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You really messed up today, babe. Leaving me stranded at the gym like that? Making me walk all the way home in this heat, my heart rate still pounding, my skin flushed and dripping? My body is c*mpletely drenched, every inch of me slick with salty sweat from that intense workout, and now you're going to face the very intimate consequences of your forgetfulness. But I've decided your punishment isn't going to be some boring lecture or cold shoulder. No, I've thought of something much more effective, something that will teach you to never leave me waiting again while giving us both exactly what we need. From now on, your face is going to become my personal throne. My sweaty, post-gym *ss is going to be your new daily ritual, your mandatory religion, the thing that structures your entire day. You wanted to make me s*ffer through that walk home? Now you'll spend every evening making it up to me by worshipping exactly where all that sweat accumulated—the deepest, most private part of me. Get down on your knees and press your nose right between my warm, damp cheeks. Inhale deeply. Hold it. That's the scent of your negligence mixed with my natural, raw musk after a hard workout, and you're going to learn to crave it. Look closely at how my tight *sshole glistens with perspiration, all pink and swollen and inviting yet c*mpletely in control of your world now. Watch it wink and pulse as you hover near, knowing you haven't earned the taste yet. This isn't just a punishment anymore, b*by. This is your new routine, your atonement. Every single day when get home from the gym, you're going to be here, waiting, desperate to bury your face in my *ss and apologize properly with actions instead of words. Then you'll l*ck. Slow, deliberate, worshipful strokes starting from the bottom, cleaning every salty drop of sweat from my skin, working your way to the center where the flavor is most concentrated. Feel how soft yet firm my cheeks are as they envelop your face, sm*thering you in heat and scent. Taste the sharp bitterness of my workout on your tongue as you circle closer to my *sshole, teasing me, showing me how patient you can be when you're trying to make things right. When you finally press your tongue flat against my tight h*le, you'll feel it flutter and pulse against your mouth, controlling exactly how much access you get. My sweaty *ss becomes your altar, and your tongue becomes the instrument of your redemption. You'll do this daily, without complaint, without being asked, until the mere thought of picking me up late makes you panic because you know you'll miss your chance to taste my post-gym perfection. My *sshole will be the first thing you think about when you wake up and the last thing you service before bed, your tongue probing deep to show me you're committed to never making this mistake again.

Geruchs Fetisch Männer Folgen Regeln Furzen Sweaty Gym *sshole Worship mit C4s.com