Chaneel_ Camsoda's Profile

Languages: español

Location: Milfland

Body Decorations: no

Smokes/Drinks: no

Interested In: Women, Men, Couples, Trans

Age: 43

Body Type: curvy

Chaneel_ Camsoda - Lovely Mom and her boyfriend walk in.

Trailers on my screen.Shocked my group looks on as two guys get out of a car.The driver pulls up in front of the car.The men step out of the car, one of them have their hands cuffed.One of the women asks "How are you".Chant'e looks at us. "You will spend the entire weekend naked, and go on every single party you are a part of and let the neighbors and your friends see you." I watch as her hands leave my shoulder. "You are so so …annoying, aren't you?" she says to me." "Yeah," I reply, flicking on the radio. "Hey Boom, my Chaneel_ Camsoda is here. This is Cisco. He is the one who will be with you this weekend." Cisco looks over the shoulder as we wait. "Come with me," she says. "He is quite a package, you know."We walk together out to the car, passing through the park and down a short dirt path to a short open grassy area with a very short cut. There are several shade trees here that give the area a cool, crisp fall air. "Come join me," she says to me. I can barely believe what she is asking me to do. She had just walked through a clearing, almost surrounded by a thicket of black curly hair and the occasional black and white striped braid. She hadn't said anything to me and I was surprised that she would want me to go through such a process.

But she was looking at me … and I could see why. Through the green of her eyes she was conveying her sexual excitement. I turned to her and apologized, but she just looked at me in shock. Then she growled. "If I find out you were gay … well, we will see," she said to me. "But for now I think that you can handle this. I am very impressed though by your obedience so far. If there is one thing you can teach me it is that very special gift." I sighed and wiped the tears from my eyes. "Thank you, my Lovely Traneel," she cooed at me. "I really appreciate the help you've given me. I am truly grateful." I felt a familiar tingle in the pit of my stomach. This girl is always talking about me, about herself.

She isn't making any assumptions about my level of skill or intelligence. She is simply stating the obvious … that I am very impressive. I am very lucky. My luck ran out a long time ago. Nowadays, though, she is anything but lucky. After all, I still call myself "Champion". Even though it is a pejorative term, I have a special appreciation for the sort of performance that I find extremely special. I have found that, on the rare occasions that I get to use my acquired skills to enhance her own happiness, she is the greatest gift that her gifts can give. I look deeply into her eyes and, from time to time, give gentle hints. I watch her flinch. It is a test, really. How well she obeys, how she copes with the pain, the ecstasy, the inner turmoil … she is my champion. She is the one who walks the tight rope..

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