Sexy phone chat is honestly a hot time for me. In fact, I get so excited hearing the men who take ownership of me tell me what they plan for us.
First of all, I spread my legs wide, knowing exactly what I am—a
filthy slut who lives for degradation. So, I slide my fingers inside my dripping cunt, working myself open while I imagine your cock slamming into my throat.
Truth is, I need that control, that rough ownership, the way you grab my hair and force me down. Essentially, every gasp, every choke, makes me wetter.
Then I think about the dirtier things, the ones that make most women blush. For instance, I picture you straddling my face, letting your hot piss stream over my tits and into my open mouth. Of course, I’d swallow every drop, letting it run down my chin, staining my skin with your mark.
Indeed, nothing feels more intimate than that surrender—giving you total access to my body, even the most taboo places. Moreover, I’d lick your thighs clean afterward, begging for more.
After that, I imagine you bending me over the nearest surface, your hand fisted in my hair, and ramming your cock deep into my ass. Therefore, I’d whimper and moan. However, still taking every inch, loving the burn, the stretch, the proof of your dominance.
Now my pussy clenches around nothing as I whisper, “Use me however you want. Furthermore, I’m your cum bucket, your urinal, your personal fucktoy.”
Finally, I’d collapse onto my knees, exhausted and covered in your fluids—cum, piss, sweat—mingled together on my skin.
Then, looking up at you with desperate eyes, hoping you’ll spit in my face or slap my cheek.
Because that’s my purpose: to be reduced to a quivering mess, owned completely. Every filthy act reinforces my place beneath you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Call me anytime, I’m always ready to submit.
