Bedroom Encounter: The Cuckold’s Perspective

This is the moment I’ve been dreading. The size of Phil’s cock is… impressive. I can’t help but stare, even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s a mix of awe and jealousy, really. And there he is, kneeling over me, his face so close to my chest. I can feel his breath, warm and steady. It’s a strange intimacy, one that I’m not sure I’m ready for. But here we are, in this soft, dimly lit room, with the weight of his presence pressing down on me. I’m just lying here, partially clothed, trying to process the reality of it all.

The Weight of His Presence

His buttocks are exposed, a stark contrast to the rest of his clothed body. It’s a vulnerable moment, yet he seems so confident, so sure of himself. I wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Is he enjoying this power he has over me? Or is there something more? I can’t read his mind, but I can feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable. It’s a moment of truth, a confession of sorts. I’m the cuckold, the one who’s supposed to clean up later. And I will, because that’s my role, my duty.

Confessions of a Cuckold

But for now, I’m just here, watching, waiting. The text on the screen, ‘Hon! Look at the size of Phil’s cock,’ echoes in my mind. It’s a command, a reminder of my place. And the promise, ‘You will clean me up later,’ hangs heavy in the air. It’s a promise I know I’ll keep, even if it’s the last thing I want to do. This is my reality, my confession. I’m the cuckold, and this is my story.