One of my darkest secrets is that I have the kinkiest snuff fantasies running through my pretty little head. You probably wouldn’t think that a bubbly bimbo like me dreams about being able to play God with all of the cum craving cocks and cunts I come across, but I would absolutely love to be able to decide which of my lovers get to live and who, of them, deserves to die. I guess you could say that sometimes I wish that I were Lady Death.
Separating the winners from the losers would be easy. If you make my widowmaker happy, you get to live, can’t satisfy my slippery snakepit and that’s the end for you. Simple as that. Anyone who doesn’t know how to please a woman doesn’t deserve the precious oxygen they pull into their lungs.
And I’m not just talking about making my malicious muff cum, that’s not that hard to do. If my lovers want to save their own lives then they need to make my entire body tingle, give me the type of shivers that makes goosebumps rise up all over the entirety of my being. Find the sensitive areas of my milky flesh that a lesser lover would overlook, then exploit their delicate and ticklish nature. That type of shit. If you think I’ll be okay with you just banging away at my creamy holes then shooting your splooge inside of me, then you should get your affairs in order before you bend me over because you won’t be around to disappoint another woman much longer.
I’d love to have the ability to drain the life out of a guy if he doesn’t make me happy everywhere, body, mind and spirit. I know it sounds kind of dumb but any person who can’t fully please a woman just doesn’t deserve to live.
Savannah
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