Your eyes bulge at her comment and she laughs right in your face, knowing how much that suggestion would drive you wild. Pulling on her running shoes and turning to leave, she calls back, “Bye Johnny, be a good boy now, okay?”
The door slams shut and for one moment you wish you had been asked to put her running shoes on her as well, so you could have stolen a sniff of their insides. Right away though, both your throbbing boner and your pounding heart remind you of your even better prize, and you practically run to the master bedroom and find the door to Mistress Powers’ closet. You can smell the hamper before you can even see it, and it lights up your erotic senses so much that you drop to your knees on the carpet and crawl the rest of the way, sniffing like a dog on a hunt.
There it is, on the left side of her closet against the wall and under some clothes that are hung on hangers on a rod above. You can’t even believe your eyes… she must keep her other clothes somewhere else because this hamper is full to the brim with nothing but every type of sock you could imagine, all used. Most are just slightly soiled rather than outright dirty, but universally they smell with only slight variations on a heavy, noxious foot odor. It must be the strongest you’ve ever smelled in one place, of that there is no doubt.
You’re practically salivating, and every beat of your heart can be felt in your throbbing cock. Again acting on the instincts that come from your erotic senses, you quickly strip off all of your clothes before sticking your head face first in the hamper. Stinking cotton completely surrounds you all the way down to the neck, and you slowly move your head around feeling countless points of contact with the goddess’s essential essence.
Your erotic senses are completely overwhelmed by the submersion in the closest possible thing to a container full of pure girl power. You reach to start stroking your cock but the moment you touch yourself, the sensation is so electric that you know you’ll cum immediately with even just one stroke. By some miracle, or maybe by her own suggestive manipulation, you know you cannot disobey her by letting your body submit before she returns. As if her verbal commands are somehow transmitted through her girly odor left on these socks, you pull your head out before the socks make your untouched cock explode.
You feel almost regretful as your lungs fill with fresher air for the first time in at least a minute. Looking longingly down at the hamper, you start to rifle through it surveying its contents more closely. You mumble each new type of sock you recognize as they pass through your hands: “Ankle, ped, crew, knee highs, thigh highs, fuzzies, sheer, toesocks, runners, nylons…” There are solids, striped, polka dotted, and a variety of patterns and even some with characters or animal depicting in the stitching. As you rummage through, you lift ones that particularly catch your attention to your nose for a dedicated sniff.
Again wanting to experience them all at once, you lay down on your back and grab both sides of the hamper, turning it over onto yourself and dumping its entire contents to cover your body. You spread them just a bit so that from head to toe, you are practically covered with the goddess’ used footwear. While the scent is not as powerful as when your head was submerged, you’ve never felt anything like the erotic sensation of having nearly every inch of your body caressed and swaddled by the dozens of types of cotton, wool, polyester, silk, nylon, and even latex which you hand’s noticed before.
Your body begins to involuntarily shake, roll and thrust about in the pile. You can’t help but let out a moan of sublime overstimulation as every one of your erotic senses are dominated by the experience. All except your cock, which despite throbbing and standing rock hard straight up, actually sticks out of the pile. You know you will cum in no time if you start to stroke, and you imagine even just pulling one smelly silky used sock down over your member would result in a sock full of cum and empty balls that would infuriate Mistress Powers.
Totally blissed out yet totally frustrated at your prohibition on cumming, you imagine yourself swimming in a sea of used socks, constantly overstimulated in every way by their smell, their taste, their appearance, their touch, and even the silky sounds they make rubbing together and against your nude skin. Rather than jerking off as you would have imagined when you dreamed this situation, you instead let yourself sink deeper into that swimming fantasy, entering a kind of dreamlike hypnotic state that could only come about surrounded by this girl power which you let dominate your mind and body.
Minutes, hours, or days could have passed when you are snapped out of the deep trance by a female voice from the closet entrance saying, “Johnny?”
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