NSFW, SFW BLOGS DO NOT TOUCH.

Imagine you’re on a first date with a cute girl. You two have been talking for a couple of weeks and decided to take the next step in your relationship. You plan to go to a restaurant and a movie afterwards, deciding to watch an action movie you both wanted to see.

You pick her up, she’s wearing that cute dress she knows you like, it shows off her figure more. You make glances at her as you two talk in the car while you drive, noticing how she’s rubbing her stomach. She’s told you she has stomach issues, but you never thought much of it.

You arrive at the restaurant, nothing too fancy. You two sit down and have a nice conversation. You order a burger and fries while she ordered a chicken Alfredo with extra sauce. You question her, but she says she couldn’t help herself. Halfway through the meal you can see she’s beginning to struggle, but she insists that she’s alright. Though, her constant belly rubbing tells you otherwise.

You pay for the meal, since you can and want to treat her, before leaving to go to the movie theatre. It’s only down the street, so you decide to walk. You take her hand in yours as you walk, glancing down to notice her stomach beginning to bloat against the dress. You’re really glad she picked your favorite dress. You can tell by the look on her face she’s trying so hard to hold back and suffering for it. You give her a slight squeeze on her hand, making her give you a nervous smile. During the walk you can hear her letting out small farts that she hopes to god you don’t hear. You don’t let her know that you have great hearing.

You make it to the movie theatre, she’s squirming more than she was before. She quickly states she’s going to the restroom before shuffling off. Leaving a few silent bombs behind her. You happily pay for both of your tickets and popcorn, getting her favorite soda as well. When she comes back out she looks much more relived, but you can still see how bloated she is.

You go into your designated theater and sit in the middle, some of the best seats. The theater begins to fill with more and more people until the theater is almost full. The movie starts and you both begin stuffing your faces with popcorn. On top of that, she begins drinking her soda. In no time she begins squirming in her seat as her stomach bloats even more. She attempts to relive the gas a bit by burping quietly into her fist, but it’s no use.

Every time a loud scene comes on the screen she lets a big bassy one rip into the leather cushion. It muffles the sound, but god does it reek. She blushes of embarrassment as others around her complain about the smell, while you stroke her thigh and watch the movie with a smile. Secretly inhaling her gas.

Whenever a silent scene plays that’s when she has to fart the most. Out of the corner of your eye you watch her bite her lip and close her legs to contain her gas. Though at one of the scenes one accidentally slips out of her, wet and bubbly against the seat. She gasps and covers her mouth in embarrassment while you quietly chuckle and comfort her.

The best part is that she keeps eating the popcorn and drinking her soda, cause how could she not? You paid for them, she’d feel bad if they went to waste. You also keep offering her some, cause you feel like she just hasn’t eaten enough.

When the credits begin to roll she begs you to not stay for the end-credits scene, but you insist that you have to. So she waits with you, her squirming becoming worse as she whimpers quietly. It’s like music to your ears. After the end-credits scene, which was totally worth it, she gets up quickly and leaves the theater. Making you trail behind as she takes another bathroom break before leaving.

You decide to wait for her outside, which doesn’t take as long as you thought it would. She comes out, looking disappointed and still bloated. You ask what’s wrong but she says it’s not important. You then ask if she wants to go back to your place. She bites her lip, debating in her mind on if she should say no. Ultimately she says yes because she wants to spend more time with you.

In the car she warns you about her stomach issues again, saying they’re flaring up. You’re tempted to tease her about it, but decide to comfort her instead. You tell her that it’s okay if she needs to release any gas, you won’t judge. She looks relieved at your words and thanks you as you drive back to your place.

You continue to talk with your hand on her thigh as you drive. She looks out the window the whole time as she rubs her stomach. You go to say something but are interrupted by a deep, bubbly rumbling in the passenger seat. She blushes and hides her face, squeaking out a small apology as you give her a lighthearted laugh. You rub and squeeze her thigh in comfort, continuing to talk like nothing happened.

This happens a few more times, each one becoming longer and bassier than the last. She even moans softly when one of them comes out. Each time she apologies and offers to roll down the window, but you tell her it’s fine. You don’t mind the smell at all.

You drive into your driveway and park the car, lingering in the car for a moment to watch her exit. But as she getting out, another wet and juicy one rips from her ass, lifting up her skirt a little. And you have front row seats to the private viewing. You instinctively inhale the smell before quickly leaving to not rouse any suspicion. You are so glad you lingered.

