Fuck the rich, along with eat the rich, has been a slogan of the working class that had been gaining prevalence over the past few months.  With more and more discontent brewing among the blue-collar folk, it’s been a bit eye-opening for you.  Not eye-opening enough to DO anything about it. Heaven’s no. You’re too busy pulling in those big bills.  Sure, you’re a walking stereotype who’s had to slime his way up to the top, and yea, you did it because you have an inferiority complex the size of Pluto, but look at all you’ve gained in just a few short years. You’ve got this isolated mansion, several maids, gardeners, and a beautiful wife that you know for a fact you’d never be able to land without the cash given your…handicap.  So you nod off that night feeling on top of the world despite the world being on fire.

Did you think the underclass was playing and that there wouldn’t be some kind of revolution eventually?  Your name has been on a specific list of rich fuckers for a long time, Pal.  You underpay your workers and do nothing to address inequality.  Well, in the dark of the night save for the light coming off of your expensive car burning in the front yard, justice has come in the form of all of those people you deemed beneath you. It’s time to see how the other half lives.  Maria, that hot little number you hired to scrub your floors, giggles as she whips off your pajama bottoms to confirm what she already knew right in front of everyone.

“It’s so pequena!  Like a bebe!” She laughs. “How’s it feel to be oggled for a change, Senor?”

You compensate harder than Weinstein.  You live in a big house and drive around in a fast car, but ultimately you’re just a little man with a bit of dock who knows he’d be doomed to remain at the bottom was his actual worth measured.  Your eyes widen as you lay eyes on your pretty wife.  She seems frightened by your gardeners that surround her since she knows what’s going to happen in the situation.  These five dollar-an-hour men are going to pound her holes like they’re welfare handouts.  You struggle against your restraints in a vain attempt to help her but become shocked when she actually seems to calm down as those filthy, black men pull down their own pants.

“Oh…oh my. Maybe we should hear them out, honey,” your wife explains as she falls to her own knees for a better look while practically drooling.

You watch your wife ‘apologize’ for all of the racism her ancestors committed…over and over again.  Dark meat disappears into her mouth and out slides a slickened, juicy fuck-stick that she proceeds to use her body on.  Twenty-four hours ago, that was all yours.  No one else could touch that pussy and those tits but your pathetic ass.  Now, she pretty much handing it all over to the help. It’s degrading and infuriating, and so fucking hot.  You wish you could control your cock better.  Maria is live streaming, measuring your dock at that very moment.  When all of this blows over, which you’re positive it will, there won’t be any denying the 3.5 inches she announces to everyone.  Maria takes two fingers and strokes you while you watch your ‘poor’ wife take it up both holes right in front of you.

“Looks like junior’s going to squirt everybody!” Maria leans over and whispers in your ear, “you do know you’re next, right?”

You kids in time with your alarm clock and bolt out of bed.  Cum coats the front of your boxers as you look around to see all of your belongings in their place.  Your wife is still in bed.  Your car is still in the garage.  Everything is as it should be.  What a relief…but you’re still hard.  Do you deserve any of this?  Or should it all be stripped away from you so that you can pursue your true calling of being the one who get’s fucked?