I see you lurking on my profile again, tracing the outline of my BBC through my silk panties and wishing you had the balls to actually claim it. Suck My Tranny Dick is the only command that should be ringing in your ears right now because I’m in a dangerously horny mood and I’ve decided you’re the lucky punk who gets to handle it.
You’ve been obsessing over the rumors of this legendary black Johnson, and now that you’re staring at the real thing, your mouth is already gaping open in awe. I don’t do affection, and I don’t do “pretty” or “soft” … I do total, absolute submission from a loser who knows he’s outclassed.
Are you hungry for some chocolate, you little punk? Well, aren’t you in for a treat? Surprise, I’ve got a massive chocolate-bar just for you, and it’s time you finally got a taste of what a real queen carries between her legs. Admit it, you clicked this because you’re addicted to tranny phone sex and you’re dying to wrap your lips around this king-size Snickers.
But let me clarify one thing, white boy, before you get any bright fucking ideas: NO you cannot fuck me, and NO I will not suck on your pathetic little pecker. When you enter my world, everything is centered on my black mamba and how much of it you can swallow.
My cum-gun is loaded and heavy, and when I’m ready to shoot, you better be ready to empty my clip without missing a single drop. This big motherfucker deserves every ounce of your focus, so keep those eyes locked on me while you work. I know I’m a bossy, black bitch, and that’s exactly why you’re shivering right now.
I’m not some soft girl; I’m the one who’s going to turn you into my personal, white, meat-pop-loving twinky. You will suck, you will gag, and you will choke on all 9 inches until your eyes water and your throat aches. I’m going to pound your face with this rhythm until you forget your own name and your own dignity. You aren’t here to wind down or relax; you’re here to be used until I’m satisfied and bored with your performance.
I’ll have your little twinky ass gaping for days, begging for another round of this discipline. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be addicted to the taste of Mika and the weight of my authority. When you call me, you should already be on your knees with your hands behind your back and your pride left at the door.
I don’t want to hear any excuses or any whining; I just want to hear the sound of you struggling to keep up with my pace. You wanted the real Mika, and now that you’ve got me, you’re realizing that you’re way out of your league. This isn’t a game to me; it’s an addiction for you. Now, get down and prove you can handle it.











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