Carlos ambled into my office, a vision in corporate attire that somehow made him even more devastatingly attractive. His striped button-up was stretched taut across a chest that clearly hadnāt forgotten its military training, and his trousers⦠God, his trousers were waging a losing battle against the sheer, magnificent expanse of his glutes. Weāre the same age, but his stint in the army after university meant he was junior to me here at the company. I was the one whoād pulled him in, hoping against hope that proximity would reignite the spark weād briefly shared back in the day. Nothing serious, just a few drunk stolen kisses and some heavy petting, but it had been enough to permanently etch his image into my fantasies.
Iād known Carlos since our first year of university. Weād had a few classes together, and even back then, he had this quiet intensity that drew me in. While I was focused on internships and getting my foot in the door of the corporate world, he was talking about joining the army. It always seemed so far removed from my own life, but I admired his conviction. When he finally came back, a few years older, harder, and with a body that could stop traffic, I was already established in my career. We reconnected at a mutual friendās barbecue, and I knew, instantly, that the old spark was still there, only now it was a raging inferno. I subtly offered to put in a good word for him at my company, a move I told myself was purely professional; I wanted that referral bonus after all, but deep down, it was a calculated risk. I wanted him close.Ā
He leaned against my desk, facing away from me, a picture of nonchalant confidence, and I found myself utterly captivated. Looking down at his laptop, he was talking aboutā¦something, but I wasnāt mentally present.Ā My eyes traced the taut fabric clinging to his thighs, the way his muscles flexed even when he was just casually shifting his weight. His ass, always a marvel, seemed to have expanded since we last properly⦠interacted. It was a perfect, sculpted orb of pure temptation. I was completely immersed, mesmerised by it.Ā
Then, a soft, almost polite PPPPPPFFFFFTTT rippled through the air.
It was enough to jolt me out of my trance. I scrunched my nose, feigning annoyance as the odour wafted in my direction. But inside, a little tremor of excitement shot through me. "Carlos!" I exclaimed, trying to sound put out.
He just chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made my insides clench.Ā
"What, not paying attention, boss?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. He knew, or at least suspected, the effect he had on me. He always had.
"I am paying attention," I countered, my voice a little too strained. "It's just⦠a little hard to focus when your ass is trying to escape your pants." I winced internally at the bluntness, but once the words were out, there was no taking them back.
His grin widened, and he actually flexed his glutes, a deliberate, slow movement that made the fabric groan. "Oh yeah?" he purred, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You think it's gotten bigger?" Looking down at the fruit of his hard work in the gym.Ā
My cheeks felt hot. "It's⦠impressive," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. The truth was, it was more than impressive. It was an utter masterpiece.
He laughed again, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down my spine.Ā
āIt is pretty big, isnāt it?ā Then, with a playful wiggle and a deliberate squeeze of his magnificent ass, another sound escaped him. This one was richer, deeper, a resonant BBBBBRRRRTTT that vibrated subtly through the air.
I groaned, a genuine sound of helpless surrender. It wasn't just the sound; it was the way the scent, subtle yet undeniably musky, began to waft towards me.
"See?" he said, fanning the air dramatically with his hand, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "That wasn't even a bad one. I can go to the bathroom if you want."
My throat felt dry, my voice caught somewhere between a stammer and a plea. "No, no, you're fine," I mumbled, trying to project an air of nonchalance I was far from feeling. "Just⦠surprised."
He chuckled, that rich, deep sound that always sent a shiver down my spine. "Surprised, huh? You've always been so easily flustered by me, haven't you?" His eyes, dark and knowing, held mine, pulling me back to those heady days right after university. He remembered. He remembered the way I reacted to him, the way he could always fluster me.
He pushed off my desk then, the slight movement making his trousers pull even tighter across his magnificent ass. I watched, mesmerised, as he walked around to the side of my desk, his movements fluid and powerful. He came to a stop right beside me, his hip brushing against my shoulder as he leaned down, ostensibly to look at something on my computer screen.
His scent, a mix of clean laundry, a faint hint of his cologne, and now, the subtle, musky undertone of his farts, enveloped me. It was intoxicating, a dangerous cocktail that made my head spin. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet hum of the office. He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him, the sheer bulk of his body a powerful presence beside me.
