My Cucky Boyfriend

I talk like I’m doing you a favor. “We should do this more often,” I tell you, looping rope tight around your wrists until the knots bite. You stay put while I’m gone. That’s your job. Be good, stay faithful, stay useful in the dark. My beloved cucky boyfriend. I work you up first—stroke until you’re hard and straining, then let go. I leave you there, cock throbbing, still circumcised and exposed. You can hear everything from the next room: my moans, the slap of skin, the deep voice of the man I brought home. He grabs my big tits, fucks me senseless, and you listen. Every thrust reminds you what you’re not allowed to do. Every wet sound reminds you who owns this pussy now. You stay bound, helpless, listening to your girl get pounded while your balls ache and your mind spins. That’s the deal. That’s the high. You stay in the dark. I stay on the bed next door. And when it’s over, you’re still there—used, denied, and exactly where I want you.