"Handlebars? Don't say that, you can't just treat her like a sex to-" I'm trying to be HER sex toy, what the fuck are you talking about? She's walking around with 17 inches of 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘵 between her legs, and I'm first up to give it a week-long tongue bath. Yes I need some 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘴 to hold on to when she's done with the days of foreplay and has me bent over as her 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 to let out all her frustration on after dealing with those crimson heathens. I need something to steady myself when she's 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘫𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 as she spends hours thrusting into me, caressing my face and whispering "𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝙩𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙪𝙥." While I'm losing consciousness. When I'm awake again she'll just be mumbling to herself about "𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘯..." while there's already pools of her seed dripping from me, because she's too far gone to even notice how many times she's already emptied her balls into me. Her rage has clouded her mind so badly that she can't think or feel, she's struggling for relief that will never come and all she can do is pin me down in a chokehold and keep fucking me, her own cum as lubricant for the next day of mindless breeding. Again and again and again and again until her fury is sated, or my body gives out, and I'm not looking too good. It's alright though. Liquidation will come soon enough, and she'll need a new toy to break in. Fuck I hope it's me again next time.