I know your dirty little secret. You have an undeniable urge to worship my sweaty, pungent socks. As I slowly peel back my sweaty socks off my feet, your boy seizes up with excitement. You know that your purpose lies in submission to me.
You kneel before me as I taunt and tease you - thanking me profusely as I rub my ripe smelling socks across your face. The aroma envelopes you and your bodily senses are overwhelmed with pleasure. You know that in this moment, nothing else matters besides submitting yourself to my sweaty socks.