Sci-Fi Siren Erotica

The Mystery Of The Slut Of The Sea

I drift between stars. I leave no trail, no sign, no heat. No, I don’t run. I lure. Alas, they called it Sci-Fi Siren Erotica, but there’s no fiction in the way I fuck. I rise from the waves. I open my mouth. Finally, I take them under, and they never come up for air.

They whisper about me in docking bays and dive bars. They call me a ghost. A curse of the sea. Most think I’m a hallucination. A wet dream wrapped in skin and static. I don’t mind. Their fear and ignorance feed me. So does their want. I choose the lonely ships. The ones with hungry men and tired hands. Consequently eager to succumb to Sci-Fi Siren Erotica. I find their signals. I pierce their hulls.  When I walk aboard naked under the illusion of satin, heels echoing down cold corridors. As my skin glistens in the moonlight. My hips sway with the motions of the ocean. Once my lips part. I sing an entrancing melody.

Their bodies betray them.

Their cocks rise yearning for a taste of Sci-Fi Siren Erotica. Even before their weapons. Their knees buckle. Their eyes roll back. They beg before I speak. Truly weak to their human nature. I don’t need to touch them not at first. My voice wraps around their minds. It fills their heads with heat and need. First, they forget the mission. Then they forget the rules. Until they remember only me. I am becoming the sun and the moon. The stars and the clouds. I become the sun of their universe.

Creating an animalistic gravitational pull. From their cocks to my pussy. Emitting a beacon like a lighthouse helps them to navigate the storm. Except in this Sci-Fi Siren Erotica, I am the storm. First, I take the captain. He’s most deserving of Sci-Fi Siren Erotica. Always. I ride him in his chair, thighs slick, throat moaning his name until his ship forgets who he is. It’s mine. Then I clench tightly around his cock. I pull secrets from his bones.

Fucking a Sci-Fi Siren Erotica 

He spills everything. I drink it down. Every last drop. Then I move to the next. First I swallow his cock down my throat. As I hum on his hard cock, his eyes roll back. Then I bend over for him to penetrate my slick, soaking wet entrance. The moment he enters me, all air escapes his lungs. Then he shoots a huge load deep inside me. Finally, his Sci-Fi Siren Erotica experience has concluded. Then the next and last. A handsome young deckhand. He tried to resist, but no man can. Furthermore, who would want to? Being drained of your life source, through your cock.

I bounced on him, rode him like a wave. Moans escape him, which feeds me. Sci-Fi siren erotica isn’t for the weak, but even the strongest can’t resist. They come hard. Then they come fast. Finally, they come forever. An eternity of Sci-Fi siren erotica is any man’s wet dream. Literally. Sci-Fi Siren Erotica Every Man’s Fantasy  I leave only when I’ve drained them all of information, of life, of pride. Then I never look back. I don’t have to. After I’ve swallowed all of their cocks

My Sci-Fi Siren Erotica mission is complete.

By the time the next ship finds them, they’ve stopped breathing or speaking. One man once lived. He crawled out, cock still twitching, voice hoarse from screaming. Covered in sweat and semen. He was a mix of euphoria and derangement. Then he looked straight into the light with a huge grin and said, “She sang… and I wanted to die in her mouth. I wanted to live inside her sweet, sweet hole forever.” I smiled when I heard that. Of course, I know inside of me, I have the power to bring even the strongest sailor to their knees.

They beg for my taut pussy perched between my thighs. Hot, tight, wet, and ready to swallow them whole. Mmmm, can you imagine a Sci-Fi Siren Erotica escape? Dive deep inside. I am your thirst and temptation of the sea. Because I’m coming again. Until no man who rides the ocean can say they’ve never had a Sci-Fi Siren Erotica encounter. The pleasure becomes their demise. Of course, you’ve heard their stories, but never mine.

Call me the Mistress of Phone Sex so I can sing all about it to you. I want you to tell me how you’d handle me. Can you handle the call of the siren? Maybe you have yet to get your sea legs. The sea forgets no man. And no man forgets me. I am the storm. I am the fuck. And I’m already under your skin. Call me, Mistress of Phone Sex, if you think you can ride the wave.  My pussy is wetter then the ocean thinking about all the things we can do together.

Call Tiffany 1-888-964-8863