What are you to me? Nothing. I don’t even notice you. You’re a doormat, a piece of furniture, a footstool. I hardly even acknowledge your existence. You’re just something for me to absent minded toy with as I chat with my girlfriend on the telephone and as I do other more private things to myself. And the most incredible thing is that you just take it. You just lie there as i step on your cock, rub my sweaty feet in face and shove my pretty little toes down your throat. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be so obedient that you just accept this like a mistreated pet still loyal no matter how cruel his mistress is. Is your cock hard? I don’t even care. Do my dirty feet taste bad? Good. Am I making you gag when I shove my foot in your mouth? Who gives a fuck? Not me. Just lie there until I get off and then get the fuck out. Or don’t…it’s not like it matters to me.