Stiles lay beneath Scott's scrotum, crushed and chafed by the constant grinding of his hips. He had thought that the taco farts were the worst thing he could endure, but this was even worse. The heat and sweat emanating from Scott's body were suffocating, and the smell of his balls was enough to make Stiles gag.

He tried to push himself free, but he was stuck, trapped by the weight of Scott's genitals. He could feel his skin rub raw as Scott squirmed above him, the sweat and slime coating his body making the contact even more unpleasant.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sensation, but it was no use. The sound of Scott's heavy breathing and the wet slapping of his genitals against the seat filled his ears, and the smell of his sweat and musk filled his nose. He knew he couldn't take much more of this. He had to find a way to escape before he passed out or went mad from the relentless assault on his senses.
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July 19