Feel the weight of it, the heat radiating through the screen.
Now, let’s talk about you. You’re nothing compared to this. Your pathetic little excuse for a dick is laughable. Soft, pink, and utterly useless next to this masterpiece. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You’re here to worship, to crave, to know your place. And your place is on your knees, eyes locked on this throbbing shaft, your mind empty of everything but pure, helpless desire.
I’m in control here.
My gloves trace the veins of his cock like they’re mapping out your submission. Each pulse, each throb, is a reminder of what you’ll never have. You can almost taste the pre-cum dripping from the head, salty and superior. But you won’t. You’re denied. Edged. Aching. And you love every second of it.
This is pure bisexual reprogramming. A reminder of who you are and who you’ll never be. Alpha cock worship is your religion now. Feel it deepen. Let it consume you. Your mind is melting, your body is mine, and your orgasm now belongs to me. So stroke. Slowly. Feel the shame burn hotter with every touch. And then stop. Hands off. You don’t deserve release. You deserve to ache, to crave, to send your tribute and prove your devotion.
