How eager you are to throw your legs up in that loser position for me. Gobble down all that cum like a good boy. It’s not your first time. It won’t be your last. Rock hard. Not for me, no.
You’re a little sick, twisted freak. You’re rock hard thinking how good it’s going to feel gobbling up that sticky load again. The only way you can come is when you’re swallowing.
It’s not even the orgasm that you look forward to. Not anymore. When was the last time, huh? I mean, really, when was the last time? Oh, you sat down, pulled up some vanilla sporn, and went to town on yourself without a thought for that ooey, gooey low to slip down your throat and fill you right up. I bet you can’t remember. It’s been so long. It’s been so many lows eyes have rolled deep into the back of your head as that warm, sticky, salty love hits your tongue. You can’t remember. It’s like the man who existed before swallowing is gone. Like he was never there. Like he never had any kinks, desires, thoughts, dreams. Because once you found this, this has been your calling. This has been your everything. This has consumed you.
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