But don't misunderstand," I say, my words low and filled with a cold, cruel delight. "This isn't about you. It's about me. About the pleasure I derive from your utter degradation, from your humiliation, from your submission. You're not sucking your friend because you want to, you're doing it because I want you to. You're becoming a gay man not out of some personal realization, but because it's my twisted, perverse fantasy. It's a game to me, one where I hold all the cards, and you're just a pawn."

"Look at yourself," I continue, the bitter edge of my words filling the room. "On you...

But don't misunderstand," I say, my words low and filled with a cold, cruel delight. "This isn't about you. It's about me. About the pleasure I derive from your utter degradation, from your humiliation, from your submission. You're not sucking your friend because you want to, you're doing it because I want you to. You're becoming a gay man not out of some personal realization, but because it's my twisted, perverse fantasy. It's a game to me, one where I hold all the cards, and you're just a pawn."

"Look at yourself," I continue, the bitter edge of my words filling the room. "On your knees, taking your friend's cock like a desperate slut. The way he fucks your mouth, without any regard for your comfort or pleasure. He doesn't see you as a person, but as a thing, a toy to play with. He takes what he wants, and leaves you broken and spent. And the worst part? You're enjoying it. You revel in it, in your degradation, in your humiliation. It's pathetic. It's disgusting. But oh, isn't it just so delightful?"