I ran across a live one who called herself "MysticFaery". She was an aging bimbo who was absolutely obsessed with her own nudity and had spent a fortune paying photographers to document the dying embers of her sexuality.
Since I had put up pics of some of my paintings and photo montages I had the credibility to send her a private message and get a response. I built slowly, the first messages I sent complimented the shots, the lighting, etc., and only later started telling her how beautiful she was.
After a few weeks, the private messages turned to emails, and the emails became phone calls. The phone conversations were sexually charged for sure, but not phone sex. I wasn't about to let her off that easy. All the while she sent me shots of herself and bragged of her various modeling jobs. I guess showing your tits next to a Camaro is modeling, but it sure isn't the big time.
When she sent me some VERY lightweight S&M shots she had done, I saw my chance. "Wow, that's crazy. I've never seen anything like that. That's hot." I almost had to hold my nose at the bullshit I was slinging.
Obviously intrigued at seeming "wild" to an artist from a large city, she started laying it on thick. "Oh really? I've done lots of stuff like that. It's fun." She was trying her damnedest to be sultry. She had something to prove. Unfortunately for her, I was going to prove something too.
More shots of her in leather winking at the camera followed, and I told her exactly what she wanted to hear. Only a few of these came before I got the call I had been waiting for. "Hi, I'm going to be in New York this weekend," Her slutty cigarette voice said through the phone. "Why don't we get together?" "That sounds great. Of course, I'll have to buy you dinner," I said. "Of course." She sounded giddy at the thought of an expensive meal.

She arrived by cab to meet me at the Water Club. I was waiting in the bar, and when she walked in she could barely contain herself at the swanky restaurant she was in. In truth the Water Club had mediocre food, but it had a great view and a guy playing piano and singing show tunes in the bar. The necessary elements to impress a dipshit.
She came down the steps accompanied by a Cole Porter song, with a dress that would have looked great on a girl in high school. She wore too much makeup, costume jewelry, and I knew from the pictures she'd sent me that her pussy was shaved. She was the world's oldest tween.
I went to work kissing her ass and pouring liquor down her throat. She wasn't bad looking for her age, if we were married and she had a decent personality, I probably wouldn't have bothered fucking anyone else. That, however, was not the case.
"I can't believe we're finally here together" I said, oozing saccharin affection. "I feel like I've known you forever."
"You always have the right thing to say," she giggled.
"I love your dress," I lied. "You make everything look good."
"Thanks. You look really good, too," she replied drunkenly.
I knew it was time to go, because she was getting really shitfaced. The waiter was starting to scowl and I didn't want it to be a big deal getting her out of there. I motioned him over and handed him my credit card.
Twenty minutes of insipid conversation later my car rolled up in front of my loft, a decent-sized building with a bottom floor that I rent out to a couple of businesses whose windows were dark.
"We're here," I smiled. She stumbled a bit getting out of the car, and giggled up the front step and into the front hall. She just made it to my couch before passing out. 
The ice water hitting her in the face and the bright light going on shocked her into awareness. She was naked, kneeling and handcuffed in my studio.
"Wake up, you old whore," I bellowed
"Nnnngh" she groaned and squinted at me through smeared eyeliner.
I grabbed her by the hair and jerked her to her feet. She was still wearing the cheap heels she'd arrived in. I liked those.
"So this is what I waited all this time to see?" I clenched the fistfull of hair hard with one hand and slapped at her aging body with the other.
She screwed her face up into a grimace and still blinked at the single, bright light.
"These are some pretty raggedy old tits," I grabbed one nipple and pulled it hard toward the floor.
"Aaaaaaaah!" she shrieked. "What are you doing?"
"This was your idea, remember? You said you do it all the time," I laughed. "You said it was fun."
I shoved her and let go of her hair. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and she crumbled to the floor. She tried to stand and creep away from me as I straddled her and put a dog collar on her neck.
I threaded the end of its long chrome chain through the iron columns of the radiator in the corner, stood up and pulled it, slowly. Metallic ratcheting rung through the plumbing as her head was drawn ever closer to the ancient cast iron.
I tied my end off to a nearby pipe. I dropped my pants to the floor and stepped out of them. My boner bobbed around and her eyes grew wide with terror.
"No! No! No! No! No!" she pleaded.
I knelt down and shoved my cock into her. "Jesus Christ your pussy's loose. Dry, too."
I pulled out and emptied the better part of a tube of K-Y into the palm of my hand. I worked it into the folds of her vagina, which felt like a worn-out-catcher's mitt. Globs of it slid down her leg as I worked my cock in and out of her coolly lubricated hole.
"That's better. Still pretty fucking loose, though." I pulled out and rolled the head of my penis around on her asshole.
She frantically tried to push me away with her cuffed hands, scratching me a bit in the process, which I rather liked.
"Whyyyyyyyyy?" she trailed off into sobbing.
"Why?" I laughed. "Because you parade around like you're a fucking sex symbol, and you're just a tired old bar-fuck."
"I hear from guys all the time who tell me I'm beautiful. You're not the only one I talked to." There was a glint of anger in her eyes and a note of hope in her voice that she'd found a way to cut me down.
"Gee, that's shocking. MY grandmother could put naked pictures of herself on the internet and SOMEBODY would write to her. The willingness losers to look at you naked while they beat off does not make you hot. They're pretending you're their mom, or aunt, or third grade teacher." Her moment of hope was crushed, and I went back to the business of penetrating her anus.
She still fought me, so I grabbed my jeans and produced an enormous buck knife. Its gleaming edge clicked into place in front of her eyes which were now bugging out of her head.
The fighting stopped and I drove my painfully erect member deep into her rectum. I pumped in and out of her asshole while I played at poking her tits with the knife. One or two pricks drew blood, one at the nipple, but she didn't dare complain.
Quiet whimpering was all I heard until I pulled out and repositioned myself in front of her. She squirmed and made faces while I bumped her mouth with my dick, but when I held the knife to her throat, she opened up and took it willingly. I shot my load down her throat which she obligingly swallowed, along with smears of KY and her own anal mucous.
I stood up, put my pants back on and delivered the final blow. "Someone had to tell you that you're not hot anymore. You've spent your whole life getting guys to kiss your ass, and it's over. You parade around like a twenty-year-old, but your tits sag, your ass is flabby and your face is wrinkled. It's time for you to give up and go to whatever human scrap heap over-the-hill bimbos go to and stay there. You're fucking pathetic."
I flicked the rest of the lights on, and her pictures were all over the walls. I had blown them up so that you could see every wrinkle, mole, hair, and hint of cellulite. I had circled and labeled every transgression with a black sharpie.
"You're a motherfucker, but those other guys love me," she whined.
"You're an old whore, and nobody loves an old whore," I replied coldly.
"I'm NOT an old whore," she said staring at the floor. "Yes, yes, you are." I held a hand mirror to her face and she could see that, while she was passed out, I had used the black sharpie to carefully letter the words "OLD WHORE" backwards, on her forehead.