Once inside the house you decide to cuddle on the couch side by side while watching a show neither of you care about. You have an arm over her shoulder as she leans onto you, still rubbing her stomach. As she grows more comfortable, she begins releasing deep rumbling belches. She quickly fans them away as she apologizes. You reward her with a kiss on the head, which she can’t help but smile at. Each time she lets out a wretched burp or room clearing fart you give her a kiss. Instead of whispering soft apologies she begins giggling and letting out soft moans.

For a moment the gas stops as she starts to whimper and squirm softly. You ask if she’s okay and she says that there’s a hard one to push out. You offer to help and she looks at you confused, but you ask her to trust you. She nods, allowing you to move her into a more comfortable position.

You lay her down on the couch while laying behind her, her back pressed up against your chest as her ass rubs against your crouch. You then place your hand on her bloated stomach, beginning to massage gently. She moans as her face turns bright red, whimpering as she instinctively presses up against you. You can feel her stomach grumble underneath your working fingers, the gas pressing up against her poor belly. She tries to say a quick warning before your fingers press against the right spot as it sends a hot, rumbling fart right against you. You feel the vibrations against your crotch and you can’t help but get turned on.

She says she’s sorry and tries to move away, but you keep her there. You plant kisses on her neck and shoulder as you continue to press down on her bloated stomach. She moans and whimpers, squirming every once in a while as bassy and wet farts escape her ass while deep guttural bleaches erupt from her mouth. With the magic of your hands, her gas rings out freely.

The rest of the night is full of soft kisses and large bubbles of gas. It takes over an hour to get her bloating to calm down, letting her finally relax. She turns over and kisses you as a thank you. You invite her to spend the night, since it’s already late. She agrees, the both of you getting ready to sleep and sharing your bed for the night. As you hold her in your arms, you begin to drift off to sleep…

Going out to the movies with your friend for the first time in a long while. The theater was mostly empty but you someone ends up taking the empty seat next to you.

He's a chubby hairy dilf, has a huge bucket of popcorn to himself, as he sits you notice he has a warm aura of sweaty armpit that you can't help but smell as the movie starts.

As usual your friend falls asleep a fourth of the way into the movie, you try and focus but the smell keeps distracting you from the plot on the screen. The slobby dad next to you has been loudly laughing at the movie the whole time, without a care for keeping the theater quiet. Finishing his popcorn, he places the bucket on the ground, and rests his now free arm over the back of your seat.

You feel the heat from his open armpit warm up the air near your head and shoulders, his grey shirt, stained on the front from the butter on his popcorn as a large dark grey stain that almost caused the air around it to steam like breath on a cold day.

The sharp, oniony smell was so intense you began to tear up, but as you stole glances at him, he seemed almost a little bit handsome. You find yourself taking deeper and deeper breaths of the warm sweaty smell of his pit near your head.

After about ten minutes of sitting in his hot, sweaty funk, you feel like you're about to bust, his rancid dad pheremones have worn their way into your brain and you feel your crotch grow warm as you take deeper and deeper huffs.

You look at your friend next to you, still deep asleep, unaware of the smell or anything that had happened in the last half hour of the movie. As you turn to your other side to steal another glance at the dilf, you jump when you realise he had turned his head as was now locking eyes with you, a smug grin on his bearded face. You immediately break out into a blush of both embarrassment and the hormones now coursing through you.

"I could hear you sniffing that whole time, cutie." He raises his arm up, revealing wisps of dark long hair hidden by his sweat soaked sleeves. "C'mere, have a sniff up close, that's what you've been thinking about, right?"

Your mind was running a million miles an hour as you actually contemplated doing it, staring deep into the hot wet pit in front of your face. You turn back and look at your friend to be sure that she's still asleep. As you look back at him he grabs the back of your head and shoves your face deep into his warm armpit. The thick warm intense oniony odor brings tears to your eyes, but you can't help to keep sniffing and sniffing.

Suddenly, he pulls your head back out of his armpit and looks you in the eyes. "Hey, your friend won't be awake until the movies over anyways, come and sit in between my legs." Before you even know what you're doing your face is resting deep in his warm crotch, his hand resting in the back of your head pushing you into his musky balls through his shorts.

