Stop fighting it. You are what you are and it is what it is. And I get you. I understand your fetish, the psychology behind what actually makes your cock hard. And of course, I’m going to exploit it.
You’re conditioned to feel your cock twitch at my middle finger. I throw up the L-oser sign and you start to grow. You love tits, ass, pussy, and feet but you know your loser place and it’s jerking off to my bratty bitchy attitude and my humiliating tease. You can’t enjoy your jerk without being completely emasculated and dehumanized. Purely pathetic.
You follow all my online accounts, constantly refreshing. Refresh, refresh, refresh. You can’t get enough. You stalk my every move. There’s a word for that, fanboy. It’s called obsession.
And it’s taking over. It’s not enough to sit back and watch my every move. You crave to be involved with me, to chat with me. You reach out and msg me for a quick session. Small tributes begin to grow into more and more until I’ve completely taken over your real life and your wallet. It’s never enough, fanboy. And this is just the beginning.