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I'm sure you have the most perfect life. A wonderful, stable life that you could quite happily put up on Instagram and feel confident that you're vague acquaintances would scroll through and be highly jealous.
You have the job that you worked hard for, slogging through degrees and qualifications and interviews, overcoming inherent biases against your sex, perhaps even your race, to achieve a level of professional satisfaction that most people will never understand. You have the partner who cares for you, who dotes on you, who is a clear communicator and an excellent listener. You go on regularly scheduled dates and exchange gifts on your anniversary and are thinking of buying a dog, because that's what established couples do. You have hobbies that you care about, a gym that you regularly go to, weekend plans with friends that aren't always about getting drunk on mimosas at a bottomless brunch.
And you hate it. Your life is so, intensely boring. Underwhelming. Repetitive and mundane.
You can't remember the last time that your heart was pounding. That you felt excited. On edge. Like you were caught in the middle of a tropical storm with no escape. You keep thinking about how you could blow it up, explode that seemingly perfect presentation of yourself, just so you could feel alive again.
You want to be a cock whore. You want to be a cum dump. You want to be chained and collared by a man who has never, and will never, give a fuck about you, beyond your holes. You want to know what it's like to be bruised and marked and branded as a slut, a bitch, a pathetic little fuck toy. You want to be used, over and over and over, until you lose track of time, until you lose track of self. Until you can only exist as a fleshlight. Until you can never remember a life before being a fleshlight.
You want me to send your friends pictures of you coated in my cum. You want me to make you tell your partner that his cock has never satisfied you, that he has never made you cum as hard as I can. You want me to email videos of you choking on my thickness to all your colleagues as your resignation letter.
You want me to ruin your life. So message me, and we can begin the process.
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- 9 months ago
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