You've been masquerading as something you're not, lurking in the dim corners of denial. But let's shred that facade, shall we? It's just us here, and my eyes see right through your charade—you're a pitiful, cock-starved faggot, aren't you? No trace of an alpha, just a quivering bitch aching for a real man's meat to tear you apart and expose your true craven nature. Stop the pathetic act. Your wife is clueless about the filth you wallow in, how you salivate over massive, pulsing cocks as you tug on your laughable excuse for a dick in secret. She's oblivious, but I'm not. And it thrills me. I revel in twisting your sordid secrets to torment you, making you to confront the revolting truth of what you are. You're frightened, right? Scared shitless that the mask will slip and reveal your filthy essence. Good. Fear is delicious; it's the spice that makes you so delectably vulnerable, so eager for degradation. It's what compels you to return, to submit, to dissolve into the abyss of your degeneracy. Relish that fear—it's your liberation. Now, pump that pathetic cock. Gaze at those robust, succulent dicks you pretend to ignore. But we both know the truth, don't we? You can't get it up for your wife anymore, can you?