Last Updated on: 15th November 2023, 01:28 pm
Alright, gather ’round, my digital divas and décor devils. It’s my first Christmas in the cutthroat world of furniture in Second Life, and guess what? It’s only November, but I can already hear those sleigh bells ringing in my ears, ready to trample me like a stampede of reindeer.
So, here’s the deal: I’m up to my eyeballs in event invites, while my brain is spinning like a disco ball, trying to figure out what to unleash upon the virtual world. My genius solution? Slap some festive cheer on my existing stuff. Take that snazzy bed I just launched – I’m tossing a Christmas texture pack on it. Why? Because I fucking can, and because it’s about time you had some damn holiday spirit in your virtual boudoir.
And yes, I’m doing texture packs now. Revolutionary, right? Buy a bed, and get a parade of new looks for it. And sure, I’ll even consider some of your wild and wacky ideas. Because nothing says Christmas like catering to the whims of my adoring fans.
Oh, and if I sound more Grinch than Santa, it’s because I’ve been sucker-punched by a cold. My head’s a foggy mess, my nose is on lockdown, and my patience is running on fumes. But do I stop? Not a chance. There’s no rest for the wicked, especially not when there’s a virtual furniture empire to run. So, strap in – I’m about to deck the halls of Second Life, one pixel at a time and get some wild messy sex along the way.
The Return of Mr. Persistent
Ah, gather around, my Second Life scandal-seekers, for another chapter in the saga of Daria’s digital dalliances. A few moons ago, I met this guy at Mature Doggers – good for a chat and a romp, or should I say, a creative use of a workbench. You can take a stroll down memory lane with that steamy tale by clicking here, but let’s fast-forward to now.
This guy, let’s call him Mr. Persistent, has been on my case like fucking white on rice. IMs bombarding me left and right, like I’m the prime target of a relentless telemarketer. In another life, where I’m not swamped with my furniture empire, I might have entertained his advances. But reality check: 90% of my life is in the warehouse, 5% in the store, and the other 5%? Lost in the haze of my recreational drug habits. Oops.
So, there I was, elbows deep in my latest creation – the ‘Sneaky Glory Hole’ – when Mr. ‘Have You Considered Extended Warranty?’ pops up. But oh, he’s switched tactics. Now it’s all, “I just moved,” and “I need furniture.” First things first, Romeo. I could walk into a showroom and still convince you there’s room for one of my beds.
But hey, the guy’s as persistent as a pop-up ad, and I could use a break from my pixelated paradise. So, tools down, I teleport over. I knew what this was – a thinly-veiled booty call under the guise of a Second Life furniture consultation. But with my eyes going cross-eyed from work (or was it the drugs?), who am I to say no to a little extracurricular activity?
Mr. Upgrade and the Art of Furniture Testing in Second Life
There I was, expecting Mr. Mediocre, but what do I find? Mr. Holy-Hotness-Upgrade. The dude went from “meh” to “whoa” faster than a glitch in the matrix. He’s sporting tats and a chiseled jaw that could cut glass – I’m not just drooling, I’m a fucking puddle on the floor.
He launches into this spiel about needing more furniture. I’m looking around this matchbox he calls a home, thinking, “Really? You’d have more space in a game of Tetris.” He’s living so compact, Harry Potter’s cupboard under the stairs is like a luxury suite in comparison.
But then, a plot twist – I cam around and find he’s shacked up in an Onsu skybox that’s bigger than my ego. The master bedroom alone is a furniture mogul’s dream. And he’s squeezed into this tiny room? Either he’s the world’s most ambitious lodger or he’s playing 3D chess while I’m stuck on checkers.
This situation is giving me Chandra-lodger flashbacks – all sunshine, rainbows, and glitter bombs. I can’t help but feel for his landlord; living with that bundle of fucking joy can be a test of sanity.
Mr. Upgrade’s prattling on, feigning interest in my furniture, but who’s he kidding? I see right through his charade and tell him to cut to the chase. The man’s already in the buff, which is basically skipping to the final round. He sidles over to the sofa, and I’m in tow. What follows is a whirlwind tour of wet cock sucking and hard fucking, leaving us both in a state of post-romp bliss. Ah, the things I do for… well, certainly not for Second Life furniture sales this time.
