Ich lass meinen mann für einen stier: Größerer schwanz, besseres leben

I'm sitting on the bed in my blue tank top and cutoff jeans, casual, calm, and completely done. I look my husband in the eye and drop the bomb. “I met someone. He's hot. He's confident… and his cock is massive.” I've had enough of half-hearted orgasms and pretending I'm satisfied while his tiny dick fails me night after night. So, I'm done. I'm divorcing him. And I'm marrying the bull, the real man who can actually fill me, stretch me, and make me scream the way I deserve. He gets hard just hearing about it, pathetic, and starts stroking himself like a desperate little worm. I stop him with a slap to the wrist. “You don't get to touch yourself to this. Not anymore.” Then, I pull out my phone, call my bull, and whisper: “He's out. The house is clear. Come claim what's yours.” This isn't just a fantasy, this is the revenge of an unsatisfied wife. And I've never been more turned on.