How To Be A Boi Bitch Lesson 07


You understand now, don’t you?

That to be a bitch is not all about the fuck.

Even if the fuck is everything, my darlings. But remember, patience makes the bitch. And you will need to be. Patient. which is something that straight men are too lazy, too intellectually fat to understand. Why a whore shouldn’t respect them. They are not cocks, just dicks. So many of them I have seen. So many I have met. When they were married. When courtship was over. And their asses started to bulge in most revolting ways, first in their jeans, then in sweat pants. With big bellies full of beer, and fridges full of fast food. and without eyes, without thought for their wives, for their girlfriends.

Without respecting them. And without respect for themselves.

Fat, lazy slobs who ogle the secretary, their cocks shrivelled up too much to be of any use to anybody. And secure in their deluson that every woman spreads her legs just as much as they spread open their wallets. To buy themselves those quick five minutes, panting over the copier machine, having one of their assistants being very personal for just the right number of gifts, the higher salary. Assistants who are not whores, but hookers in everything but name, hustling for a better position as their boss spurts empty seed into them.

You are not one of these men. Not anymore. Not since you have tasted the glory of your boi bitch inside of you. You now know how much will be awaiting your inner whore, but now I will teach you that you’ll have to work at it. That it takes you all of your dedication, all of your devotion, all of your soul.


Make-up. Gaziantep Elden Ödeme Alan Escort Lipstick. Clothes. Jewellery. Dressing. Strutting. All of these things have taken your wife, your girlfriend years to perfect. They perfected them not only for themselves but also for you. Have you ever respected that, my darlings? The hours of painful waxing? The weeks of practice it took them to perfect their eye shadow? To paint their lips? The look they gave you when you first met? Half-open eyes in colours and blacks that promised you so much? The bodies that rose up underneath the tight skirts? How much work went into all of that?

And what have you done? How little did you have to work at yourself? As a straight man. Is it any wonder that women find you lazy? Selfish? When your shopping has consisted of little more than The Gap. Khakis and polo shirts. Boxers of briefs. Socks and sneakers. This is what fills your closet. Look at these sad excuses for clothing that you wrap yourself in, shapeless sacks of linen and cotton. Easy to wear, never easy on the eyes.

Look at them, bitch!

Look at them with my eyes. With the eyes of your wife. This is the filth you have turned into. This is how you let yourself go! If clothes make the man, what kind of a man have you become?

This is what is still pushing the bitch inside you into that little box, hidden and closed up. Burning inside.

I will burn that straight face away from you, my darlings.

Open up your closet with me. Let me stand behind you. The ghost of your future. Let me undress you. I want you to be naked for this. I want you to become born. Born again. Feel how my hands open you up. Your shirt. My hands travel underneath it. Up to your chest. Do it with me. Touch yourself as you undress. As fingers slide into your boxers, which have been far too loosely wrapped around your ass, Your wife, your girlfriend, they love your ass. So do I. And you hide it. Let me pull them down. Free you. From what you were. I a closet now longer closed. Surrounded by what will soon be only memories. Bad dreams from another life.

Hm. Let me scratch the base of your cock. Let me feel it twitch. Yes. Like that. Let your hands become mine. Be naked. Be truthful to what you will be. And say it as your hands grip yourself. Say it with opened eyes.

“This no longer me.”

That slob who lives in your closet. You hate him, don’t you? He has taken up so much space, so much of your life, has eaten away at your soul. You hate him, and so do I. We should punish him, my darlings. Punish him for what he did to us. For encasing us. Limiting us. This is what I did when i was still you. And now, I want you to do it with me.

Stroke your cock with me. And look at your past. To which you will never go back. Now that you know. With what this closet should be filled. No longer hidden. No longer pushed aside. By that slob in his clothes.

I want you to soil him with me. Hm. Yes. Darlings. That is what he deserves. That pathetic excuse of a man you once were. Let me slide my finger into your cunt. While you look at him. stroke yourself harder, my darling bitch. Show him what you think of him.

Cum on the clothes that have entrapped you.

While I am massaging your cunt. Say it with me.

“This is no longer me.”

I want you to cum. I want you to cum in anger. And squirt all your bitch seed over him. His clothes. His socks. His sneakers and shirts. Spray them in fury. Like I do. Feel it rise up inside you. Boiling. Burning. And release it. Now. Cum.

Does it hurt? Good. I want it to hurt. I want it to be furious.

As you spray your clothes, your past with your bitch cum.

Doesn’t it feel good? Oh, yes. I know it does. I have done it. And now, so have you.

I can hear you pant, my darlings. To release it like that, you have never felt this alive, have you?

But we are not done. Not while you are still stroking your cock. Now wet and softening. And feeling what it does after a good cum. Slide your fist around it. And don’t fight that feeling. Use it. Worship it.

Release it again. Your piss. Yes. I want you to piss. Doesn’t it make you feel strong? Powerful? Sexy? Some day, some day soon, you will be doing this to your lover. I wish it could be me. Some day, you pissing will be an act of delight. An act of love. An act of the most decadent depravity. When you do it to a slave. A sissy. Or a man or woman who worships you.

But not today.

Today you do it to mark your territory.

Piss on it. Piss on your own past. Already soiled. But I want you to show me, to show yourself how little that slob in your closet is worth. Nothing, my darlings. He is worth nothing. Wouldn’t even be worthy to be the slave of your bitch cock. To see him leave will be a relief. Relieve yourself. All over him.

Because that closet then will be all yours.

And that’s where we will start next time. The next lesson.

In your closet.

By dressing you up again.

Step by step.

You’ll be such a doll, my darling.

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