Posts Tagged ‘financial domination’

‘Tis The Season

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

December 29th, 2011 >> Duty Roster, Photos, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

Trailer Trash Angel PSO

Buy Me Stuff



Buy Me Stuff
(I Like Stuff,
I Want Stuff)


Buy Me Something Little
(But With A

Bigger Price Tag!)



Buy Me More Stuff
More, More More!


Buy Me Something
Tiny & Shiny

(And Expensive)

Snuffle Snuffle Snuffles #4

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

November 30th, 2011 >> Humilation, Poetry For Piggies, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

My attentions are piggy’s truffles

from your wallet I lift bills
and I suck all your will
your ass I will drill

Do I Use you For your Money?

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

November 2nd, 2011 >> Duty Roster, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

Ask Men says there are four different types of gold diggers. Which one do you think I am? …Be careful how you answer. If you get the answer right, I might just treat you to something fabulous — time with Me.

Call Not Your Angel for phone sex on Niteflirt.com

Because You Are Wrapped Around My Little Finger…

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

July 1st, 2011 >> Humilation, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

I know you want to buy Me this little piggy ring.

Newsflash — For The Next Few Hours…

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

June 18th, 2011 >> Duty Roster, Humilation, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

Today I’m going to the flea market with My BFF Ashley and a boy toy — you know, some poor grunt who gets to drive us there, buy and carry our purchases, and is otherwise ignored…

Unless We mock him lol

Oh, and he gets the joy of walking behind us too.

If you wish you were there, call My ignore line today and you can experience it for your loser self!

If you don’t call, tribute Me $20 — just cuz I said to.

Let’s Face It: I’m Hot

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

June 10th, 2011 >> Duty Roster, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

And you’re not.

But in this heat, I’m too hot.

So buy Me and air conditioner — it’s likely the only way you can make My nipples hard!

This Is How I See You

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

March 10th, 2011 >> Humilation, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

Go see Me “guest post” over at Storybook Whorehouse. I, of course, look fabulous, even in this old timey image — but what do you think of you? lol

PBR Me, ASAP

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

March 6th, 2011 >> Humilation, Photos, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

Like Bailey Knox, I want my fridge stocked with beer. you, pathetic loser, will pay to stock it. Click the pig to put money in my bank account. Now.

 

 

Today’s Honest Truth

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

May 27th, 2010 >> Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

most-expensive-meal

Summertime, And The Piggies Are Easy

Posted by: Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

May 17th, 2010 >> Lingerie Fetish, Trailer Trash Angel Is Not Your Angel

I like summer; most people do. But summer’s where the money is for a trailer trash girl.

In winter there is the occasional, by comparison, crunch of tires on icy gravel, announcing the arrival of little piggies who come to view yours truly. But they stay in the car, with the engine off so as not to arouse suspicions while they arouse (and hope to relieve themselves of their arousal). But if breath-frosted car windows don’t block the view, my curtains drawn to keep heat in my trailer do; and then, of course, there is the matter of mittened-hands working zippers and what is inside them.

But in summer, piggies park elsewhere and sneakily creep (or so they think) into the bushes where they can (& quite often do) spy upon me. Exposing themselves to the summer environment is more comfortable, and it sure must be OK with them for they are rarely alone… It seems to me there are far more piggies in my bushes than the proverbial birds.

And the birds would have much better luck being in my hand.

From the bushes they peep, looking for signs of me. More than my comings and goings they see me in the windows — and at my favorite place, the screen door.

It’s one of those “half & half” doors; the top is screen and the bottom is that tin sort of metal. I use it to my advantage, standing before it, removing my panties and holding them up for the bush-pigs to see. They wank on their wee willies and dream.

They cannot see me, which only makes them pine more. And sometimes, when the mood strikes, I’ll toss my panties out the door onto the dirt before the steps to see what happens. I can hear the absence of the piggy pants — they freeze, including holding their breath. Will one of them run out to claim them? Will they fight for my panties?

Well, not yet. At least not that I’ve ever seen.

I sometimes call, “Sue-y!” to alert them. But they don’t need alerting; they know my worn panties are there. What they need are the balls to come forward. But balls they don’t have. Wee willies to wank, yes; balls no.

So I’ll retreat to the shadows of the trailer, where they cannot see me through the screen, and I wait. Eventually, if I do not get too bored, one of them will endeavor to come and get them. He will try to act nonchalant, strolling by, trying to act as if on a walk — and wait a minute… what’s that spot of red (or yellow, or white…) on the ground there? They squint and make like they will casually investigate; but they always chicken out.

My calls of, “Here piggy piggy piggy,” taunt them as they nearly run back into the bushes or down the drive which likely leads, somewhichway, to their car – and escape.

Other times I get bored waiting. When I remember to look for my panties I sometimes find them still there; other times I do not. I have found them behind the bushes, or on the steps to my trailer — and once, on the seat of my car — freshly laundered and delicately, reverently placed, like a rare offering. Other times, they hang soiled and used in the bushes, or, like the gift of a cat, dirty and abused, outside my door. But if the panties have been taken, returned or not, there is always a gifty for me.

Sometimes it is jewelry, or a gift card for clothes or DVDs, maybe cash, or a bottle of amaretto (my favorite, especially on ice on a summer night), perhaps, rarely, a card or note (most piggies are too timid to leave their names, especially with a pair of panties); but it’s always some little gift.

I do love summer.