I’m laid out by the pool, soaked in oil, my body glistening in the sun like some bratty, untouchable goddess. My tiny bikini barely covers anything—but I don’t move. I don’t beg. I don’t even look at you. I just stretch, smirk, and let the soft elevator music play while your cock starts throbbing like the needy little thing it is. You stroke while I stay deliciously indifferent.Teasing your desperation, knowing you’d do anything just to hear me tell you what to do. I talk slow. Soft. Condescending. Like I know your cock’s already leaking just from watching me breathe. You’re not in control. You’re not cool. You’re just a sweaty little stroker, edging yourself raw to a girl who barely acknowledges you. And when I finally do speak? You cum so fast, you almost miss it.