#usage

Sailor Moon PNGs for Anon (Heads up: I’ve never seen Sailor Moon but I like it :D)

Being that thing means I am what user wants or needs.

Some days I am just cum disposal. Not a fleshlight, not a sex doll. And obviously not a person.

A cum sewer.

It depends, but most times I am told to get on my knees and open mouth with my tongue out. I might expect that my mouth would be used, but my anticipation means nothing. I never know. You don't announce your plans to a sewer. You just use it.

You might enjoy having obedient object kneeling in front of you. Or you might don't care abour that at all and ignore it. It is really up to you.

But when I am really mere cum sewer usually you just touch yourself watching porn on your phone. Your sex is right in front of my face, you rub and jerk it, I sense the smell... It arouses and calls me, but I know better not to dare to reach it without command.

You turn the sound on, and I listen for the moans, feeling inside how your ignoring me humiliates me. I am right here, between your legs, but you still find the porn more interesting than me.

You either reach the climax directly or stop few times for a while to edge. Your choice. You're free person, you do what you want. I keep my tongue out, feeling how my saliva drools down. I already know what I get.

Then you shoot and your seed hits my face. If I am lucky I manage to get it in my mouth. But most often it's just random: my face, breast, mouth, sometimes even sculp is covered with your sperm. You look at me in annoyance or even disgust.

If I am even more lucky you let me clean it. You might want to wipe it against my cheek or even let me lick it clean. If something is on the floor and the floor is clean enough (happens rarely though, the space and the surface needs to be prepared properly for that to be the case) to be considered safe, I am told to lick the floor.

And then... I am released and you continue your day. That thing served its purpose and is not needed anymore.

Or: How old am I, really? I’m seeing this a lot of late, and it bugs me. It bugs me enough that I got out my trusty Chicago Manual of Style, 18th edition, and looked up “decades” and “centuries” (sections 9.34 and 9.35, for those playing along at home) to see whether I’m totally nuts. I’m not. At least not on this particular matter. Setting aside the question of words versus numerals, which is…