Deep breath after deep break of the intense musk of his balls full your lungs, when suddenly, you hear a deep, low buzzing. You wonder what that noise is as suddenly the space between your face and his crotch rapidly heats up. "Ahhh, Jesus, sorry kid, I was holding that one in since the movie started." As you start to process what he said your nose connected the dots even faster.

He was farting. He was letting out a series of quiet, farts out, directly into your face, in public. You prayed your friend was still deep asleep. The smell was one of the most intense things you had ever encountered. That greasy, beefy rotten smell was heating up every inch of your face, drowning you in the thick, hot gas. It felt like your were trying to breath in warm water just to take a breath of the thick moist air in that small space. But you were compelled to stay firmly against his gross crotch, pleasing him felt like nothing you had ever felt before, and being the only one he wanted to sniff up his gas was a feeling that warmed you up inside.

After 3 minutes of near constant farting in continuous bursts, your face is covered in his scent. He loosens his legs and slowly lifts you back into your chair, you look at the screen and realize the credits are already rolling. You barely even remember what movie you came in here to see. As you sit in a dazy while the credits roll, you realize the dilf has already left. Your friend rubs there eyes as they begin to stir in their seat.

"I fell asleep again huh. Did you try to wake me up at all during the movie?" You can't even begin to explain what had happened and decided to just say they had refused to wake up, but before you can start your friend interrupts. "Ewwww, dude did you fart? You smell awful! No wonder you didn't wake up you must have had to fart and been embarrassed huh, and uh... you might wanna wear some more deodorant next time too, I think you're starting to sweat through it and I can smell you..."

Imagine

You walk back into the apartment after a long day of work, you head into your room only to find your roommate.

Your pillow in their ass, stains you don't even wanna ask about.

They barely register you're there, as they keep sleeping but the smell alone is enough as a warning.

You gently shove them awake.

They peak an eye open at you. "Oh hey,"

They slowly move the pillow and and places it next to them and pats it, gesturing for you to lay down with them.

"Really helps me release gas." They chuckle.

Despite your protests, they pull you down away.

Your head lands on the pillow just as their stomach gurgles again.

Under the blanket, unashamedly they let out a stinky fart. Maintaining eye contact.

You feel the blanket heat up significantly, you realized what had just happened and before you can scold them.

They do it again and they cover your head with the blanket.

The next morning all you see is black and feel a heavy weight on your face. And the stench? Oh gosh, it reeks.

"Remember what I did to that pillow?" They grunt. "About to be you in a few minutes. But you don't mind right?"

You want to argue, tell them otherwise but a sputtering fart escapes them and goes down your throat.

"Ah," They moaned. "That burned. Knew I shouldn't have drank that coffee."

Your eyes widened in horror, of course they had coffee.

That always gave them the worse gas, kept them in the bathroom for hours.

That thought that they might be on your face for hours alone made your heart race.

This was a really old story, one I thought I lost way back from the first tumblr purge. People have been asking for it lately and I found out I did have a copy;

...

Growing up as the youngest of five brothers meant my life was a living hell. My parents were always working, so that meant my oldest brother Jackson was in charge. Since I was the youngest, I was always the punching bag for their pranks.

Sometimes my brother Aiden would dump his dirty laundry over me. The worst was that he had taken one of his dirty socks, stuffed it into my mouth, and tied the other sock around my mouth so I couldn’t spit it out. He did this after handcuffing me to a chair with dad’s spare handcuffs [he was a cop] and then he’d drop a pair of dirty boxers over my face, making sure the part that was over his ass would line up with my nose, and leave me there for an hour.

Sometimes my brother Liam loved giving me wedgies. I’d be lying on my stomach on the carpet, watching cartoons, and suddenly I’d feel my underwear yank up, squeezing my crotch and burning my ass crack. I’d scream as my whole body was lifted off the ground by the back of my underwear, Ethan cackling over me like an evil god.

Oliver would love to hit me when I’d least expect it. Most often I’d walk out of the bathroom in the morning and his fist would swing out of nowhere to hit my arm or my gut. The gut was the worst, those would make me double over. Sometimes he’d swing around from behind a corner and let his hand at full force slap my butt. That always stung. 

But worst of all was Jackson, and the hierarchy of gas. The “hierarchy” was a term he made up. Basically, you were allowed to burp and fart on any brother younger than you. So he got to share his gas with all of us. In order of oldest to youngest, it was him, Aiden, Liam, Oliver, and then me. That meant that I was always going to be a target for a gassy mouth or butt, and I couldn’t burp or fart back at any of them. Oliver loves to tell me that he’s so glad I was born, because when he was the youngest, he would get the worst of Jackson’s ass blasts. 

