There’s something delicious about being watched — not just seen, but watched. Like prey that knows the hunter is already hard.
This week, I had a client beg for mercy halfway through a “massage.” He thought he was booking a fantasy. He didn’t realise he was the fantasy — squirming, shaking, ruined by a whisper.
Some men come for the body.
The smart ones?
They come for the aftermath — for the way I stay in their head longer than I stayed in their bed.
It’s not about the heels.
It’s the way I never trip in them.
Until next time, lovers.
— Koko Noir x 🖤