"So," he murmured, his voice low, "what were you actually working on? Or were you just admiring the view?" He straightened up then, turning to face me fully, a smirk playing on his lips. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, drawing attention to the way his button-up stretched taut across his pecs. The fabric of his trousers pulled even tighter across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. "I was⦠preparing for the quarterly review," I stammered, gesturing vaguely at my monitor. It felt like a pathetic lie even as I said it. How could I focus on quarterly reviews when every fibre of my being was screaming about the man standing beside me, the subtle, lingering aroma of his flatulence filling my senses?
He just laughed, a low, knowing sound. "Right. The quarterly review. And I suppose that's why your face is the colour of a ripe tomato?" His eyes dropped to my lips for a fleeting second, and I felt a jolt go through me.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken desires and the lingering scent of him. I wanted him to stay, to keep farting. I wanted to smell it. Feel it. But I was trapped, held captive by my own embarrassment and the professional facade I desperately tried to maintain. He was teasing me, playing with me, and I was utterly at his mercy. And in a twisted way, I loved it. I loved the way he made me feel, the illicit thrill of this secret obsession.
āāāāāāāāāā-
The hum of the projector was a dull thrum against the excited buzz of the shareholders. Carlos stood at the front of the room, effortlessly commanding attention. He was in that perfectly tailored suit, a beautiful grey that only accentuated the raw power of his physique. But it was the back of his trousers that held me utterly captive. They hugged his enormous glutes like a second skin, each ripple of muscle visible, flexing subtly with every shift of his weight. It was a struggle to keep my eyes on the financial projections on the screen. My gaze, and I noticed, a few other pairs of eyes in the room, kept drifting to that magnificent, tightly encased ass.
He was a natural up there, confident and articulate, a far cry from the slightly awkward kid I'd known in university. He answered questions with ease, his military training clearly having sharpened his focus and delivery. He did well, exceptionally well, and I felt a surge of pride, mixed with that familiar, unwelcome ache of desire.
After the meeting, the room gradually emptied. I waited for Carlos, watching him exchange pleasantries with a few of the lingering shareholders. When he finally made his way over to me, a broad, triumphant smile on his face, I felt my own lips curve in response.
"Carlos, that was brilliant," I said, extending my hand for a congratulatory shake. His grip was firm, warm. "Seriously, you nailed it."
"Thanks," he beamed, his eyes sparkling. "Glad it's over, though. Public speaking still gets the nerves going, even after all that army stuff." He paused, then leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping slightly.Ā
"Actually, I'm just glad I got those farts out in the bathroom beforehand." He chuckled, a deep, easy sound. "Totally blew up that bathroom. God, it'll probably stink for hours in there." He shook his head, still grinning. "But damn, imagine letting rip during that. I'd be embarrassed forever."
My heart gave a lurch. My mind, unbidden, conjured an immediate, vivid image: Carlos, in the pristine executive bathroom, hunched over the toilet. His face scrunched in effort, a low moan escaping his lips as the sound of powerful, rumbling farts ā a series of deep BBBBBFFFRRRRMMMMPPPPPP followed by a sharp PHHHHHWAAATTTTT ā reverberated off the tiled walls.Ā
The air was thick and pungent, hanging heavy around him.
A sheepish, almost breathless laugh escaped me. "Haha⦠yeahā¦" was all I could manage. My dick gave an undeniable twitch. He had no idea the landscape of my inner world, the private, intoxicating fantasy he'd just unwittingly painted for me. The idea of him, alone in that bathroom, letting go, uninhibited and powerful, was almost too much to bear. The scent, the sound, the sheer primal force of it⦠I wanted to be there. I wanted to witness it. I wanted to smell it.
He pushed a hand through his hair, still oblivious to the silent battle raging within me. "Anyway," he said, pulling me back to the present, "fancy grabbing a drink to celebrate?"
My mind raced, the image of him in the bathroom lingering, the scent now an imagined reality. "Yeah," I managed, my voice a little husky. "Yeah, I'd like that." Maybe, just maybe, I could devise a situation where he'd be less discreet.
