This is an erotica written by Dobby. It may, or may not be true 😉  No content was changed from original submission.

Dobby is such a needy fuck. He gets me angry when I am busy earning a living and he insists on inserting himself and his cock-hungry ways into my life. I decided today that he should pay a price so I calmly let him think he had some rights to do so.

I had to work today and like the sorry whore he is, he unreliably didn’t show up to entertain me and my friend this morning. That shit irks me to no end so I told him he better get in his car and meet me at work. Wednesday’s are unbearably slow which was annoying to me on so many levels because I wanted Dobby to have the largest audience possible but the shit show must go on.

When he arrived he looked like any other guy that enters the place, meaning vanilla as fuck but I had seen him in so many humiliating states that the moment I looked at him he might as well have had a neon sign on his head that said ‘insert dick here’.
Let’s not forget that this is the same sorry cum guzzler that dipped his tongue into my lover’s day old condom and nearly begged me to post it on my website. Fuck, I don’t even have to make this shit up. Because of who I am, this shit happens like Pixar magic.
So here the closet faggot is. In front of me. Perplexed like it is a mystery that I had him drive over midday to my place of employment. I can already read his simple mind that he thinks a polite apology is going to do the trick and he can head back home to the safety of his home where his wife fucks coworkers and he dreams of having another mysterious dirty condom arrive in the mail for him to drool over. I love owning this bitch.
I had some customers so I told him he has two things to do before he is dismissed. First, he is going to go into the ladies room and wait naked.
The fuck got all excited. Reward blinking like flashing Christmas lights in his eyes. But little did he know…

I was the first to enter. I saw that he obliged and his clothes were off like he was finally getting some at prom night. I quietly took his clothes, pulled out a sharpie marker and expertly wrote ‘insert here’ framed about his lips. Have a look in the mirror I instructed and that ‘get lucky’ look vanished from his face.
I told him to hold the marker and set a timer for 30 minutes before walking across the hall to the men’s room. Hope drained from his Laci-owned ass.
For the next 30 minutes, every informed woman was invited to visit Dobby and express themselves with the marker he would provide. If only had the forethought to take a picture because he looked like a tattooed welcome sign for hungry men who wanted to spill their seed in and on him.
Nothing more satisfying than to then hear his phone alert him to move across the hall to the men’s room and like clockwork a flash of pale skinned entertainment flashed across the hall. This is where Dobby needed no guidance.
He most likely hid in a stall but what is the point because every man I sent in there knew what the special offerings were. Dobby might as well had hung out by the sink because everyone who would be entering would be requesting him by name.
I was still pissed so I decided that each guy who went in would take a photo of Dobby in their favorite slut pose and post it to my Twitter.
I figured 30 minutes could do the trick to break the fucking Internet and true to form my twitter feed lit up like visits to a porn site.
Tattooed Dobby with a cock stuffed in his eye bugging face. Dobby looking up giving a heartfelt handjob. Dobby sitting on the toilet getting face fucked. Dobby leaning on the sink getting pegged from behind. Dobby slapping a cock on his face. Even one of Dobby licking balls by the urinal.
And no one spared their cum as he was dressed better than icing on a fucking gourmet cupcake.

When it was all said and done, I let him dress because there was no hiding the mess of marker and cum all over his face. I figured his work was done until I realized how symbolic it would be to have him stop at the bar and shout out “Drinks on me!” I’d say.

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