You’ve been denied for so long, you’d stroke to anything, and now, you will. I just got back from the gym, and no, you don’t get my feet. Not today. All you get is my filthy, sweaty sneaker. That’s what you’ve been reduced to. Jerking off to my worn shoes like the pathetic, pent up loser you are. Soak it in. Stroke for it. And when I give you that countdown? You’ll explode like the desperate, weak little toy I’ve made you.