You're with your boyfriend because he's sweet. And you say that you like sweet.

You're with your boyfriend because he's thoughtful. And you say you like thoughtful.

You're with your boyfriend because he's kind and empathetic and caring. And you say you like kind and empathetic and caring.

You can't quite remember your first date. Or when you became attracted to him. Or why you agreed to move in with him. Or why you put up with his constant talk of marriage and building a future together.

You do remember not cumming. Ever.

The sex is a perfect personification of him. Gentle and considerate and so intensely, overwhelmingly boring. You lie there as he enters you, not posh enough to be a pillow princess, not dirty enough to be a whore. He climaxes inside you and you reassure him that it was long enough, don't worry darling, I'm perfectly satisfied.

And then he falls asleep and you remember your ex. The one who saw you as nothing more than a piece of fuckmeat. The one who didn't care about your needs. The one who would bend you over without any provocation and take what he wanted from all of your holes. You would be left with trembling legs and a blank mind and a pussy filled with cum.

So your hand sneaks between your legs and you end up biting down on your pillow to prevent you from screaming out when you climax to being used like the desperate little slut you know you are.

You can only cum when you're cheating. Which is why you message me. To give you what you're missing in your relationship.