There is a lot of rocking and I am beginning to feel motion sickness. As I open my eyes, I spy a cock shafting a shaven cunt. We are in a bathroom. Gradually I am sliding down her leg, thankfully moving away from the action. But not enough. He pulls out and creams over her arse, and it then dribbles down onto me.
As I was carried into todays shoot, I became aware that the photo assistant was speaking to me. That’s right….to me! Telling me how good I was, how clever and fresh. How smart I looked, and how, through my work, I was bringing true happiness and joy to many people. That I was loved and desired. And you know what? I almost fell for it. I almost believed her. But I really saw through it all the moment the shoot was over and she just bundled me up and threw me in the trash.
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If you really love someone, then you must be able to love enough to let them go. For as free as you found and then fell in love, then why trap them. No, always be prepared and able to either, keep things as they were when you found them, or at the very least, return them to that condition. If God really loves me, then he’ll know what to do. I just wish he’d hurry up with it.
Taste. I have a finely tuned sense of taste or smaell or both. For instance, the diet of a man can be assertained from the taste of his semen. As can a girls’ from her cunt gunk. Then there’s what follows the dick when withdrawn from an ass during an anal scene. Here we can experience the diet first hand, in all it’s glory!
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A boy/girl shoot today. As I was being put on the model, I felt a heavy dark cloud of depression creep over me. Pretty soon, as piss follows shit, all sorts of degrading and filthy acts, accompanied with their respective fluids and noises, were taking place within the confines of my soft body. In this darkness I suddenly found myself calling out to God. And he answered. In gentle and kind tones he told me that my suffering had purpose, and though I couldn’t see it now, all would become clear later. Just then the model started her moaning, which grew loader in proportion to my need to hear God’s voice. In the end, she won out, and I was left straining to hear….nothing.
A baby is crying somewhere. When they open me up for work, I can see the little mite lying on his back in the tiniest diaper. I guess his mum must be my wearer. Though I try to strike up conversation with his Pamper, I soon discover that we speak a totally different diaper tongue. Just then, they do me up. It is dark and I am alone.
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