Morbius sends his Horrid Regards

After the blissful yet morally absolutely disgusting encounter with Bella which was only processed by my brain hours later during the so-called "post nut clarity" and after the tiring hour-long masturbation session, I quickly entered the realm of dreams.

Strange sexual dreams of hedonism and chaos in which my craziest fantasies were brought to life as if it were a movie.

And I was the protagonist.

Orgies, demon Goddesses with six pairs of massive purple milk-tanks, huge gaping craters of assholes. The list goes on and on.

Yet the most memorable, the most traumatizing experience … was that of a buff, tall, monster-cocked Tim plowing and plowing relentlessly into my gorgeous Bella, her sweet smile distorted into a dick-crazed smirk.

Her eyes were devoid of the gentleness and kindness which inhabited them before.

Instead there was only pity.

Pity for me who would never satisfy a woman like Tim could.

Pity for me whose existence was doomed to remain in the great sex-beast's shadow.

Pity for me who pitied himself more than anyone else did.

Suddenly Tim stopped jack-hammering his fucktoy which he handled without care or warmth.

He turned towards me, a malicious glint in his eyes and said: "Wakey, wakey Luke. You have to play. Try a bit harder, will you?"