Remembering Charlotte’s cunt
I miss Charlotte’s pussy. A lot.
Read moreI miss Charlotte’s pussy. A lot.
Read moreMy core fantasy, in pictures….
Read moreI would make an excellent member of the secret police.
Read morePart one of a date on which Charlotte might reasonably have expected herself to be tied to a chair and interrogated.
Read moreEvery photo I’ve ever posted of Charlotte. In one place.
Read moreThe lead-up to a date. Revisions….
Read moreCharlotte makes a list for me. And she comes. A bunch.
Read moreSome face-slapping, some rope, a mirrored ceiling, and a lot of orgasms.
Read moreThinking about fucking. And anger. Mostly, anger.
Read more