‘Clueless, aren’t you? Good thing I’m here.’
Her perfume smells like burning leaves, everyday is Halloween.
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Today, I’m spilling the filthy, intoxicating truth about Moofy , that pathetic, pension-drained shell of a man I’ve owned for 12 long, delicious years. Oh, how we’ve danced this twisted tango, him spiraling deeper into blackmail addiction, exposure slavery, and utter beta acceptance. Everyone knows him now, every lady on the internet, from Findom queens to amateur brats, has exposed his…