Due to his great performance, the company decided to put Carlos with me on the business trip to Spain. The airport lounge buzzed with the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses. Carlos and I were settled into a couple of plush chairs, side by side. I was nursing a soft drink, trying to stay hydrated, while he was absolutely demolishing a plate of what looked like a full English breakfast.
"You know they serve food on the plane, right?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He just shrugged, already halfway through a sausage. "Gotta fuel the muscles, always," he mumbled around a mouthful, unapologetically. That was Carlos ā always practical, always hungry.
A few minutes later, our gate was called. We both started to stand, but Carlos suddenly plopped back down, a mischievous glint in his eye. A soft, warm MMMMMPPPPPHHHHFFFT emanated from the cushion beneath him, muffled but undeniably present. It was deep, resonating, and God, it was hot. He giggled, a boyish sound that sent a familiar tremor through me. "Some poor soul's going to wonder why their seat's so warm and smells faintly of victory," he whispered, clearly amused by his own prank.
I chuckled, trying to mask the surge of heat that spread through my own body. He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, the movement pulling his shirt taut across his impressive torso.
"Gosh, I'm so gonna be farting on that plane," he announced, as if it were a casual weather report.Ā
"Don't you wanna do that before we board?!" I asked, feigning concern.
He waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, don't worry. The plane engines are so loud, they won't hear it. Plus, doesn't the air get changed or something?" He grinned, then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. "Besides, I'm next to you, so I'm sure you won't mind."
I let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Oh, really?" I replied, but inside, I was practically jumping with joy. The thought of being trapped in a metal tube for hours with him, knowing he was going to be letting loose⦠it was almost too good to be true.
True to his word, once we were settled in our seats on the plane and the roar of the engines filled the cabin, Carlos began his personal performance. Every now and then, Iād catch his eye. Heād scrunch his face ever so slightly, a tiny tremor would go through his body, and then Iād just know. Due to the overwhelming engine noise, I could barely discern the sound, but I could always tell it was a nice, big one, a satisfying release for him. Heād offer a small, smug smile in my direction, and Iād just roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed, all the while trying to subtly adjust myself to hide the growing tent in my trousers. This trip was going to be an experience.
We disembarked into the warm Spanish air, the lingering scent of plane farts a distant memory, at least for me. Carlos, however, was already in his element. He hailed a taxi with a confident flick of his wrist, and then, to my utter delight, began rattling off directions in fluent, rapid-fire Spanish.
"ĀæAl Hotel Cervantes, por favor?" he asked the driver, his voice a smooth, deep rumble. ("To the Hotel Cervantes, please?")
The driver nodded, "Claro, suban." ("Of course, get in.")
His voice, already deep and resonant, took on a new, incredibly alluring quality as he conversed with the driver. Each rolled ārā and crisp consonant sent a shiver down my spine. It was unexpectedly, ridiculously hot. He glanced back at me, a small smile playing on his lips, as if knowing the effect his linguistic prowess was having.
"ĀæTodo bien?" the driver asked. ("Everything okay?")
"SĆ, perfecto. Gracias," Carlos replied, his smile widening. ("Yes, perfect. Thank you.")
The taxi pulled up to our hotel, a grand, old building with a stately facade. Company policy had us in separate rooms, but as luck would have it, we were next-door neighbours. Carlos, with his usual ease, rolled his suitcase into his room, flashing me a quick, "Buenas noches," before disappearing behind his door. I wished him a good night in return, trying to sound as nonchalant as he did, and then stepped into my own room.
It was a beautiful space, almost too big for one person. A king-sized bed dominated the centre, draped in crisp, white sheets, and a plush armchair sat invitingly in the corner. "It could totally fit a shorter, stockier, gassy man in here with me as well," I thought, the idea forming in my mind.
And then the fantasy began to unfold. I pictured us, coming back from a long, gruelling day of meetings, him in his tight suit pants, stretched to their absolute limit. He'd collapse onto the bed, utterly exhausted, and with a soft BBBBLAAAARRRRPPP or a deep PPPPHHHHWWWUMMMPP, he'd let out a substantial fart, the warm gas caressing the fresh sheets. Then, weād cuddle. Iād spoon him, my front pressed against his incredibly firm ass, and heād fart again, PPPPAAARRRRRRRPPPP the warm air hitting my lap, a low rumble against my stomach. The sheer intimacy of it, the raw, uninhibited release, sent a jolt of pure desire through me. The thought was so incredibly hot that I found myself jerking off alone in that luxurious, empty bed, the fantasy of Carlos and his glorious farts my sole focus. The intense rush of pleasure, combined with the exhaustion of the journey, quickly caught up to me, and I drifted off to sleep, his imagined scent still lingering in my mind.