It was normal for me to be woken up in bed with one of their butts pointed in my face. The second I’d realized what I was looking at, I’d hear the fart sputtering at me, and I would jump back, saying “ew” and moaning, trying to get away from the stink cloud that would hit me no matter what. It was normal for me to be laying on the ground watching TV and suddenly feel weight against the back of my head, and then hear and feel a fart vibrating into my hair. Aiden likes to call that “shampoot”.

Jackson was above all, the worst. He’s free to fart on whoever he wants, but most often he’ll only burp at the others. We’d be having lunch, he’d burp and blow it at one of their faces. We’d laugh, they’d groan in disgust. But he seemed to save nearly all of his gas for me personally.

Once, when I was really young, I was playing around on my bed. The bed frame had a crevice in the middle that was just big enough for me to squeeze through, and so I would pretend I was a criminal escaping prison. While I was playing, I’d twisted at an awkward angle and got my chest stuck in the frame. My head and upper half was laying on the bed, my arms and legs were sticking out from the end. I started freaking out, crying for help. Jackson rushed in, “What’s up little buddy? You ok?” All of my brothers had dark hair, but Jackson was the oldest and the hairiest. His chest, arms, and legs were coated in black hair.

“I’m stuck, help me out!”

I saw the evil grin cross his face, “Sure thing bro. Gimme a sec, I want to unwind.”

He didn’t pronounce it as “unwind,” but rather “un-wind”, like deflating. My eyes widened, I kept saying “NO, no no no no!!” But it was too late. He had picked up my blanket, dropped it over my head, and then looking up, I saw his lower half stick under the blanket, his shorts covered butt pointed at my face. 

PRPTRPTRPTP

He farted over and over. My arms and legs flailed from the end of the bed. I screamed, he laughed, he watched TV while I was stuck in the Dutch oven.

That’s the kind of brother Jackson was. He loved making me suffer through his farts.

The best/worst example of this was whenever we played Grizzly Bear. I remember the first time I played that game well.

“Hey Noah,” I was sitting on the couch when I heard Jackson say my name. I turned my head and saw him and the rest of my brothers standing over me, their arms folded. “We’re gonna play Grizzly Bear. And you’re it.”

Grizzly Bear was a game of his invention, that he started playing with Aiden when it was just the two of them. Then they both played against Liam. And then Oliver. And now they play it against me.

It was basically hide and seek. Jackson was the “grizzly bear”, and the youngest brother was always “it”. Whoever was “it” had to hide, and if he could stay hidden for ten minutes, he wins. If he’s found…

Well, the reason it’s called Grizzly Bear is because Jackson was the hairiest of us all. He’s always been hairy. And being the top tier farter in the hierarchy of gas, he loves to point out how hairy his ass is. 

“It’s almost 3. You have to hide for fifteen minutes.” He explained to me, my head tilted, like a curious dog, “and if we can’t find you by 3:15, then you win.”

Liam cut in, “But none of us have ever won this game. So don’t expect it.”

Jackson continued, “If we find you, then the Grizzly Bear gets to sit on you.”

And when I didn’t understand, he turned around and pulled his pants down. His ass was covered in a furry crop of black hair, “If we find you, your face becomes the Grizzly Bear’s seat.”

In a panic, I jumped up and ran off to hide. I heard my brothers laugh behind me while Jackson counted down from 100 out loud.

100 seconds to hide. I hated Jackson’s farts. They always smelled so bad. To think that he would hold me down and sit his bare butt on my face...no, I didn’t want that to happen. I needed to find the best hiding spot possible. 

The thing about this game was that, even though it technically only needs Jackson and the youngest brother, all of the brothers older than the youngest would help Jackson look. So when it was just Jackson, Aiden, and Liam, Aiden would help Jackson look. With each new brother, the former youngest would become a member of the Grizzly Bear search party. That meant that I had to hide from all four of my older brothers. I was playing the most difficult version of the game: a little kid trying to outsmart his four oldest brothers who would be looking all over the house for fifteen minutes. My heart was racing. There was no way I could stay hidden for fifteen minutes from all of them. But I needed to try: I didn’t want to become Jackson’s seat.

I remember hiding in my dad’s closet, behind his suit jackets. I thought it was the best place, since none of us were allowed in there. I couldn’t count how often Oliver called me a goodie two shoes. None of them would expect me to hide in the forbidden bedroom of our parents.

