Inviting Her Over for Your Birthday
I’d invite her over for your birthday. I’d wake you up with breakfast in bed, showering you with soft kisses and gentle words, giving you hope for once. And then you’d hear the bell ring. Your heart would drop. An hour later, you’d be trudging along behind us. Your eyes filled with bitter, angry tears while I gush over your friend. This is what you deserve for being such a pathetic cuck, isn’t it? You’d watch us laugh and talk as if we’d stepped out of a painting. You’d never fit in. You’d never see me laugh as passionately as I laugh with other women. With your own friends.
I’d ignore you but talk about you loudly, constantly. I’d talk about how awful you are in bed. How much of a stupid fucking cockmutt you are. How much of a leech you are for asking for a cake. I’d notice you glaring at me intensely.
I’d drag you to the nearest public toilet and throw you into a stall. I’d step in, your friend laughing lightly right behind me. I’d roughly bend you over the loo, holding you in place by your hair, no matter how much you struggle. I’d tell you to shut the fuck up or I’d take your ass today. Maybe you’d keep quiet while I thrust in and out of your sloppy, wet cuck cunt but watching your friend finger-fuck herself to your abuse would make you break out into tears again.
I hope you’d enjoy your surprise. The pain. The humiliation. Every single second of it. This is the best you can hope for, after all.