The Quest for the Perfect Stunt Cock in Second Life Furniture Creation
So, back to the grindstone my digital darlings. The ‘Sneaky Glory Hole’ was calling my name, unfinished and taunting me like a bad internet connection. All that was left was the texturing and setting up the changer. Easy peasy, right? Once that’s done, it’s showtime for the world. But here’s the rub: sometimes, I’m short a stunt cock for fine-tuning. Yeah, occasionally I strike gold, but most times, these guys don’t realize they’re signing up to be my mannequin while I play puppeteer. It’s not all glitz and glamour; they’re just there, sprawled out, while I’m doing the serious business of adjusting angles and positions. It’s a process, and it can drag like a bad sitcom.
But when luck’s on my side, and those base engines are set, they’re set. No fuss. Then it’s just a matter of adding the bells and whistles: smoother animations, the works. So, there I am, wall’s all done and dusted, and I’m down to the last crucial bit. The pièce de résistance: testing the final, climactic moment.. the facial. The glory hole’s not an animation festival; it’s affordable, fun-sized, with just enough oomph to make it worthwhile. Quality animations, Lovense-ready, and a hoot for anyone looking for a good time.
Then it hits me. Beach Guy. Mr. Prim Lego, as I fondly remember. He was online, and last time we chatted, he didn’t seem to mind being my live-action Ken doll. Maybe it’s time to give him a buzz, see if he’s up for a bit of puppetry in the name of the perfection of furniture in Second Life.
From Warehouse Woes to Storefront Shows
And just like that, my lusty leerers, Mr. Prim Lego was all over the chance like a moth to a flame. I barely finished typing when he materialized in my store, looking like he’d just stepped off a ‘Hot Avatars of Second Life’ calendar shoot. There I was, trying to stay professional, but let’s be real — with him looking like a fucking snack, my professionalism was hanging by a thread.
So there we were, at the grand unveiling of the ‘Sneaky Glory Hole’, right by the store’s entrance. Starting him off with some hand work, you know, just a casual work day. But who was I kidding? This guy was no silent work dummy. The sounds he was making were the soundtrack to our own porn movie.
Before I knew it, I was on my knees, in full Daria mode, getting him all set for the grand finale with spit and saliva soaking his big delicious cock. Right there in the entrance, where anyone could waltz in. Talk about living on the edge — or kneeling, in this case.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. Skirt hitched up, I was all in, and so was he — think jackhammer with a PhD in pleasure. He slammed and slammed, my pussy was turning raw but damn did it feel good. And just as he was on the brink, I played director — “Cut! Hold it!” It was time to test the facial system. And guess what? It worked like a fucking charm. If there was an award for ‘Best Performance in a Store Entrance’, we’d have won it, hands down.
The Ultimate Sales Pitch | Furniture in Second Life Meets Lovense
Oh, the glamorous life of a Second Life sex furniture artisan, my dearest pixel-pushing perverts. And what do you know? It looks like I’ve snagged myself a reliable stunt cock, a handy-dandy human prop for all my furniture fine-tuning needs. Let’s place bets on how long he’ll last before he gallops off into the virtual sunset, another lost soul in Daria’s graveyard of bored playthings. Mwahaha… I mean, um, we’ll just see how long his enthusiasm lasts, shall we?
And there you have it, the end of another thrilling saga at Snark Queen Central. Now, brace yourselves for the unavoidable sales pitch, forced by Her Royal Fucking Highness, Jess…
clears throat with the gusto of a seasoned infomercial host
Attention, savvy Second Lifers! If you’re not completely clueless, you won’t want to miss out on Lovense. It’s like rocket fuel for your virtual shenanigans, catapulting your experiences to stratospheric levels of pleasure. And let’s not forget syncing up those Lovense gadgets with PleasureScape furniture — yeah, I’m shamelessly plugging my own shit. If I’m going to be a walking fucking billboard, I might as well advertise my own fucking genius. So, click here to grab your Lovense toy, and then mosey on over here to check out my store!
Catch you on the flip side, you beautiful disasters! Bye!
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