Reality Fanboy Cuckold

John Jammen stalks the set like a dog on heat, panting for one thing: Chanel Preston’s pussy. Every time he spots me he grabs my sleeve and whines, “Book me, please.” I finally give him the nod. He walks in strutting, rope coiled at his hip, cock already hard under those gym shorts. Blonde, built, and hung, she watches him like she might step on him. He gets cocky—brags he’ll take every lash, every knot, anything she throws just to earn a taste. She smiles, snaps cuffs on his wrists, and spreads him across the bench. He’s sweating, breathing hard, already begging. Then the door opens again. Another man, bigger, steps in. Chanel turns her back on John without a word. She peels off her shorts, drops to her knees, and takes that thick cock down her throat while John strains against the ropes, forced to watch every wet inch disappear. He thought this was his shot. Instead he gets front-row tickets to the show—tied, throbbing, and completely useless.