Wife’s Massive Tits Spilling Out in Bed

Her tits, huge and floppy, spill out over the edge of the bed. They’re just there, hanging, like a fucking invitation. I can’t help but stare, even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s like she doesn’t even care, or maybe she just wants me to see. The way they sag, it’s almost obscene. And the room, it’s warm, too warm, like the heat is making everything more intense. The sheets are a mess, all twisted and turned, just like my thoughts. I can’t stop thinking about how she got like this, how she let herself go. It’s like she’s daring me to say something, to do something. But I don’t. I just watch, feeling like a fucking idiot.

Her Body, My Torment

Her body, it’s a fucking masterpiece, even if she doesn’t see it that way. The way her belly curves, the way her arm rests, it’s all so fucking natural. Like she’s just lying there, waiting for someone to come and take her. But it’s not me. It’s never me. I’m just the cuck, the one who watches and waits. The one who gets hard just from looking at her. It’s a fucking curse, really. To want something so badly and know you can’t have it. The wires, the wallpaper, the fucking lamp, it’s all just background noise. It’s her, it’s always her. Her tits, her body, her fucking presence. It’s all I can think about.

The Room, Our Secret

The room, it’s our secret. The place where she lets herself go, where she becomes someone else. Someone wild, someone free. And I’m here, watching, always watching. The bed, the sheets, the fucking pillows, they’re all witnesses to her pleasure. To the way she lets herself be taken, used. It’s a fucking torture, really. To know that she’s there, that she’s mine, but that she’s not. That she never will be. Not like that. Not the way she wants. The way she needs. And I’m just here, a fucking spectator, a cuck in the shadows. Watching, waiting, wanting. It’s a fucking nightmare, really. But it’s my nightmare. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.