangling tits, aching knees, and the sacred ritual of worshipping old cocks before society decides I’m expired.
You’ll read about my nipples in the snow to entertain cock-carrying beasts, weekends as a yacht’s cum bucket, evenings as a nude waitress for televised sport events, weeks as a nude pet on all fours with a collar and a leash, weekends as a free-use fuck doll, and that time I became a CEO’s office ‘motivational award’ — all while keeping my professional, conservative social media clients blissfully ignorant – hence the pen name!
Critics will call it degradation. I call it biology. Why waste pretty years pretending we’re not built to be stared at, spread open, and passed around? If you’ve ever fantasized about being seen — truly seen, naked and unapologetic — let my journal be your guilty mirror.
These are unfiltered confessions from a semen-swallowing sex object. You’ve been warned!
Objectified Table of Contents
Sex Confessions meet Erotic Psychological Drama
- Nude Female Flesh as Art: My Night as an Exhibition Piece
- Pink-Slit Aquarium: Aged Eyes Feed on Tight Twat Bait
- Wrinkled Eyes Feeding Upon Tight Young Meat at a Moonlit Buffet
- Free-Use Livestock: Weekend Donations of Dangling Tits and Willing Holes
- My Friend’s Gift to Her Dad on Father’s Day: My Nude Body For Him & His Buddies To Use on a Deep-Sea Fishing Trip
- Young Female Flesh Marinated in Fish Juice & Old Men’s Amusement for Father’s Day
- No Orgasms for Me Because I’m a Sex Object
- [Coming Next] No Panties & No Bras: Dresses Are Just Cock-Access Highways
- Scripture, Pussies & Swaying Tits: A Young Cum Sleeve Discovers God Loves Our Objectification
- Debutante Balls, The Buccaneers & Today’s Meat Markets for Young Female Flesh
- I will post more, soon – maybe this week. Give me a spanking if you are impatient!
Teasers:
“By the time the first guests arrived, I had settled into my role completely. My breathing had slowed, my mind quieted. I became what they needed me to be: not a nude young woman, but an erotic art object. A living sculpture with a beating heart and warm flesh, but no more human than the marble busts in the adjacent room.”
“The blinds gathered dust, unused and unnecessary. I wanted to see the ocean, the palm trees, the endless parade of humanity passing by my glass walls. That was my explanation when some of my neighbors, all retirees, asked. The truth, which I kept locked behind my teeth, was that I didn’t just accept being seen — I craved it. Each pair of eyes that lingered on my naked female curves fed something primal in me, a hunger that only grew with feeding.”
“The dual purpose becomes impossible to ignore. These same pussies that give men such immediate pleasure will carry their babies months later. These same tits that bounce so appealingly for their visual entertainment will feed those babies for years to come. Our bodies exist in a perfect cycle – first as shared sex objects for male pleasure, then as owned baby factories to satisfy their need for reproduction, then as milk producers for nourishment of their babies. When I’m naked on all fours, I feel the weight of this biological destiny in every cell.”
“Last night it happened again. I woke suddenly around 2 AM, that sixth sense tingling at the base of my skull. My nightlight cast a soft amber glow across my naked body, illuminating me against the darkness of my bedroom. I kept my breathing steady, feigning sleep while opening my eyes just enough to see through my lashes. A figure stood at my bedroom window — tall, male, stillness suggesting complete absorption in what he was viewing.”
But, wait! Is there a moral to this story?
Well, do you want one? If so, it could sound like this.
This journal isn’t about shame or rebellion — it’s about truth. My truth. Society whispers that my choices degrade me, but I see liberation in embracing my nature. Young women are meant to be admired, desired, used. We’re the antidote to a world that strips men of their primal power and emasculates them. Every shiver in the cold, every slap that stings, every cock I swallow — it’s therapy. For them. For us.
I’ve learned that pleasure isn’t mine to take. Orgasm? A distraction. My value lies in the hunger I stoke, the peace I gift men who’ve been told their dominance is obsolete. Let them leash me, cage me, share me, paint me as art — I’m fulfilling a purpose older than feminism.
Some call it exploitation. I call it balance. When a man’s hands tremble as he grips my hair, when his breath hitches watching me kneel, he’s not a predator. He’s human. And I? I’m the mirror reflecting what he’s feared lost.
Judge me if you must. But ask yourself: Who’s freer — the woman shackled by empowerment, or the one who chooses her chains? Naked on all fours with a collar and a leash is the most natural position for me nowadays.
Aging will steal this power. So I burn bright now — a spark to reignite their fire. Let my journal be a testament: there’s harmony in surrender, strength in service. And if that unsettles you… perhaps you fear the rawest parts of yourself.
~Delisha 💋
Still looking?
Check my other published books while you’re here, please!
…to stay in touch with little ol’ me and find out when I publish more sex confessions as a young woman mainly used & shared by old men and displayed in the nude as art decoration.