You came here to stroke to fabric. Not even me—just what I’m wearing. That little twitch in your tip? That heat building in your palm? It’s not because I’m naked. I’m not. I’m wearing Nike Pro Shorts. And that’s all it takes to break you. This is your worst addiction. You’re not a gooner. You’re not a simp. You’re a fabric fapper. A little beta who edges for seams and spills to synthetic outlines. You scroll for hours just to find compression shorts like mine— Tight. High-waisted. Sculpted across my ass like a second skin. And now you’re here. Desperate. Hunched over. Palmpussy clenched around your shame stick while I ruin what’s left of your dignity. Inside this clip, I take my time walking you frame by frame through the fit of my Nike Pro Shorts. The waistband. The stitching. The curve of the seam up my ass. You’ll memorize every contour. You’ll be ruined by the sound of the fabric rubbing when I move. I don’t need to take them off. I know how your little beta brain works. And yes— I pixelated the preview. Because I know how pathetic you are. You’d pump yourself dry just from the teaser if I let your greedy eyes lock onto that outline. You haven’t earned that view yet. You pay. You edge. You obey. This is your new reality: No nudity. No touching. No cumming. Just tight spandex, bratty commands, and a slow spiral into total dopamine addiction. You’ll stroke for fabric. You’ll beg for permission. And in the end… You’ll be denied. This is your ruin, addict.