I woke up the next day, the Spanish sun streaming through my window, and the haze of my solitary fantasy slowly dissipated. The day of meetings went smoothly. Carlos, once again, charmed everyone, flashing his fluent Spanish like a secret weapon. It was undeniably attractive, watching him effortlessly navigate conversations, his voice a rich baritone even when discussing quarterly projections.
The day was drawing to a close, and we decided on dinner at a local spot. Paella, rich with seafood and saffron, filled the air with its delicious aroma. We talked about the day, our lives, our work. It was surprisingly easy, just sitting and chatting with him like old friends. And wow, he looked good. The dim lighting of the restaurant softened the edges of his sharp features, making his eyes seem even darker, more inviting.
After dinner, we decided to take a walk through the plaza. Dusk was settling, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. As we ambled along, a loud catcall echoed from a group of men leaning against a fountain.
"”Qué paquete!" one of them whistled, eyes clearly on Carlos's rear. ("What a package!")
Carlos, slightly tipsy from the local wine, just joyfully jeered back in Spanish, a wide grin on his face. "”Gracias, guapo!" he called out, a playful retort. ("Thanks, handsome!")
"What was that about?" I asked, feigning ignorance, though a part of me already knew.
He chuckled, "Oh, he's just interested in my ass." He turned his head to look at me, that mischievous glint in his eye.
"I'm sure many men are." I say.Ā
He paused, then added, "Yeah, well, not many can handle the full thing."
"It is pretty huge," I said, the alcohol giving me a sudden burst of courage. I reached out, my hand finding its way to that magnificent curve. I cupped a feel, marvelling at the firm, sculpted muscle beneath the fabric. "Damn, congrats, man," I added, giving it a light squeeze.
He looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of arousal and glee. My heart hammered. I stuttered, "We⦠we should probably call a cab back to the hotel. It's getting late."
Before I could pull out my phone, he walked a few steps ahead of me, his back to me. He shifted his weight, pushed his butt out just a little, and let out a resounding BBBRRRRAAPPPPHHHHTT, FFFMMMMMMMMPPPPTTT, FFFFRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTT that seemed to vibrate through the dusky air. He jiggled his butt playfully. "See? This is what I meant by saying most men can't handle it," he said, turning back to me, a proud smirk on his face. "Had to let that one out before the cab, otherwise we'd be kicked out."
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "So," I ventured, trying to sound casual, "does the man you want to date⦠need to be able to handle your farts?"
He met my gaze, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. "Well, it is a part of me, so yes. Not many can." He paused, then his eyes flickered down to my midsection, a knowing glint returning. "You seem to be able to, though."
A brief, charged silence descended between us. We drew closer, the distance between us shrinking with every breath. "Well," I began, my voice barely a whisper, "they don't smell that badā¦"
His eyes lit up. With a mischievous grin, he cupped a hand by his crack, pushed his butt out slightly, and released another low, wet PPPPPFFFOOOOTTT. He then brought his hand up to my nose. I inhaled a deep, deliberate sniff, taking in the warm, musky scent that smelled like what we had just eaten.Ā My tent, which had been valiantly trying to stay hidden, now poked undeniably against his leg. He felt it, looked down, then slowly, provocatively, looked up at my face. His smirk returned, wider now, laced with triumph.
"Maybe you should call that cab," he murmured, his voice laced with invitation.
The ride back to the hotel was a blur of electric anticipation. The cab wasn't even a long drive, but you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Every bump in the road, every slight swerve, brought our bodies just a little closer, and I could feel the heat radiating off Carlos beside me. He somehow managed to hold his gas in the entire journey, a feat of self-control that only heightened the suspense.
We finally reached our floor, and I fumbled with my key card, my hands trembling slightly. The door to my room buzzed open, revealing the spacious interior. "Wow, your room is huge! I guess that means I need to work harder," Carlos commented, his eyes scanning the room.
