
You Deserve Every Filthy Puff from My Tailpipe
You’re flat on your back behind my car, helpless and addicted, while I sit comfortably in the driver’s seat with my silky pantyhose and high heel pumps teasing the gas pedal. I don’t even acknowledge you — because I don’t have to. The only thing you get from me is the filthy, hot exhaust pouring from my tailpipe. That’s your reward. Your punishment. Your place.
I mock you for being so desperate to be soiled by the waste of my V8 engine. I toy with the gas pedal, revving just enough to make you squirm and beg for more — not that I care. This is a cruel, bratty, dominant video where I make it clear: you’re not in the car. You’re not part of the fun. You’re just there to suffer what I leave behind.
