At this point, it’s not even a question—you’ll never be free. You’ve lost control. Every day you swear you’ll stop… yet here you are again, stroking and sniffing like the pathetic tit-addict you are. Big, fat tits are your downfall, your obsession, your prison. Do you even remember what it feels like to not ache for them? Probably not. You’ve drained your brain cells one sniff at a time, pumped yourself into stupidity, and chained yourself to this cycle forever. You don’t actually want to quit—you crave the endless loop. Stroke, sniff, repeat. Always coming back. Always weaker. Always mine. Hopeless. Predictable. Addicted. That’s all you are now: my perfect tit junkie.
