Gothic phone sex, here in the cemetery, is the perfect setting for us. It’s a communion, a bizarre symphony where pleasure and pain intertwine in the night. But I’m not the one stroking you—it’s her. The ghost, the last snuff victim, my Daddy Master. Her lust was undiminished by death, and I need some pleasure too. She’s fucking your mind, making your cock throb with a desire that’s both spectral and sinfully real, all to my satisfaction.
It’s not often that I get to enjoy anything; I am told what to do, and I do it, but now and again, I get to enjoy the sensual experiences of those who have passed on. The moon casts a gothic glow through the weeds and tombstones, as we fuck among the graves. I imagine that this was a ritual that’s as old as the spirits themselves.
Ghostly Fantasy phone sex becomes our medium, a bridge connecting the living to the restless dead. This orgasm isn’t just a release; it’s a celebration of sensual blasphemy, a sacred defilement. Fuck it feels so good when those ghostly fingers work up and down on my body and then start to jerk you off. It’s crazy to be stroked off by a ghost and a snuff slave, but it does feel amazing,
Marley
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