"Well, in a couple of years you'll probably be promoted, so youā" I started, but he interrupted me with a deep, hungry kiss. My hands instinctively went to his ass, gripping the firm, muscular cheeks. He broke the kiss, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I meant that this bigger room will take longer to fully saturate with my stink."
With surprising strength, he forced my back against the wall, then began to grind his hips against my lap. I was quite a bit taller than him, so I had to bend my knees to feel the full, glorious pressure exactly where I wanted it.Ā
His hips rolled slow, purposeful, grinding his ass back into me, his thick, meaty glutes swallowing the bulge in my trousers whole.
A wet, heavy blast rumbled straight through those tight khaki shorts, bubbling over my lap like lava down a mountain. My dick jumped, twitching hard against his crack. I gasped into his neck. He chuckled darkly. āMmm, you felt that, huh?ā I could barely answer. He ground in again.
āEnjoy your dessert,ā he whispered, looking over his shoulder, āand this cake.ā
God, I was already leaking. I could feel the wetness building in my boxers. The fabric stuck to me, damp with need. Every time he shifted, I felt the heat from him wafting back. His scent was already creeping into my brain, fuzzing everything over. A low moan escaped my lips, and I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, suddenly acutely aware of how thin hotel walls could be.
He kept going, his movements slow and deliberate, each grind stoking the fire building within me, punctuated with
I kept moaning, muffled by my hand, as a wild idea sparked in my mind. "Hey," I whispered, pulling my hand away. "Could you⦠Could you like, sit on the desk, facing me?"
He looked at me, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. "Like⦠how you were that morning of the shareholders meeting," I clarified, my voice a little breathless.
It clicked in his mind. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He moved to the sturdy desk, his tight purple khaki shorts straining as they were filled with his gassy, bubble butt. He assumed the position, facing me, his legs dangling slightly.
Then he began to fart, just like he had in my office. A deep, resonant PPPPPPPAAAAAARRRRRRPPPPā started, building in intensity. I couldn't contain myself. Mid-fart, I dove forward, burying my face eagerly into the plump valley between his ass cheeks, changing the sound of the fart to a delightful, muffled THWUMPPP. With both hands, I gave his cheeks a firm, appreciative jiggle. I pulled my face out briefly, gasping, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do this!" Then, without waiting for a response, I went back in, inhaling deeply, eagerly sniffing the warm, musky scent.
He looked at me, his eyes wide, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "I think I did," he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
We then moved to the perfectly made king-sized bed. He straddled me slow, swinging one thick leg over until I was pinned beneath him, throbbing. He stared down, lip bitten, hunger in his eyes. My hands found his ass again and thatās when he struck.
FFFFFFFFBBBBAAAAAAAAAARRRRRTTTTTTTT
A gassy blast erupted, hitting both my hand and my dick simultaneously. The heatā¦.fuckā¦the heat rushed over my tip, soaked into my palm. I groaned, eyes rolling back, twitching beneath him.
āEnjoy that,ā he growled, voice low and sinful.
I brought my hand to my nose, fingers still warm from the blast. I sniffed deep. And my dick twitched again, painfully.
I wasnāt gonna last much longer.
Soon after, our lips collided, hot, sloppy, desperate. Carlosās hands cupped the sides of my face, pulling me in deeper, our mouths dancing somewhere between lust and raw need. His tongue slid against mine while his hips kept rolling, ass grinding hard against my dick like he wanted to break me.
BBBBBBRRRRPPPPPPPPPLLRRT.
A juicy one, thick and low, puffing out right between kisses. He didnāt even pause. He just moaned into my mouth, letting it roll out like a sigh of pleasure.
āFffuck, I need to cum,ā I gasped against his lips, eyes fluttering.
He pulled back, a wicked grin curling up one corner of his mouth. āDo you now?ā
I nodded, almost pleading.
He turned, slow, teasing. The weight shifted off my crotch and suddenly I was staring up at it, his full, powerful ass lowering down like a goddamn throne. My mouth opened instinctively.Ā
He straddled my face fully, his cheeks spreading warm over me, his crack nestling against my lips. I felt his eyes on me, could feel the heat of his stare even through the thickness of him.
