Sweet face, wicked hands, and she will not let you finish on our ruined orgasm phone sex call.

Look at me and tell me I look sweet. Go on. Everybody does. Big eyes, soft voice, the sort of face strangers call darling in the street. Then a gooner gets on my line and all that sweet goes straight out of the window, sweet boy.

Because here is what a brat does with a gooner. Nothing. Nothing is what I do. You are already leaky and desperate before you have even dialed, baby, and I am not rewarding that. You edge. Then you edge. Then you edge some more. Every time you get close I count you down nice and slow and take it away, and you can hear me smiling while you swear at me.

Put yourself in the goon cave for this one. Headphones, screen off, hand where I tell you. That is the whole evening, poppet. Gooning on my schedule instead of your own.

Then when I am bored of watching you twitch, I let you have a ruined orgasm. Hand still, no help, just the wreck of it dribbling out while you make that noise. That is ruined orgasm phone sex. Not a finish. A finish that leaves you worse than before, and you know it.

And you will thank me. You always thank me. It is my favorite part, the way a grown man goes all polite on me after an hour of being told what to do with his own hand. Good boy. Such a good boy. Was that so hard.

I collect you, by the way. Gooners. Sweet ones, whiny ones, the ones who swear they can hold it and then beg at the twenty-minute mark. Pet, if you are one of those, tell me early so I can enjoy it properly.

So bring me the leaking, porn-fried brain and the hand and a full hour. I will be sweet to you for about ninety seconds and then I will be wicked. Call me and find out which ninety seconds.

Call Poppy and start leaking: 1-866-251-5887

Or read my page first: https://www.cum-on.com/poppy/