I used to think posh girls were off-limits. Boarding school, riding lessons, daddy’s credit card, all that bollocks – the kind who’d sneer at a bloke like me. Then I found RachelSmithB. Thirty, British, red hair down to her arse, and an accent that sounds like she should be discussing Austen at a dinner party. Instead she’s discussing how deep she can take a dildo in her pussy!
She’s curvy with a bit of chub – soft in the right places, the kind you want to grab onto while you ruin her. DD tits, pale skin that marks easily, bald pussy that looks expensive. But it’s the stockings and heels that really do it. She never takes them off. Even when she’s naked, spread, cumming – the stockings stay. The heels stay. Like she’s properly dressed even while being absolutely filthy. That contrast destroys me every time.
She’s available for FaceTime, which means actual conversation with actual eye contact. Her weapon, she calls it. And she’s right. When she looks at you through that screen – direct, unflinching, posh as fuck – you feel like she’s actually there. Like she can see exactly how pathetic you are. She probably can. She’s got that boarding school confidence, that “I know better than you” energy that makes submission feel natural. You want to please her. Want her approval. Want her to say “good boy” in that accent while you blow your load.
