You take the panties and smell them while getting a hard on

The move is involuntary. It's a reflex honed by thousands of hours in front of a screen. Your fingers close around the flimsy fabric. It's softer than anything you've ever touched. You bring it to your face. The perfume is stronger now, cloying and sweet. There's another scent there, too. Something musky, something real. Her. The fantasy floods back in, overriding the reality of Ricky's greasy face and the messy room. This is a relic. An artifact from the goddess.

"See?" Ricky's voice is a smug drone beside you. "I told you. Now you're getting it."

You feel a pressure in your pants. The humiliation, the scent, the sheer fucking weirdness of it all, your gooner brain doesn't know how to process it, so it defaults to its only known function. Your cock gets hard. A visible tent forms in the front of your expensive new suit trousers.

Ricky notices. Of course, he notices. He chuckles, a wet, unpleasant sound. "Yeah, that's what I'm talking about." He moves back to the couch, patting the cushion next to him. "Come on. Don't be a bitch. Sit down. Let's goon."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants and shoves them down. His cock is already out, hard in his fist. He starts to stroke, slowly, lazily, his eyes glued on the massive TV screen on the wall. He clicks the remote. A video starts playing. It's porn music video of Sabrina Carpenter music videos slash with many porn scenes.

"Found your Twitter account," Ricky grunts, not even looking at you. "Good shit. Real good. You picture yourself fucking a femboi or being the femboi. I'm a switch so I can do whatever role you need pretty guy."

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