Matt’s tiny voice cuts through the dense air, muffled by the coarse fabric of the jockstrap. “It’s… intense! Smells… strong, but I’m fine!” The words are small but defiant, and Jacob’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and admiration.
“Fine, huh? You’re one tough little dude,” Jacob drawls, his voice low and warm, laced with that teasing edge. He doesn’t pull Matt away—instead, he keeps him right there, pressed gently but firmly against the taut pouch where the jockstrap hugs his inner thigh. The heat radiating from his skin is like a furnace, the damp fabric slick with sweat and pulsing with the raw, earthy musk of his body. Every breath Matt takes is heavy with that scent—musk, salt, and the primal weight of Jacob’s presence, amplified by the tight, humid confines.
Jacob shifts his weight slightly, his thick thighs spreading just a bit wider, making the fabric pull tighter and press Matt deeper into the weave. The coarse texture scrapes lightly against Matt’s tiny form, and the warmth feels almost alive, enveloping him completely. The lingering scent of the fart still hangs in the air, sharp and heavy, but it’s the sweating musk that dominates now—a slow, creeping intensity that clings to Matt’s senses, rich and unyielding.
“You holding up, shrimp?” Jacob asks, his tone playful but attentive, his eyes flicking down to gauge Matt’s reaction. He tilts his head, watching closely, ensuring Matt’s resilience is still intact. “This is the real deal—my scent, my heat, all up close. Not too much for ya, is it?” His voice carries a hint of challenge, but the care in his gaze is unmistakable.
Matt squirms slightly, his tiny body adjusting to the overwhelming environment. “It’s… a lot!” he squeaks, voice strained but determined. “Smells like… pure you. But I’m still here!” His defiance draws a low chuckle from Jacob, who keeps him pinned there, letting the heat and musk work their magic. The air grows heavier with every passing second, the dampness of the jockstrap intensifying as Jacob’s body heat builds.
“Damn, you’re something else,” Jacob murmurs, his tone a mix of amusement and respect. He eases the pressure just enough to give Matt a moment to breathe, but doesn’t move him, keeping him immersed in the raw, sweaty musk. “Let’s see how long you can ride this out, tiny. I’m impressed.” His voice is warm, ensuring Matt knows he’s safe, even as the sensory overload continues to test his limits.
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