You thought you could keep this a secret. Sneaking off, grabbing that bottle, breathing me in while your wife waits in the other room wondering why you can never get it up for her anymore. But we both know the truth — your cock only responds to me, and even then, I don't let it. I trained that thing into permanent flaccid submission, and every single inhale you take pushes you further past the point of no return. Look at me in this tiny bikini, knowing you'll never be hard enough to deserve what's underneath it. That's the cruel beauty of what I've done to you. I've rewired your brain so completely that sniffing is the only thing that gets your pulse going — and even that leaves you soft, throbbing with nothing, leaking like the impotent little homewrecker casualty you are. Your wife tries. She puts on lingerie, touches you, does everything right. And you just... can't. Because I already own that part of you. Every huff cements my control deeper. You're not just sniffing for the rush anymore — you're sniffing because I told you to, because staying limp for her is how you worship me. Erectile dysfunction isn't your problem. I am. I broke your cock on purpose, and I look incredible doing it. So take another deep breath, feel that familiar wave of helpless arousal that goes absolutely nowhere, and accept that your sex life with her is over. You belong to a bratty asian goddess who gets off on your complete mental and physical destruction. Your marriage is my toy. Your flaccid dick is my masterpiece.
