Tom stands in front of the closet mirror in his hotel room, pulling a black sweat shirt over his head and standing to inspect his appearance. He wears a loose-fitting pair of white Nike basketball shorts and some off-white, worn old running shoes. You sit perched on the corner of the bed, rigid and sick with fear. "Ok, little dude." He says in a positive tone, "Let's go!" He scoops you up and stretches the waistband of his shorts and underwear. Though you're a proud guy and promised yourself you wouldn't do this, squeals of begging burst out of you as you push frantically for one last chance. "I can't!! Please!! I'll do anything else but NOT this, man, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPL-" He chuckles down at you, ignoring your clenched, praying hands, and rubs a huge, salty-tasting thumb all over your face. "Aww, look at that. You are just as cute as a button when you beg, little dude! Have fun and make sure ya drink lots of Master's sweat!" Tom drops you and lets the waistband go.... The sun beats down on Tom's back as he jogs at high speed down the street, droplets of sweat falling from his nose and pooling in big patches across his back and under his armpits. As Tom pants steadily for air, though, you gasp for it.. By now you've slid underneath his huge, considerably hairy ball sack, which knocks mercilessly against your face with every step Tom takes. Gallons of sweat pour over you from Tom's couped up dick and balls, and, with your body sopping wet, you're forced to down bucketload after bucketload of the strong-tasting, salty liquid. The unique smell of Tom's genitals has been eternally imprinted on the memory of your senses. The stench is thick and hot- you feel like you're baking in it, and the torture goes on for what seems like hours as your poor, tiny, formerly innocent face is scratched and pounded with the hairy base of Tom's testicles.... Tom lets himself into the hotel and walks briskly in to the shower, hearing the guys playing Xbox in one of the bedrooms. He undresses, deciding that you should..