"Let me know if it inspires anything."

Oh it did, it very much did. It never ceased to intrigue the young fellow how connections could be formed so effortlessly with people all around the globe, thanks to the miraculous advances in technology. The internet could be a festering, fetid place that brought out the absolute worst in people - but it also allowed some genuinely incredible things to occur. Such widespread, instant communication simply wasn't possible mere decades prior, and there was no shortage of astounding things that could be done with that power...

... like the sharing of cheap, silly smut between relative strangers. 

The fellow sipped at his tea, regarding the picture he'd been sent.

He wasn't the sort to pretend that he wasn't an outrageous pervert on the inside. Certainly he prided himself on his gentlemanly nature, seeking to ensure the physical and emotional comfort of all those around him; it wasn't hard to be a good person after all. But by the same token if anyone genuinely wanted to know, he would tell them without reservation all the deviant, decadent thoughts that swirled in his head. 

It wasn't the first time that he'd seen a photo of the woman over the ocean that had set his mind racing with all sorts of primal ideas. Modern culture had a tendency to focus only on the physique of the slender, elegant female; a fine form to be sure, but incorrectly labelled as the standard by which 'beauty' ought to be judged. The individual human by their very nature will find all sorts of things to suit their liking, and the young man in the cafe was fond of a wide variety of things oft overlooked by mainstream media.

Some of those things would be considered quite ordinary by the average person of course; even the most depraved personality will still find delight in some of the simpler things. The immense heft of the woman's breasts, the dark tone of her hair, the curl of her lips, the range of vibrant expressions she showed in her photos... even the way she gave her social media profile the name 'Maggiethemagnificent'. It projected a sense of authority and power; perhaps it was sarcasm, perhaps it was serious, but the young man loved it either way.

His fingers tingled as he imagined how it would feel to grasp her curves in his hands, press her body against his, bury his face in her flesh and let loose his raw, sexual hunger. A pink tinge grew on his cheeks as he envisioned himself sprawled on his back, the bulk of her body casually seating on his face as she switched on her television, ignoring the human cushion beneath her entirely - save for the casual order she gave for him to 'get to work' on her plump posterior. 

His heart rate kicked up a few digits.

Then you had the deeper thoughts, the ones beyond primal urges that strayed into territory that the casual observer would find far less understandable. Most people might hear the word 'kink' and imagine anal sex, bondage, whips and chains and men in leather. For him, it meant towering, mighty figures that rose far above - whether they be colossal Gods that made the ancient cities of humanity seem as mere dust beneath their tread, or whether it was the man himself dwindling away, a mere insect at the mercy of someone greater than he could ever hope to be.

The lady was more or less aware of these absurd perversions; she'd read a couple of his pieces in the past, and seemed okay with the idea that she was a muse for such surreal depravity. Though of course, she couldn't see the sheer extent of those fantasies in the young man's mind. On the surface he appeared to be calm and collected, seated with his laptop and gently sipping his tea as his fingertips dances across the keyboard. 

Inside however, it was a veritable maelstrom of sensuality and violence. Her foot slammed down on him as he scurried across the floor of her kitchen, a contemptuous smirk on her face as she felt the crunch against her heel, twisting back and forth. Her lips closed around his waist, teeth pinning him in place as she sucked on his lower half like a lolly, drinking in the guttural groans as he was rendered helpless in a wave of pain and pleasure. A smile curled the edge of her mouth as she walked down the street, passersby entirely unaware of the tiny human struggling helplessly in her cleavage, the weight of her breasts keeping him pinned firmly in place. 

She reclined on her couch, chest exposed to the elements in her empty house as her tiny slave straddled her nipple, palms massaging it obediently whilst his legs squeezed around the base. Her body convulsed as she bucked on a mattress, hips slamming repeatedly against the sheets as the little living toy squirmed inside her, a uniquely unusual type of pleasure devoid of any input from her - and indeed devoid of another person her own size. A gasp escaped her throat as she bent forwards on her bed, one hand keeping her buttocks spread firmly apart while the other carefully guided her little prisoner into her anus, his pitiful cries for mercy only making the delicious buzzing in her head grow louder. 

Her eyes twinkled in anticipation, her tongue tracing around her lips as she eyes the thick, meaty cock in front of her. The tiny Australian author she'd spoken to so often was stuck to the tip of that titanic member, struggling helplessly in a sticky slick of saliva as her handsome lover waited with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. She relished the slow gape of her mouth sending a fresh wave of terror washing over the helpless morsel before she took bulge and bug into her maw at the same time.

Nothing but amused, dominant satisfaction filled her soul as she prepared to take the full length of her lover's shaft into her asshole, his firm grip on her hips contrasting beautifully with the pathetic insect of a man trapped in the bubble at the end of his condom.

"Be careful what you wish for." She purred, as the puny pleas for mercy disappeared inside her superior posterior.

...

"Let me know if it inspires anything." She'd said.

"Oh, I definitely think I can work with that."