I woke up to the empty side of the bed, the sheets still warm from her body. The scent of her perfume lingered, a cruel reminder of the day ahead. She had left a note, a taunting promise of what was to come. ‘I’m spending the day getting royally fucked by another man. Would you be mad or turned on?’ The question hung in the air, a mocking echo of her voice. I could feel the weight of her words, the humiliation settling in my gut like a stone.
The Weight of Her Words
I spent the morning in a daze, each passing hour a torment. I imagined her, naked and spread out, her body a playground for another man’s desires. The thought of his hands on her, his cock inside her, was a knife twisting in my chest. Yet, there was something else, a perverse thrill that I couldn’t ignore. The knowledge that she was being used, that she was a slut for someone else, stirred something dark within me.
The Silent Watch
As the day wore on, I found myself unable to focus on anything but the image of her, lost in pleasure, her moans echoing in my mind. I could almost hear her, begging for more, her voice a mix of pain and ecstasy. The thought of her, a whore for his pleasure, both enraged and aroused me. I was a silent watcher, a cuckold, bound by my own twisted desires. The day ended as it began, with an empty bed and a heart full of conflicting emotions. Her pleasure, my pain, a cycle that left me both broken and strangely satisfied.
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