No sooner do I answer why I like Jake's dick breeding me tha..

No sooner do I answer why I like Jake's dick breeding me than I get the question…" Why do you like being so mean to Scott?" Look, I get it, I am not everyone's kind of jizz bucket. Scott knew that when he married me. I admit that it's a sick, twisted high, one I can't get enough of—humiliating Scott is an obsession that burns through me. There's something so deliciously twisted and sexually charged about spreading your legs for another man, letting him plunge into you, not just letting him but wanting him to pump me full of his sperm. I can feel every pulse, every spurt, knowing it's not Scott's—like I have been conquered, and I'll carry home the proof of his conquest with his jizz dripping down my thighs. The physical act is extraordinary, feeling the stretch of my pussy as it grips that another man's cock, the wet slap his dick makes, the way my body betrays Scott every time another man makes me orgasm. The best part physically is the way my cunt clenches the cock of the stud breeding me as he unloads deep inside me. Marking what is his with his cum. I don't clean up after—I let the jizz stay wet and sticky between my thighs because I know what's coming next, and that is taking it home to Scott.

But it's more than just the fucking. It's the mental game that sets my core on fire. Walking through that door, still slick and messy from being fucked stupid by a superior man, I can picture Scott's pathetic face…knowing that what once belonged to him has now been taken away…again by another man. I love spreading my legs open for him. Let him see the cum from another man's testicles dried on my thighs and still sticky and slick in my pussy. I like to scoop that thick testicle cream from my fucked-out hole, showing Scott my fingers before I smear it across his lips, his cheeks, and his dignity. The power is incredible and addicting—knowing he's compelled to taste another man's triumph, making him understand in no uncertain terms that he's nothing compared to the studs who've claimed you. It's an obsession because it's control. Is it sadistic? Sure, but the power trip…I live for it. Every drip of cum I rub into his face removes a little more of his manhood, a reminder that I own him—not just his body, but his mind, his shame, his everything. And fuck, if that doesn't make a girl wet and ready to do it all over again…I don't know what will! Sorry about the long answer, but it is what it is.