I fingered the head of a dick, and he came but just like a t..

I fingered the head of a dick, and he came but just like a thick white drop of jizz came out. He swears he didn't, but he must have just jerked off before coming over. I have seen him cum before. I know how much sperm his balls generally dump. It's nothing to write home about but nothing to laugh at, either. Why was I fingering the head of his dick? Because I wanted to. We were talking on the phone, and I just got this urge to make him cum. I don't like fucking him. No matter how many times I tell him not to, he always pounds me like a jackhammer. To the point, it hurts. But I do like him, and he has a pretty dick. We measured it today. He said 7 inches, but the tape says he was mistaken. 5 1/4 inches or 13.34 centimeters for those on metric scales. Guys, you can't measure underneath to the base of the balls. It doesn't count when measured if it doesn't go in my guts. I know 7 inches and above when I see it. I have to be in the mood for dicks that big. Fortunately, I am often in that mood. Anyway, am I right, or am I right when I say he was out of cum when he came? I think I am, but I don't own a pair of testicles either, so I could be wrong. I wanted to do it again and see what came out after that, but he said he had to go pick up his kids from school. Another married dude. I dig married dudes. I don't have to worry about them hanging around. Breed me and leave me. It's the best policy. I must be getting old and cranky. Social media is annoying me like never before. The girls on it are so... I don't know... self-centered and all-important. The "Look at me, look at me, LOOK AT ME, DAMMIT!" thing going on is turning my stomach. Sure the goofy little dances and such caught my eye at first, but now it's just nauseating. The lip-syncing of what they think are profound thoughts and proclamations is what makes me want to grab a bat and... well, you know. I don't consider this social media. Social media may have gotten you here, but I'm not upselling anything. I'm not telling you happy rainbow shit and how I love everyone on the planet because I am so progressive. The truth is there are plenty of flat-out morons who are wasting available oxygen. I think I have given you what I promised you. Me. The real me. Not some made-up porn version I think you will like. You get me as Brooke the asshole, Brooke the slut, Brooke the weird, overtly sexual dresser. You get me, plain and simple. I like giving you me. I hope you enjoy getting me, but I'm sure I drive some of you up the wall as much as the Tik Tok people do me. I should just shut up right now. I will. Andrew keeps texting me. A few days ago, I told him I would text him when I got home, but I didn't. He kept reminding me that I would text him when I got home and that I hadn't texted him in a few days. I sent him a text back yesterday that I have recently become homeless. He said that wasn't funny. I told him I was completely done with him. He isn't letting it go. I think he thinks I will give in. Maybe because he has such a fat, delicious dick, he thinks I won't be able to hold out. He does have an amazingly fat and tasty cock, and I like the way his sperm feels in my throat. It's sticky. But I can hold out. Permanently. I got to see who he really is and that shrunk his fat cock into a tiny little crayon of a penis for me with testicles full of horseradish. Which is funny because personality can turn a not-to-handsome guy with a 3-inch skinny weenie into a hefty log slinging sweet syrup in my guts stud. Andrew went in reverse. I don't even find him physically attractive anymore. Weird how the mind can override physical attributes when it finds what it likes.