Say it with that shaky little voice of yours. Tell him how pathetic your tiny cock is—how it’s such a joke that I can’t even pretend to enjoy it anymore. You know I need to be stretched and filled by someone who actually knows how to handle me—not teased with your soft, useless little thing while I fake moans to spare your fragile ego. You know I’ve moved on to better. And deeper. And stronger. It’s so cute the way you cling to the hope that I might let you touch me again someday. But why would I, when I’ve got this real man taking care of all my needs? He doesn’t ask. He takes. I love it. I melt for it. You’re left in the corner, stroking your embarrassment while I scream for someone else. That’s the only role that suits you anymore—my quiet, obedient little spectator.
Oh, and baby? He knows about your little cleanup routine. I told him all about it. How you wait patiently, pathetically, for him to finish using me so you can crawl over, tongue out, begging for the chance to clean every last drop of his cum off his thick cock like the good little slut you are. I bet that made you twitch, didn’t it? Tell him how much you love being humiliated for me. How much do you need to be put in your place? Because let’s be honest—you’ve never turned me on the way this does. You’ve never made me f eel like a goddess, a prize, a treasure the way he does. You? You’re just the audience. The background noise. The reminder of everything he is that you’re not.
So go ahead. Let it all out. Be the flirty, filthy little cuck I know you are. Say the things we both know are true—because the more you humiliate yourself for me, the more I enjoy every second of it. And who knows? If you’re a really good cuckold phone sex boy tonight… I might even let you listen when he takes me again. Call me
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Savannah Steele