Sorry, Bob

"Dear Bob," the email read. "Someone sent me this video and note with the suggestion that I send it to you."

The video was professionally done. It opened with a title card. Sorry Bob, the video was called. In the background was a montage of photos of Bob groping girls in the hallways, at the coolers, in the parking lot. They dissolved into a single photo of Bob from last year's yearbook. He looked lonely and forlorn.

"Dana, send this video to Bob. Let him know that if he ever gropes another girl, this video will become a YouTube classic. Until then I'll keep it safe ready to release it with the touch of a button," read the body of the email.

The video followed. It showed Bob sitting silently in a straight chair staring straight ahead. His jeans and underwear were crumpled around his ankles. Drool was running from his mouth as he masturbated at high speed. His breathing was tortured. His face was similarly tortured as if in a rapturous state that he was barely able to endure. It was less than five minutes long. "I've always want to see your tits," he blubbered drunkenly into the empty room.

It finished with an embarrassingly small climax. The tiny bit of cum which struggled from his cock dripped down like mucus from a runny nose onto his balls. It was a pitiful ending to the effort he was putting into his masturbating.

"Sorry, Bob," the super under a close up of the tiny bit of cum on his balls read. "Maybe you can do better next time."

The video closed with a gif of the cum dribbling from his wilting penis.