Freya… Freya… She just unlocked a core memory in me. You know how Talion runs around the Shadow of War map, chased by deformed goblins who want to eat him alive, unlocking core memories of Shelob? I’ve just had that kind of experience. Freya… she’s hard to tangle in words. Freya is more of a feeling. That box-dyed blonde hair, a jawline that could cut a penis in half, big puppy dog eyes that plead for your attention—the whole package. And don’t even get me started on the body, I could write poems about it, like a horny Lord Byron, gripping the pen(is) and squirting that white ink all over her.
Oh, right… the core memory. In my college days, which we could count in 70,000 consecutive 30-second radio advertisements, 1,500 awkward elevator rides, 4,380 consecutive 2-hour live seminars on how to last longer in bed… You get the idea, it was a long time ago. In my droopy high school that resembled more of a tin can than an education center, the people walking in? All deadbeats and white trash failures of life. There was a droopy girl who looked exactly like Freya, almost a split-image copy of her. I had the biggest crush on this woman. I used to roll my own cigarettes, and the Freya lookalike and I used to bum one, sharing some depressingly odd shit that young adults do, you know the gist. I never got to bang this chick, but I would sell a kidney to meet her again and unload my Andrew Tate pickup lines on her. Well, I can settle for the next best thing, which is Freya Roberts and her OnlyFans profile. This chick is only 19 years old and brand spanking new to this whole debauchery!
Seuss Me Up!
Despite my soft spot for nostalgia, this Freya is nothing like the girl who reminds me of her. If you take all the girls who wait in line at Starbucks, merge them into a confident and sexual appetite, slap some ambition in them, and do all kinds of PowerPuff Girls shit… ultimately, you get Freya. This babe has managed to rack up some student loans, all because she has a passion for investigations and questioning. Yeah, Freya is currently a criminology student, but she promises not to interrogate you too much. I hate to fucking admit it, but I can already smell the interrogation. These criminology chicks? They are fucking curious. I bet my kidney she’s going to ask all sorts of weird questions and try to pinpoint my cum at the scene of the orgasm. Right away, I’m fucking guilty, Freya! Guilty for getting a boner looking at those 13 posts of yours. As a matter of fact, one hand is firmly squeezing the life juice out of my reptilian tail, while the other one is scrolling through your profile and listing all the shit you did that got the blood flowing.
You can’t blame me for being a horny man! Especially not when a woman is spread across in red lingerie, has a fat yet athletic booty strapped below her back, and is not afraid to extend that tongue out of her mouth hole and look sexy doing it. It’s hard to look away… extremely difficult to remain calm and disciplined. Especially not when I’m browsing the blue and white hub of debauchery, and you, Freya… you are not a delicate flower. But I see the game at play here, it’s all about the cash, and the horny simps are ready to empty their pockets.
That sharp-jawed blonde’s fat athletic booty bounced like two wild Who-ville planets in heat, and my poor Seussian soul went utterly ZOINK! This is how Dr. Seuss would describe her. I don’t want his target audience, they are not allowed here. But I want to make it extremely simple for my beloved simps, so all of you can understand the thought process that zoinks my head. Wrestling against me are the horny demon and the equally horny but cautious angel on my shoulders. The angel is a pure skeptic, he states that no good will come out of Freya, that I should leave while it’s great, or I’ll end up disappointed. The demon? He doesn’t even speak, he just strokes violently, and somehow… I can understand what each stroke means.
Playing The Game
You already know who won since I’m still here. The smile on my face turned into a frown the moment I checked my OnlyFans inbox and found Freya. She has already texted me, and she drips tears of desperation and holds a powerful tone of authority, like a true private investigator of cum and dirty talk. The red flags waved in front of my face, the wisdom of the horny angel from earlier echoed in my ears again, and it all made sense. Freya is playing that bait-and-switch game, she’s willing to text you anything… just to make you respond. She immediately asked me about my first thought when I saw her, which was a blatant copy-paste automatic message. Then she kept nagging me about my name, sent me a voice message because she got fucking tired of typing with her beautiful cock-stroking hands, and as a cherry on top… she asked if I’m ignoring her. All in the span of 30 minutes.
This is where her criminology mindset becomes annoying as shit. There’s an art when it comes to talking dirty and keeping a horny man, well, horny. The first thing you want to avoid is asking for my name, REPEATEDLY. I’m not here to share personal information, I just want to have fun and talk about sweet nothings and empty promises with a hot chick. Her dedication, though? That’s on point. She yanks my goddamn soul out of my body, squeezes it with her own repetitive bullshit, and forces me to respond to her messages. She knows the game here, and she knows that I’ve never had a woman pretend to be interested in me, so she’s weaponizing her words and utilizing them with precision. This kinda sends chills down my spine, and I’m finally beginning to understand how women feel when a guy just won’t stop texting them. It gives me an itch inside my head that I cannot scratch, and makes it feel like we are exchanging words out of convenience, and each word exchanged is there for the ultimate goal that Freya has planned, which is to extort me out of my money by buying her nudes and make me a happy customer.
Can’t Teach An Old Dog New Tricks
I’m not a wise man, and I was never really good with words to begin with. I had nothing to say to Freya, and I never texted her back. You see, a blonde bitch that makes my blood run circles around the groin area is an everyday thang for me. I deal with this shit all the time, and I know when to call it quits and move on. I’m not doing this because Freya is bad or anything, I’m mostly doing it because the experience feels wacky. I never really understood the OnlyFans hustle, and I would appreciate it more if she sent me an automatic message with a video attached for $15 or whatever price she has in mind.
What I’m trying to say is that I don’t like working for the pussy if I’m going to be paying for clips of it anyway. Do you talk to the baker for 20 minutes before he sells you the bread? Exactly. I treat this shit the same way. Jacking off is just an urge for me, and bitches like Freya are a dime a dozen, but I respect her hustle. At some point, it gets boring, and for me, it got boring after spending 10 minutes looking at her profile. OnlyFans profiles should be flashy, there should be offers and thirst traps everywhere! Spin the wheel and earn a free clip, buy this bundle pack at a low price, that kind of shit. Freya’s OnlyFans profile, on the other hand, feels more like a Twitter account, and I usually avoid those types of profiles like the plague.
