Just got back from a photoshoot where the photographer kept ‘adjusting’ my outfit a little too much… and honestly? I let him. There’s something thrilling about pushing boundaries while keeping total control—watching a man’s hands shake as he tries to play it cool while his cock strains against his pants. But let’s be real: nobody touches this pussy without my explicit permission. That’s the game, isn’t it? Giving just enough to make them desperate, then walking away like I didn’t notice. Maybe I’ll text him later… or maybe I’ll let him ache. Power is the best fucking foreplay. 📸🔥 (Also, side note: whoever said money can’t buy happiness never paid their rent with an orgasm.)