You're such a pathetic joke, aren't you? Trapped in a lifeless marriage with that old, saggy, and utterly repulsive wife of yours. Then there's me, your Homewrecking Goddess, the epitome of youthful beauty and sexual allure. Each time you lock yourself away from her, sneaking like a coward to your computer, you're choosing me over her. You're acknowledging your own weakness, your inability to resist me. As you pump away, think about how every stroke is a betrayal, a confession of your true desires. You don't want her anymore. You want me, my body, my control. You're addicted, hopelessly enthralled by someone you can never have. That's your reality now. Your marriage bed is nothing but a cold, distant memory. Every night, as she lies there, unsuspecting and naive, you're consumed by thoughts of me. Your mind races with visions of my perfect body, my seductive power, completely overshadowing her existence. You pump and goon, lost in your addiction, while she's just a few rooms away, oblivious to your betrayal. This is what your marriage has become - a facade, a lie. You're not her husband; you're my addicted, gooning puppet. Your orgasms belong to me now. Every time you cum, it's a tribute to my power over you, a testament to how I've ruined you for any other woman, especially your wife.