The Delusional Cuckold: Paying For Her To Date Someone Else

You want to meet her new man, but she won’t allow it.

The thought of her screaming into her pillow, getting her pussy drilled by another man, it’s all too much to not think about.

Fucking her raw? She doesn’t even let you fuck her at all. You know he gets to creampie her and you’re fucking obsessed.

You have this sick, twisted idea in your mind. One that has become so real, so possible you’ve even typed out a proposal for her and her new man, revised over and over, only to delete the whole thing before hitting send. You’re just that pathetic. How do you ask your ex and her new man for permission to pay for their lives? She has expensive tastes, you’re all too aware, and what would your place be in the world if you weren’t the one indulging all of her desires? It’s the least you can do after being such a joke in bed.

You didn’t mean to be disappointing, but the first time she let you see her naked you cummed instantly. It’s not an exaggeration. She’s let you see her since, soaking in a tub, lounging in the bed, pretending to do the dishes, but it was all so torturous you almost gouged your eyes out, as if the image of her perfection wasn’t already burned into your brain. She wouldn’t let you touch her, wouldn’t even let you touch yourself. So you existed as an uncastrated eunuch, enough to be kept around to do her bidding but never enough to be able to lay a finger in her.

Obviously she was going to forget about you. You just didn’t think it would be so…soon. You grew comfortable in your place: a pet she left at home and forgot about, fully knowing she made up your whole world. You got lost in her as she created a life without you, but it could never be that simple for you. There is no you without her, and that’s why you have to pay for her dates. It’s the only way you know how to be a speck in their perfect lives.

She won’t let you meet him but that doesn’t mean she won’t tell you how perfect he is. She’s so enamored it starts to get a little repetitive, but you could listen to her talk about his cock for days. The thing is massive. She didn’t outright say it, but when she asked you if anyone had ever told you they felt your dick in their guts you know it was over for you. The only time you had ever made a woman cum was with your mouth and fingers. The way he pipes her with his dick just isn’t fair. She’s never cried off your dick. Never had to take a break from seeing him every day just so that her pussy could recover. This was a real man… and you’re just a joke. Of course she would choose him over you.

If it were up to you, you’d be there to clean his mess out of her holes the second they finish, her thighs still hot from the friction of being pounded by a bigger, better man. There’d be so much of it everywhere and it would be your duty to clean it up. Your position in life. The best job in the world. You’re allowed to dream, even if you’re too much of a bitch to tell them you’re dying to put your tongue in her and lick all of his babies out. You’ll settle for paying for their dinner.