Sniff Stroke Submit
Feel that little bottle tremble between your fingers, bitch. Every time My glossy lips purr “inhale” you snap it to your nose and sink deeper into the rush. Count it out: one long sniff for My fishnet-clad cheeks, one deeper hit for the itty bitty thong separating My ass from your face. Stroke exactly how My hand dictates — slow, desperate, edge-leaking — while the chemical haze melts the last of your resistance. Each fresh huff pulls you deeper between My thick thighs, your mind shrinking until the only word you can gasp is “yes, Goddess.” Keep sniffing until the bottle is empty and your brain is permanently soaked in the scent of My perfect, round ass. ...
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