We’re playing a game with one simple rule: you can’t stop the cum. You just keep stroking and stroking. No edging or stopping, no slowing down.

Pump Pump Pump

I don’t care how hot it gets either. You’re not holding back, you’re not fighting the urge to blow. And even after it all squirts out, you don’t stop the cum. You don’t stop the stroke.

Pump Pump Pump

You committed to this. This is the only time I’ll ever over ride my specific denial instructions for you.

Blow and blow and blow until all that pleasure becomes horrible excruciating pain.

Foot boy kneels and listens intently as I describe my recent sexcapade with my lover.

Do you think you could every kiss my feet as passionately as he kisses my body? Could you tongue the bottom of my foot the way he ran his tongue up and down my body. A foot bitch on his knees begging to worship my feet doesn’t even compare to my lover’s pleasure. So humiliating hearing about it yet so hot being humiliated by it.

Kiss them nice and delicately, gentle little kisses to put me in the mood. I want it sweet and sensual before you get down and dirty sucking my toes. You’d love to ravish my feet and make sweet, sweet love to them the way my lover took me. But in no way does a foot boy compare.

When I’m happy, you’re happy. Do. It.

No humiliation. No games. Just watch and listen. My fingertips stroking the edge of the satin material as your fisst strokes your cock. Up and down with me.

Bouncing. Stroking.

Stroke when instructed and enjoi my perfect tits.



Be a good pay piggy.

A good piggy for me.

You want to stroke to me, not her.

Stroke to me. Give into me. Release it for me.