Miss Roper

Every morning, the first thing I do when I wake up is venture to the toilet... never knowing what is going to drop into the bowl. Now? Now your mouth is apart of my morning routine. Every single day, you will open wide for me. No matter what I've ate, no matter what I've drank... no matter what time of the month it is and you find yourself lodged with a filled tampon. You will take all of my morning glory, inside of you. This is a filthy, filthy fantasy, with the dialogue to match.

Every morning, the first thing I do when I wake up is venture to the toilet... never knowing what is going to drop into the bowl. Now? Now your mouth is apart of my morning routine. Every single day, you will open wide for me. No matter what I've ate, no matter what I've drank, no matter what time of the month it is and you find yourself lodged with a filled tampon. You will take all of my morning glory, inside of you. This is a filthy, filthy fantasy... with the dialogue to match.

You are so jealous of this porcelain underneath my perfect ass, aren't you? Wishing it were your face that it was resting on. Mouth open wide, ready and eager to take whatever I expel from my body. You desire so strongly, to be used in this filthy manner. Swallowing my goddess nectar, being my dirty little mud pig that bathes in what my bowels release. You crave for your tongue to be my toilet paper, to clean my skin. Serving me as my human toilet would be a dream come true. Here, is what you should expect when being my toilet slave...

This year, you've been placed on the naughty list. It seems someone's forgotten what Step-Mommy & Step-Daddy use to tell them growing up throughout the year, how easy it is to misbehave and end up with a stocking full of coal. Sometimes what we think of to be folk tales in our youth, should be seen as warnings, caution to take into adulthood. I do not tolerate misbehavior of any kind, though despite your bratty antics & behavior; you will be receiving a gift this year. I've filled my belly with milk & cookies, & being lactose intolerant a loud rumbling is brewing in my belly. Perfect. Spreading my cheeks and letting you take a peak & whiff of my fragrant brown Christmas star, I tell you of all the coal that's soon to be rushing down from my chimney & onto that poor, unlucky face of yours. However due to my holiday snacking, I can't promise it's going to be very firm. Slipping & sliding in your gift, you are to become covered head to toe in remorse for your actions.