‌

You are wearing sexy trousers and little socks, and a tail and red lipstick. You know it drives me crazy. You describe the reactions of your friends after you told them about me, my small penis, and what a loser I am to pay you to wank watching only your socks, and having my orgasm ruined. And you smile about how my little penis gets stiff when you tell me this. It can only get hard for you. And it looks so pathetic when it is so small, but standing up, quivering, so eager for sex, which it will never get. It will always be my fingers. And always for Marisa. You ask how it felt to watch the porn you instructed, without masturbating, for three days. Am I horny? Desperate now? You remind me that I am sexually useless, as I am also a premature ejaculator. And to rub it in, you will remind me how I have no control. You start teasing me and instructing me to masturbate. You want me to try not to cum. You tease me, lick your lips, take off your trousers, and you let me see your panties. You let me sniff, rub in my face, bring me up close. You know I will lose control completely. You laugh at how frantically I wank my little starved and desperate penis. You know your panties and your teasing and humiliation make me lose control. You encourage me to keep control, to keep my sperm in my balls, to make the pleasure from my masturbation last. But I fail, of course. You laugh so much when my little dick shoots a big cascade of sperm. I have to thank you again.