That’s it… get down there. Bury your face in my sweaty socks and inhale. Deep, filthy breaths. You love how strong they smell after I’ve been wearing them all day, don’t you? I can see how hard it makes you. Good. Now stroke. Slowly. You don’t get to cum unless I say so—and you don’t stop sniffing unless I let you. My scent owns you now. I’ll tell you when to stroke harder… when to slow down… when to edge. But no matter what, you keep sniffing. Let my sweaty socks ruin you, addict you, control you. You’re mine until I say otherwise.