His Big Cock Can Make Me Cum

She spits it out with that same lazy little smile she always gets right before we fuck. Says she loves me but the new guy's cock is the real deal and she's hooked. Then she adds the bait, cool as you please: I can watch. Like I’m supposed to thank her for the handout. She's already peeling off her clothes, talking between each rag she drops on the floor. Says she’ll be thinking about me the whole time his dick’s pushing deep inside. Everything, she insists—miss nothing. Calls him a stud like she’s daring me to disagree. When the sheets get messy and she’s bent over the edge, she moans my name once just to twist the knife, then tells him not to slow down because the show needs a proper ending. She makes me stand in front, eyes hot on mine while the whole room fills up with the slap of skin and the curse words she throws like applause. Her legs shake, she’s biting her lip bloody, and when she comes she’s locking onto me and nobody else—until she forces me to watch her get railed again, hungry for round two. All of it dripping between her thighs and daring me to blink first. She laughs, promises there’s room for seconds if my stiff cock's feeling brave enough, but it’s not an invitation that feels like charity. It’s a challenge dressed up like mercy.