Moans and Murmurs

I go for a run almost every morning on the beach nearest to my neighborhood, and I constantly eye the public restrooms there. Sometimes, I worry someone will reach out to take me by surprise, and drag me into one of the stalls before forcing me down onto my knees. I’m sure the tile would be repulsive, cold and unforgiving, but my mouth and tongue would be warm and pliant. I would be so scared that I’d probably just freeze up like a toy, and you’d have no choice but to lift me into the air before shoving me down onto your cock.

Maybe you’d keep me squirming there for hours, struggling to get out of your grasp or to call for help before you bury your seed in me.

Afterwards, I’d have no choice but to limp home, without my underwear or valuables.

There wouldn’t be any point in calling for help, since I would have no way of proving that I didn’t enjoy it. If I really didn’t want it, why would I ever leave my apartment in such slutty little exercise sets in the first place? Not to mention how easily I could be caught with a toy or a plug already comfortably burrowed inside of me, which would only serve to illustrate what a desperate whore I really am deep down.

You don’t actually have to pay me any change, by the way, I’m nothing if not charitable! It also feels more exciting to whore myself out for free than it does to be an actual whore, because I would never ask that anyone pay me to fulfill the purpose that I was born to serve!

As you might have noticed, this post is a touch less flowery than the last, and that is because I am revealing a few of my innermost thoughts with you, directly, in order to share a fun little source of excitement that I have been unable to pull myself away from throughout the day.

I’m thinking of it even now, in exceptional detail!

Firstly, get to know me a little better! I moved to Los Angeles a few years ago in order to chase after a number of vapid pursuits, like obtaining a position in the entertainment industry.

The only thing is, nothing gets me wetter than posting pictures of my soaked and swollen little pussy online!

Some part of me wants nothing more than to achieve that perverted version of my childhood dream, where I’m always on camera and always the center of attention. I want to be on display, even if that means taking my clothes off and bending over so that my betters can get a good look at the cum leaking out of me.

Then I’ll start talking sense into myself. “If my life was ruined like that, I could never go back to normal,” I think.

And then I hear a tiny voice in the back of my head that says “You don’t want to be normal, you want to be useful.”

Good girls are useful, and I want to be a very good girl, so I guess I’ll have to make myself very useful!

I’m already writhing as I report this information. A sizable toy is attracting the majority of my attention, making me buck and whimper into the empty air above me as I feel the silicone push unrelentingly against the walls of my soft, tight, pink pussy. I’m desperate and shivering as I feel myself tense around the intrusion, and I realize that the ache in my cunt is beginning to seem too overwhelming to bear. A mix of lubricant and my own excitement drips down my thigh, and I consider what comes next. I am showing myself a kindness by stuffing myself full in such a humiliating manner, as it will prepare me for the challenge of thoroughly riding and milking the considerably more imposing toy that awaits me on my nightstand, thick and knotted. I want to feel thoroughly used and bred, as I suspect it is all that I am meant to achieve, and I hope that this ritual will make me a more desirable tool with which to fulfill this purpose.