The vexation of a no limits phone sex perv
He didn’t quite know what he wanted, he just knew whatever it was he probably shouldn’t want it. He sat in his hotel and contemplated stepping out, calling an “agency.” He was horny. The lights of the city had prickled his interest. Most of the thoughts concerned the young girls he saw in Times Square. They must’ve been cheerleaders on a spring field trip. All of them wore skin tight short shorts. These shorts presented a particularly nasty problem for him as they were so tight it allowed for detailed visualization of the naked ass underneath. The asses were a problem for a multitude of reasons, but mostly it was the age of said asses that presented the biggest problem.
And so he ended up talking to me. I love talking to phone sex perverts like this guy. He was ripe for the picking too–the picking of that mind leaves my twat in a lather. I love the intellectual types–the types that I can TELL would NOT be doing this at all if their urges didn’t MAKE them do it. If I didn’t exist, oh what a pity it would be for the stiffy these young asses have created for the phone sex pervert. His dick in hand we contemplate our options–and finally decide, yeah he wants to fuck one of them.
She might be a little bustier than the normal young girl, but she’ll have a tight cherry hole that he can pound nice and hard with his adult sized cock. And he will fuck that sweet pouty mouth too…shoving it in hard–“I want to skull fuck her, Tori.”
He wants to take it out on their bodies–because they (innocently so) taunt him and MAKE him NEED to spend time with the likes of me–no limits phone sex means exactly that.
And that no limits phone sex shit is the stuff that creamy pussies are made of.
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