The minutes went by. I heard my brothers call my name, laugh, shuffle around the house, moving around furniture, opening doors, footsteps everywhere. My heart was pounding and my ears were burning red. I had no idea how to check how long I’d been hiding, and how many more minutes I had. I was afraid that if they didn’t find me, they’d play a new round anyway. I gasped when the thought came; the thought that no matter what, sooner or later, Jackson WOULD sit on my face with his naked butt. Only a matter of time. I started to cry out of anxiety.

I sat in the darkness of my dad’s closet, hugging my knees, waiting for the inevitable. Minutes passed, I kept hearing my brothers searching around the house. The’d cleared through the ground floor, and I heard two of them walking around the upstairs floor. They’re probably going through all the rooms. They were going to find me eventually.

Dread was hanging in my stomach. Dreading the stink. How gross would it feel? I’d never felt Jackson’s naked butt against me...what would a naked fart against my face feel like? How bad would the smell be? I was trembling. 

I jumped when the door to my parents room opened. I heard Aiden, “Oh Noah...the Grizzly is getting tired and wants to pop a squat.” I held my breath. I could barely see Aiden’s shadow pass the closet door. I think he fell to his knees and was looking under the bed, “And he tells me he had a lot of nachos this afternoon, and he’s got a literal buttload of nacho farts to feed you.”

The thought made me want to puke.

His shadow covered the crack in the door. I kept my hand over my mouth and nose. My heart was skipping beats.

“Noah, are you in there?” He laughed. I didn’t move. “It’s only been ten minutes. If you’re in here that means you’re about to get one hell of a stink face.”

I clenched my eyes shut. I couldn’t avoid it anymore. The closet door swung open. In a last minute panic, I jumped to my feet to sprint past him. I don’t know what my plan was, maybe I thought I could run to my bedroom and lock the door. But he was too fast. He grabbed my arm. I started screaming, trying to fight him off, but he wrapped his arms around me and picked me up.

“FOUND HIM!!!” He shouted, carrying me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. 

“NO, PLEASE DON’T,” I couldn’t help but cry.

“We’ve all had to suffer through this, Noah,” Aiden laughed, “Quit being a baby and take your punishment like a man.”

I gulped. Jackson came up the stairs from the basement, an evil grin on his face. He let out a little roar, “The Grizzly wins again!”

We were all back in the living room. Aiden, Liam, and Oliver had brought me to the ground, lying on my back, my head resting on a pillow. Liam and Oliver held my limbs down, so even if I tried to wrestle away, I knew I would be able to get up. Aiden had his hands on either side of my head, so I wouldn’t be able to turn away. I had no choice but to watch as Jackson stepped his feet on either side of my head. He was patting his stomach, “Oh, Noah, I think I picked the worst time to have you play this game. You have no idea how badly my guts have been grumbling this afternoon.”

I whimpered. He took a deep breath, a satisfied sigh, and then pulled his shorts down. Above me, his giant butt cheeks, covered in black hair, slowly lowered to my face. I scrunched up, cringing, watching his cheeks naturally separate and I got a glimpse of his butt hole through the thick hair in his crack. Then, his hands came to each cheek and spread them wider. Now, I was staring directly at his gaping butthole. The smell was foul, as bad as butt sweat always is. He hovered a few inches over my face. I held my breath, my cheeks puffed up, spitting out, shaking. My brothers were all laughing around me.

“Any last words?” He asked, looking down at me between his legs.

“...how long?” Was all I could get out. My voice cracked.

“That’s the best part: until you DIE”

He sat full weight onto my face before I could react. Immediately I started shaking around, trying to get my arms and legs free of my brother’s grasps. But there was no way to escape. I still held my breath, but Jackson squirmed a bit and grinded his hairy butt into my face, his hairs were tickling the inside of my nose and without sniffing I could still smell his butt funk. I tried twisting my neck to free my face from stink hell, but Aiden was holding on tight. I felt his hole pucker up against my nose,

PRTPRTPRPTRPTRPTPPPPP

My brothers cheered, probably thinking of all the times they had to live through what I was experiencing, glad that they would never have Jackson fart directly up their noses ever again. And yes, even though I didn’t sniff, he had farted into my nostrils and that had forced the stink into my lungs. I coughed and gagged, gasping for air but the only air I could get was coming from his butt. 

