Oh, you really could only resist for so long. You knew that you didn’t stand a chance, because this body knew that you just had to give in, had to submit, had to shrug your cock.
Do you think you’d be this weak if you were a real man? Do you think you’d be able to resist just a little bit longer? Maybe if you weren’t so desperate. Maybe if you weren’t such a little gooner. But you have that cock trained to need you have it. So used to being pumped every day. It’s all that your little head can think of. Stroke, stroke, stroke. It’s all you ever, ever crave.
And so, of course, I’m going to take full advantage of that weakness. My perfect body. Because I know you’re a desperate little man. A desperate, horny little gooner. That just will never stand the chance. Destined to be destroyed. Built to goon. Born to worship. Born to serve. Say it. I’m born to serve, goddess.
No more to be weak. Stroke, stroke, stroke. Worship is all that cock of yours knows. Doesn’t know the body of a woman. No, just knows after pub. It’s always been that way. Always been weak. Always been a gooner. Always been so easy to manipulate. I mean, look at you, Tom. Trolling for my pasties. Trolling.
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