ENG|ESP 🇨🇱 30 something • she/her/hers • sapphic transgirl • switch • butt stuff lover • fetish content creator 🍑💨. Office girl by day, succubus and computer virus at night ☢️💾 🔞Minors DNI/DNF!🔞 🚫 DON'T YOU EVEN DARE TO INTERACT if you don't have your age and pronouns in your bio, and if you haven't read my pinned !📌🚫 https://allmylinks.com/succubratty
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✨Please read this entire pinned if you want to interact with me.✨
My name is Ellie; welcome to this kinky blog 💖
I'm a regular office girl by day and a succubus at night; I have a big fart fetish and kinks related to bodily functions, so you might see that kind of content a lot.
I tend to feel ashamed most of the time for having these kinks; I'm extremely shy about it in real life, so I created this space to express myself and relax freely.
A little about me:
I'm a trans woman.
My pronouns are SHE/HER, in case it wasn't clear.
I'm a big sapphic girl.
I feel sexual and romantic attraction towards girls and femme-aligned people.
I’m polyamorous.
I have a gf.
I'm tiny, I'm 5'2/161 CM tall.
I'm a switch.
I love dark and occult things, monster girls, metal music, horror stuff, and things alike.
I have had IBS diagnosed since very little, so I have learned to live with these pains and gas since forever.
Turn-ons/content I like to make:
✔️ Being loved by cute girls/femme-aligned people.
✔️ Gassy girls.
✔️ Yucky "unfeminine" gross girls.
✔️ Smelly girls that don't shower, but want to get bathed.
✔️ Soft and cute dom girls.
✔️ Subby girls that need to be taken care of.
✔️ Girls taller than me that can lift me and rail me hard.
✔️ Monster girls, I'm a succubus; I love girls of my own kind.
✔️ Soft scat, mostly EFRO, panty pooping.
✔️ Ass worship/ass sniffing.
✔️ Musk/scent/olfactophilia.
✔️ Dirty anal sex.
✔️ Pissing/golden-shower/omo.
✔️ Mommy dom occasionally.
Things that are a big turn-off for me, and won't make content about:
❌ Cis males with macho, sexist, and bigoted attitudes.
❌ Cis male farts.
❌ Transphobes/TERFS.
❌ Using slurs on me; I'm not a tr*p, a s*ssy, a shem*le, a tr*nny, or a f*ta; using those or similar slurs is an instant block.
❌ People that think that can dom me without my permission.
❌ Burping/eructophilia.
❌ Vomit/emetophilia, as a survivor of bulimia, totally NO.
❌ Gaining/feedism, absolutely f*cking NOT.
❌ Vore and derivates of it: total NO.
❌ Roleplaying, it's really boring for me.
About interacting with other kinksters (you):
Please be respectful; you can be horny and polite simultaneously.
Cis het males do not interact.
Don't be creepy; I'll warn you if I see any sign of obsession, the second warning will be just an instant block.
This blog is a safe space for women, trans and non-binary people, and entirely pro-queerness.
You'll get exposed, blocked, and reported if you come here spreading hate; I won’t tolerate:
TERFs/SWERFs/radfems.
Bigots, nazis, fascists, or any right-wing ideology.
MAPS/pedophiles.
Zoophile/promotes bestialism.
LGBTIQA+ phobic dimwits.
Bullies/trolls/Incel idiots.
Racists/xenophobes/pro ICE.
Ableist, truscum, antivaccine, flat earther.
Kink shamers.
You're not welcome here.
Needless to say:
The legal age in my country is 18.
Get the fuck out if you’re a minor/adolescent.
I don't care if your country has another legal age.
Don't interact with me and my content if you’re a minor, don’t be dumb.
I'll block you if you don't have your age in your bio. 🔞
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Sarah finally went camping with her bestie. - Part 2
CW: fart kink/eproctophilia
By the time we reached the campsite, the light had already started to soften into that late-afternoon glow that makes everything feel calmer than it really is, like the day is quietly pretending everything is under control. Two families were already packing up when we arrived, folding chairs, shaking out blankets, moving slowly with that satisfied energy of people who had done everything right. For a moment, just watching them, I thought maybe we had stepped into that same kind of easy, uncomplicated weekend.
Kimmy waved first, of course, and within seconds she was already talking to them, asking about the weather, the trails, whether it got cold at night. I stood beside her, nodding along, trying to match her ease, even though part of my attention kept drifting back to the low, persistent stomach ache I had been trying not to acknowledge since we left the highway.
“It’s been perfect,” one of them said, smiling. “No rain, not too cold. You picked a good week”
Kimmy nudged me lightly. “See? I told you.”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a small smile. “You were right.”
For a moment, I almost believed it. That maybe this would be simple. That maybe I had been overthinking everything.
That feeling disappeared the second we opened the trunk.
At first, I didn’t process it. I just stared, expecting my tent to be there, folded and obvious like it had been when I packed it. I moved a bag aside, then another, giving it space to appear, like maybe I had just missed it. The longer I looked, the clearer it became that it wasn’t there at all.