Looking down at my leaking, twitching cock, he muttered:
āAlright boss⦠cum for me.ā
PPPPPFFFFRRRRAAAAAAARRRTTTTT.
BBBBBPPPPPPPRRRRRRTTTTTTT.
FFFFFFFHHHHHHBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAPPPPP.
They rolled out in waves, each one hotter, muskier, wetter than the last. I licked. I devoured, my tongue working over his hole, feeling every little tremble, every flutter of gas vibrating through me. The taste was vile and perfect.
My cock jerked. Balls tight. Thenā¦.white ropes shot out of me.
I came hard. My hips lifted, toes curling as I shot stream after stream across my own stomach, gasping against his gassy ass.
And above me, Carlos moaned, loud, feral, his whole body trembling.
āFuuuckkkk,ā he groaned.
He came too, the sensation of my tongue teasing his farting hole too much for even him to bear.
We stayed like that, me panting into his crack, him pulsing above me, both of us stinking, sticky, and so blissfully, utterly wrecked.
I woke to the insistent buzz of my early morning alarm, my hand blindly swatting at it until silence reigned again. I turned back, and there it was: the magnificent, undeniable view of Carlosās huge ass, framed perfectly against the white hotel sheets. I couldn't resist. I leaned in, burying my face deep into the soft, warm curve, inhaling deeply. That faint, musky stench from the night before still lingered, a private perfume.
He grunted softly, shifting in his sleep, and then a deep, resonant BBBMMMMPPPPMMMM escaped him, the smell intensifying, filling my nostrils with his unique scent.
"Morning," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "Enjoying the pillows?"
"Mmm-hmm," I hummed in response, my nose still firmly planted in his ass.
"As much as I enjoy you smelling my morning farts," he said, his voice now more awake, "We gotta get up, heading to the airport soon."
I reluctantly sat up, the scent of him still thick in the air. "Fuck, it stinks," I grumbled, a smile playing on my lips.
"Guilty," he chuckled, stretching languidly. The whole room, despite its size, certainly stunk of him.
I dashed into the bathroom and grabbed the air freshener, spraying it generously around the room. As I did, he started pulling on his clothes, his muscles flexing under the fabric. Thatās when the conversation turned, shifting from the lighthearted to something deeper, something weād both been circling since he walked back into my life.
"So," I began, my voice a little softer than usual, watching him as he buttoned his shirt, "about⦠this. Us."
He paused, his fingers still on a button, and met my gaze. His eyes, usually so full of mischief, were serious now. "Yeah. Us."
"I⦠I don't know what to call it," I admitted, my heart thudding a little harder against my ribs. "Back in uni, it was just⦠messing around, right? And then you left for the army, and I thought that was it. But then you came back, and then youāre here, at my company, and⦠last night." I gestured vaguely around the room, the faint lingering smell still a testament to our intimate hours. "It feels different now, Carlos. Like⦠more."
He finished buttoning his shirt, then walked over to me, closing the small distance between us. He took my hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "It is more," he said, his voice low, earnest. "I always had a thing for you, even back then. But I had to go. Had things to figure out. And now that I'm back, and we're⦠here," he squeezed my hands gently, "I don't want it to be just messing around anymore. I want it to be⦠whatever you want it to be. Something real."
My throat tightened. Hearing him say it out loud, admitting to feelings that mirrored my own, was overwhelming. "Something real," I repeated, the words feeling precious on my tongue. "Yeah. Me too." I looked up at him, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "Definitely more."
"Does that mean I can come and fart in your office more?" he asked, a playful glint returning to his eyes, breaking the intensity just enough.
"Well⦠probably not," I said, a chuckle escaping me. "That might inconvenience others that walk in. And probably violate a few HR policies." I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close, my hands naturally finding their familiar spot on his magnificent ass, gently squeezing. "But⦠say if you want to come over to mine after work, I'll cook for you." I leaned in, pressing a kiss to his neck, then whispered, my voice thick with promise, "And then you can fart my face into the pillow all night." I hugged him tighter, groaning contentedly as I groped his firm ass. He let out a soft PPFFFFFFTTTT against my thigh, a warm, unmistakable sound of agreement.