Ramade

Here you find some clips we recorded over the past years - my girl likes to party and she knows about my drunkfetish and support it best she can! Take a look of her drunkness - she likes to show it to you....

Ramade's Achievements:

First Login

Novice Creator

Reach 10 video uploads.

Novice Writer

Reach 10 articles.

Junior Creator

Upload a video for the first time.

Junior Writer

Create an article for the first time.

Novice Commentator

Reach 10 comments.

Regular Commentator

Reach 100 comments.

Advanced Commentator

Reach 500 comments.

Show all achievements

Ramade's Blog:

My Girlfriend, the Alcohol, and My Dark Secret

Added 7 days ago.

Every time she goes out and gets dangerously drunk, I secretly love it. I wait at home, rock-hard, following her increasingly chaotic messages and photos as she loses control. When she’s deep in blackout — helpless, stumbling, and completely at the mercy of strangers — I finally step in. What follows is a raw, intense night of watching her get used, bringing her home limp and ruined, and indulging in my darkest fetish: her total loss of control. The smells, the stains, the helplessness — all of it becomes my private trophy. A twisted, highly explicit reallife story and very privat about lust, addiction, and the thrill of pushing boundaries.

The Protocol of a Choreographed Catastrophe

Added 2 months ago.

A dark, twisted plan months in the making unfolds in the neon-lit blur of the club scene. Witness the chilling precision as two architects of ruin choreograph a night of calculated decay, turning one woman's night out into a harrowing game of fetishized helplessness. Explore the bitter depths where trust is a trap, and every shot leads to a breakdown carefully designed for control. A provocative and disturbing dive into a toxic obsession.

Weekend Blackouts: Our Secret Ritual from Years Ago

Added 3 months ago.

A few years back: She partied hard every single weekend—shots, heavy flirting, total loss of control. I often stayed home sober, waiting, because that exact scenario triggers my drunk fetish: when she lets strangers fill her up, gets progressively more wasted, and ends up lying there helpless, warm, and completely limp. She knew about it, loved the blackout rush herself—and especially enjoyed the uninhibited flirting when she went out alone. Our quiet agreement: She goes all out, I watch her and enjoy her drunkness.

The Night It All Went Down

Added 4 months ago.

One wild night some years ago: My girlfriend went out partying hard with her best friend, sending me teasing selfies from the club—rum & cola raised, eyes glassy, tight low jeans with nothing underneath. By 4:30 a.m. I joined her, immediately feeling the warm, damp crotch of her jeans from little piss splatters she hadn’t wiped away. She begged for stronger drinks, downed them in one go, demanded photos, and whispered how much she wanted me to watch her completely lose it. We moved to a late-night pub where she kept gulping almost-pure rum until she could barely stand. The walk home through the snowy park turned chaotic: staggering, puking hard over railings and against trees, collapsing in the snow with her ass up in those filthy, soaked jeans. Back home I left her sprawled on the couch still in the wrecked denim—wet patches gleaming, smell thick with sweat, rum, piss, and vomit—completely passed out, legs spread, mine to admire. Next morning she laughed through the hangover: “You wrecked me… worth it.”

Target of the Night

Added 5 months ago.

It began with a glance over breakfast—a silent promise that she would destroy herself for me tonight. The photos arrived like calculated heartbeats: each one a step closer to the edge, a provocation as the "fair game" of the clubs. No limits, only chaos. Every message fueled a burning jealousy that I first had to learn to master. But in that letting go lay the victory: to watch her fall, knowing that I am the ultimate collector of her wreckage. Hours later, in the cold light of dawn, I found her—defenseless prey in an alleyway, marked by rum, exhaustion, and her own decay. It wasn't love in the traditional sense. It was something far more dangerous. And unforgettable.

Drinking Herself Under

Added 5 months ago.

She never waited for an excuse—any party, any drink was hers to take. Rum, shots, cocktails, anything poured in front of her, she drank without hesitation. Every sip, every glass, she chased the buzz—and I couldn’t look away, fascinated by how completely she lost control.