Focal point

I can almost smell the sweat as it beads on the top lip of the fat fucker as he stares at her over his fatty jowls that just hang there on his face. Like a dog, salivating over a bone, I just know he’s disgusted at the thing that’s in front of him, but he can’t resist. He wants to lick it. Bite it. Devour it. She corrupts him.

He wipes a hand over his top lip, it doesn’t help. The sweat is smeared now, on his hand, on his skin. Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he get that the surface area of water becomes larger the thinner it gets, that it increases over more area? His hand will be damp and his lips will be covered in minuscule…

Yes. there it is. Wipe your hand all over your trousers, Doc. Get rid of the feeling of dirtiness by spreading it onto your open fly...


There you go. Paw away at yourself, it’s way past time. No one else but dogs and cats and whores will ever go down there, you can’t smell yourself. Only I nearly can. You disgust me.


“Oh baby, I like that.” Natasha purrs into the camera, bending herself over the bed, her hand rubbing her leather pants, her fingers so thin, your attention is automatically drawn to them, confidently pulling the material down, over her pink flesh. I loved those fingers, once. Now they’re just money.

The fat fucker doesn’t even know it. I go to work, swift, deadly. This is what I get off on. I look at the sad fucker’s faces as I rape them, destroy them, fuck them from every single direction. Bank accounts. Multi-media accounts. Email. Browser history. All mine.


Natasha pulls down her tight leather pants and his hand fumbles for his cock, just as I start purchasing from his credit cards and send the mail to him that is going to destroy his world. Telling him where we will start posting. His friends. His family. His pupils.

“Done.” I sigh, alert, anticipation making me breathless.

Natasha stops, rigid. She pulls up her string, walks to the camera as I turn the monitor so she can see the fucker. She always wants to look them in the eyes.

“Pull on this,” she says, giving him the finger and laughing that deep-throated laugh that still arouses me.

A slow sensual smile blazes over her as I start to bite her neck outside of the camera’s viewing angle, as the screaming starts.

Cam rape reversal addiction turns us on.

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