Ten seconds, wanker. That’s all I’m giving you. Don’t waste my valuable time. I really don’t care if you cum or not. The words flash across the screen, harsh and unyielding. She stands there, arms crossed, head tilted down as she stares at her phone. The black, lace-trimmed top hugs her curves, the striped jacket hanging open, a casual yet commanding presence. Her light-colored pants blend into the natural light filtering through the glass door behind her, leading to a balcony that offers a glimpse of the urban world outside. Her posture is a statement in itself—upright, confident, almost dismissive. The way she holds herself, the slight tilt of her head, it all screams indifference. She’s not just standing there; she’s owning the space, making it clear that her time is precious and your presence is merely a fleeting inconvenience. The indoor setting, with its natural lighting, adds to the stark reality of the moment. No frills, no distractions, just the cold truth of her words and the weight of her gaze.
The Weight of Indifference
The text overlays on the image are like a punch to the gut.
Let Me Know Once You’ve Cum, Loser
I’m Not Even Going to Look at You, Loser
CUM Just CUM, You Piece of Shit
You’ve Cum Already? That’s Nice
You’ve Cum Already? That’s Nice
Proud of Your Cum Dump?
I Believe That Those Were Your Exact Words, Sweetie
She Loves Being Drenched in Cum
