Charlotte – My Dissolute Life

Remembering Charlotte’s cunt

I miss Charlotte’s pussy. A lot.

There was a moment when I craved me a pale redhead. Other moments, I’ve craved tiny little women. Right now?[…]

My core fantasy, in pictures….

I would make an excellent member of the secret police.

Part one of a date on which Charlotte might reasonably have expected herself to be tied to a chair and interrogated.

Every photo I’ve ever posted of Charlotte. In one place.

The lead-up to a date. Revisions….

Charlotte makes a list for me. And she comes. A bunch.

Some face-slapping, some rope, a mirrored ceiling, and a lot of orgasms.

Thinking about fucking. And anger. Mostly, anger.