Waking Up to Jerk Off to Someone Else
Would it be cruel to wake you up in the middle of the night just to hold my phone? You’d wake up to my rough, uncaring prodding, my eyes fixed to my phone screen. You’d feel my arm jerking furiously, and hearing the wet, sloppy sounds of my lube-coated cock, you’d realise I’m masturbating. I’d look over to you saying, “Fucking finally. Hold my phone while I jerk off.”
You’d lay there, sick to your stomach, holding my phone across your face. Who could I be stroking my cock to, you wonder. Your friends? Your sisters? The girls… you hate? The ones you told me about. The ones that send you home from work in tears everyday? You wouldn’t need to worry. I’d use your useless, fuckhole of a mouth to jerk my cock off. I’d reduce you to a brainless, half-awake fleshlight while I think about other women. Would the disrespect make your face wet with tears or… would it make your cunt throb and ache?
You’d try to stop me. After all, you’re still a woman. You still deserve some respect, don’t you? I’d acknowledge you for the first time. I’d look down at you, as you hold up some woman to my face. And I’d laugh.
I’m letting you help me jerk off, you ungrateful bitch. I’m allowing you to pleasure me. That’s more than a pathetic, worthless three-holed cuck like you deserves, isn’t it? If you weren’t crying before now, you’d break out into hot, angry tears now while I grind into your mouth. Feeling you shudder on my cock would edge me to cumming hard inside you. When did I become so cruel, you wonder? When did I begin to hurt you like this? Were you always this pathetic? Were you always meant to serve your man other women, just to maintain your relationship?
I’d pull out, telling you I need to piss. You’d shudder, knowing what’s next. Seconds later, you’d taste my hot, bitter piss filling your mouth. The mix of cum and piss would disgust you. Not because of the taste. But because it’d be a reminder of how truly fucking pathetic you are. I’d pull out, grabbing my phone and flopping back under the covers unceremoniously. I’d tell you to shower, because even if I had to sleep next to a urinal, I’d rather it be clean.
Your heart would ache, I’m sure. The callous disregard for your humanity would make your cunt leak. And off you’d walk to the bathroom. As you stand there, in the hot, steamy shower, idly playing with your cunt, you’d think of those fairy tales. The ones where princesses married their true loves. Where men were loyal and kind. Where women were loved and respected. And you’d wonder if they were just that. Stories.