Your poor marriage doesn’t stand a chance when you kneel to Me. She nags, she nags, and I make it simple: disappoint her or please Me. You know which you’ll pick—stroke for the bigger, bouncing breasts that demand worship and watch your loyalty unravel with every desperate pump.
Let My tits be the ruin of your domestic life. Stroke until you goon, until your head empties and your promises mean nothing. How much of your marriage will be left when I’m finished? Exactly what you let Me take.