Caught him hiding in the trash can again—like the pathetic little worm he is. Just lurking there, drooling over my beauty, thinking I wouldn’t notice. What a disgusting little loser.
He’s barely better than garbage… but maybe he does have one purpose.
A spit bucket.
He can sit there, filthy and low, and stare up at my perfect lips. He can worship every flick of my long, wet tongue… every bounce of my glistening uvula.
And then, I give him what he really came for—slow, heavy, wet drools and thick globs of spit, all dripping right onto his disgusting little face.
This is his heaven. My saliva, his worth.
He doesn’t deserve words. Just spit.