PRTPRTPRPPPP

I was getting dizzy. The stink was so bad sure, but I kept gasping and sucking in his farts. I needed air, I was literally choking to death on his farts. I could hear them all laughing, I felt Jackson shake and scrub his ass into my face. It was like the worst face massage anyone could ask for. He shifted and I felt his hole press against my lips. I didn’t realize that was where my lips were until I felt him push again,

PRTPRTPRPTRPTRPTRPTR

The fart had broke my lips open and shot down over my tongue and into my throat. I gagged violently, accidentally swallowing his fart. I was so dizzy, so sick to my stomach, so humiliated listening to my brothers laugh like hyenas. 

“I think he’s fading away,” I heard Oliver say. And he was right. I was starting to see stars. The hands that held me down moved off of me, but even though they were free, I could barely move them. I tried to bring my arms up to push him off, but I was so dizzy from the farts that my hands only weakly grabbed onto his thighs.

“Aw, I think he’s falling asleep,” Jackson shifted once more and his hole had closed around the tip of my nose. The smell was unbareable.

“Nighty night, fart face.”

RPTRPTRPTRPTRPTRPTRPRTPPPPPPPPPPPP

Sucking in his fart as a last attempt to breathe, I’d passed out. Everything went black.

…

Jackson said that the first time he’d ever played Grizzly Bear, when he stink-faced Aiden into unconsciousness, he actually freaked out and thought he’d killed him. When he realized that he had the power to knock kids out with just his ass fumes, he became an evil monster.

And so my childhood, up through my teen years, were full of this game. College aged Jackson had no problem saying “Who’s up for a game of Grizzly Bear?” He was on the school’s wrestling team, so even if I said no, he would fight me down and straddle my face anyway. I had to try hiding at least. 

But that’s where something major happened.

First, I realized I was gay. But second...I realized that I actually enjoyed being the victim of the Grizzly Bear game.

The first dozen times I would tremble in fear, dread being knocked out by Jackson’s farts. But the more often we played, the more I accepted my fate as the eternal fart sniffer, and the more that I was actually welcoming it. I’d gotten used to how his butt smelled. I’d become almost like a connoisseur of my older brother’s farts, like fine wine, I would sniff them and see how different foods had effected his gastronomical tract.

I had fallen in love with his asshole.

That’s why, even in high school, I would hide in a basic hiding spot; under a bed, in a closet, behind a couch, and when I was found, I would fight back and scream, but that was all for show. I’d giggle and moan in disgust, mock fear, but it was actually in excitement. My brothers would hold me down. I’d shift to hide my boner as best as I possibly could. Did any of them notice my hard ons? They had to have noticed. They all must have known that somehow, I’d turned into a fart sniffing faggot, and they probably thought they were doing me a favor by forcing me to play this childhood game.

I’d stare up in anticipation as my oldest brother’s beefy, hairy wrestler ass came over me, spread open, and rested over my face. I loved his stink. I loved his ass hair. I loved his ass hole. I loved snorting up his farts, until I was put to sleep.

To this day I jerk off to the memories of Jackson farting up my nose. He’s too old for that stuff now, even though we laugh about it. I’m able to recreate the rush by meeting up with other men on fart-fetish forums, telling them my stories, and telling them I’d love to play Grizzly Bear with them some time. I’d even driven across state lines so I could play Grizzly Bear with my online friends. We’d make sure to play two rounds, so each of us could be the Bear, and the sniffer.

The water running down your backside makes your fart sound a little wet and as soon as you let it out, the smell hits your nose instantly. Due to the humidity in the room and the somewhat enclosed area of the shower it traps most of the stink inside and you're unfortunately (or fortunately depending on how much of a disgusting freak you are) stuck in your own putrid smell until you are finished with your shower.

You take Matt to a fancy restaurant for his birthday. He's not as polite in public as he should be.

[contains: farts, burps, piss, shit, and public slobbiness. we've got the whole shebang here 🥴]

like you relaxing in the tub when they come sauntering in.. lazily unzipping their jeans as they prop their foot on the edge of the bathtub; grinning down at you, eyes half-lidded with a casual "hey, baby,” before they’re unleashing a long, hot jet of piss into the tub. you can feel the water start warming and foaming at the sides as it turns yellow. their relieved “ah..” as they go.. and you can't hide the way your face sears red and you sink a little deeper into the filthy water, blushing hard.