You want to know what I’m wearing you fucking pervert?
jeans. What? No, I’m not going to tell you what underwear,
asswipe. But it’s functional: cotton,
phone sex call? Fuck you!
here in some kind of fetish fantasy garb, hmm…?
Leather bra… big thigh-high boots for you to lick, maybe? You’d like that, huh?
You’re paying to jerk off, you’re gonna jerk off to me just as I
am. Jeans, check shirt… no make-up. And I’m sitting on a bus, I’m going grocery
shopping. I need to stock up on tampons, cos it’s my period and I’m almost out? And you have… oh I dunno, like
two minutes before it’s my stop and I end the call, so if you’re gonna jerk off
do it now, asshole.
pretty crowded. You tugging? Up-down-up-down-updownupodownup…
special for you, hun? Hope so, cos it’s
all you’re ever going to get.
creep. And tell that fucking bank of
yours if they’re a day late again, you’re gonna have to go three months without
hearing your Goddess’s voice, yeah?
occasionally. Don’t forget – 40%.
|“Hmm? Yeah, sure I’m wearing gloves and boots. It’s cold here in Buffalo, moron.”|