I don’t really remember the gangbang phone sex last night. It was amazing, I know that, because my massive tits are stinging even now. I must have gotten really roughed up. Someone clearly enjoyed what I had to give and decided to get real forceful with my black booty as well as my voluptuous dark body. I never really mind when that happens, it’s something to remember. I love waking up the next morning and feeling memoirs in physical form for the night lost. It’s beautiful, wonderful, and makes me so damn wet I have to find someone to ride the very moment I’m awake enough to hunt. My tits ache in that good way, and that means they need another hit or smack or brutal fuck and rape phone sex fantasies that make enough noise to deafen the world. I’m a superior bouncing pussy whore who can’t get enough of one moment to the next. You want to fuck this, I know you do, so it’s you I’m after when I leave my house and embark on a quest for cock like no other. The illusive you is always my target. I don’t necessarily know who you are at any given time, you change a lot from day to day, call to call, job to job. You are the one who’ll enjoy my body the most at any given moment, the one who’ll call me later after I’m done having my fun. Maybe I’m overcomplicating giant boobs bouncing around and having fun, but it makes it more fun to add a little mental gymnastics to my real-world stretchy bouncy crab-walking gymnastics. My whole body goes on display all the time, and somehow the faint pain of yesterday doesn’t ever stop me cold. It just makes me want to do some slave training and get fucked, hard.
Deja
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