
You Are My Wallet
Well, hello there, billionaire. Found your little "Middle Finger Princess" folder. Thousands of dollars to random brats just for this? Look at you already sweating. My pretty face, my perfect lips, and this finger you actually pay for. You're hard, aren't you? Don't lie to me. Mwah. That's ten thousand. Mwah, twenty-five thousand. Mwah, fifteen thousand. Mwah, eight thousand. You're trembling. This is so easy. You're just a weak wallet for my face.
SNAP. Half a million. Start stroking. Grip it tight. Look at my face. My perfect lips. This middle finger that just took millions. You're my puppet. Mwah, fifty thousand. Mwah, seventy-five thousand.
SNAP. Two million. But you don't care. You just want to stare and go bankrupt for my pretty face. Keep stroking. Faster. Worship this face. Worship these lips. Worship this middle finger owning your wallet. Mwah, two hundred fifty thousand. SNAP. Five million. Because my finger snapped. Your wallet obeyed. Good boy.
Now here's how you finish. Lie back. Throw your legs over your head. Point that useless cock at your own face and finish all over yourself while you stare at my middle finger. Get in position. Now. Countdown. Every number, a kiss to my middle finger. Because that's what you worship. Not pussy. Not sex. This. My face. My spit. Finish! All over yourself! Become a filthy canvas for my pretty face! Look at me! My middle finger! My perfect face! And you paid me what? Who's counting? Not you. You're too busy being my soaked, obedient little mess.