“Kimmy,” I said, already feeling something tighten in my chest.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t have my tent.”
She turned towards me, her expression shifting slightly. “What do you mean you don’t have your tent?”
“I mean… I don’t have my tent,” I repeated, because there wasn’t another way to make it sound better.
We both looked at the trunk again, “Oh, okay” she said finally, exhaling “Lets relax and think” she said immediately. “Maybe you lost it on the gas station but thats very unlikely, call your mom. Maybe it’s still at your place.”
My phone barely had signal, but the call went through just long enough for my mom to confirm exactly what I already suspected—that I had, in fact, left the tent behind. She had tried to call me earlier, she said, her voice breaking apart as the connection started to fade. I tried to respond, but the signal was already slipping away, cutting her off mid-sentence until the call dropped completely.
I stood there for a second, staring at the empty screen, before looking back at Kimmy.
“Well?” she asked.
“I forgot it,” I said.
She shrugged, like the solution was already obvious. “Okay. Then you’ll sleep with me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“In my tent” she clarified. “We used to do it all the time. Girl Scouts, remember?”
“I remember,” I said, a little too quickly.
And I did remember. That was exactly the problem.
Outwardly, I nodded and thanked her, keeping my voice steady enough to pass as normal. Inside, though, something much louder was happening. Because while the missing tent was an issue, it wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was that I had been counting on that tent to quietly rip ass in peace.
I had been planning—very deliberately—to have a moment alone. Just a small window of privacy where I could deal with the consequences of everything I had eaten without turning it into a shared experience. It had been a simple plan, a necessary one, and now it was... gone.
Now there was no private space, no backup option, no graceful way to handle it. Just the reality of sharing a tent with Kimmy, of being in close proximity for hours, of having absolutely nowhere to hide.
And the worst part was that she wouldn’t even care.
That was what made it so irrational and so frustrating at the same time. Kimmy had already proven she didn’t mind. She laughed about it, treated it like something harmless, something human. If anything, she found it funny.
But that didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse.
Because the problem wasn’t her reaction. The problem was the fact that I had somehow gone all these years without ever letting that side of myself exist in front of her. Not once. Not in high school, not during sleepovers, not during long days spent together where it would have been completely normal. I had maintained that line so consistently that it had stopped feeling like a choice and started feeling like a rule.
And now that rule was about to be broken in the worst possible way.
I followed her around while we set up the tent, handing her things, trying to stay present, but my mind kept circling back to the same thought over and over again. I could still try to find a moment, maybe come up with an excuse to step away, maybe pretend I needed something from the car, anything that would give me a few minutes alone.
But as the light started to fade and the air grew colder, as the tent stood there waiting and the evening settled in around us, it became harder to ignore what was becoming obvious.
There wasn’t going to be a moment like that.
Not a real one.
And sooner or later, whether I wanted it to or not, this was going to become something I couldn’t keep to myself.
By the time we finally crawled inside the tent, the cold had settled in enough to make everything feel tighter, closer, more immediate. I realized almost instantly that I had made another mistake, because my sleeping bag had been packed with the tent I had so efficiently forgotten at home. For a second I just stood there, processing it, before Kimmy noticed and let out a small laugh under her breath.
“Wait,” she said, already amused, “you don’t have a sleeping bag either?”
I shook my head, already feeling the situation stack itself against me.
“That’s fine,” she said quickly, like none of this mattered. “Mine’s huge. I move a lot when I sleep anyway. I basically wake up like a starfish.”
When Kimmy said her sleeping bag was huge, I nodded like if that was the only relevant part of the sentence, even though my brain immediately went somewhere else. Of course it was huge. She was huge. Not in a bad way—just tall, solid, athletic in that effortless way that made her feel like she naturally belonged in any space she occupied. She was all long lines and confidence, like everything about her had room to exist without apology.
And then there was me.
Small like two heads smaller than Kimmy, on a good day, built more like something compact and forgettable, people always compared me to a K-pop idol, like if that was supposed to be flattering because I’m asian. It didn’t help here. If anything, it made me feel even smaller, like I had been designed to take up as little space as possible, physically and otherwise.
The idea of sharing a sleeping bag suddenly felt less practical and more… overwhelming. Not because there wasn’t enough room, but because there was too much awareness of it—of her size, her warmth, the way I would fit into that space without effort, like I could disappear into it if I wasn’t careful.
We ended up squeezing into her sleeping bag together, adjusting awkwardly at first until we found a position that worked, or at least didn’t feel completely unnatural. It was warm, warmer than I expected, and the closeness that came with it made it impossible to ignore her. Every small movement shifted the space between us, every breath felt louder than it should have.
I told myself to stay still. To focus on anything else. To survive the night with some version of dignity intact.
That lasted a few minutes.
“You’re doing it again,” Kimmy said quietly after a while.
“Doing what?”
“Being weird.”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You are,” she insisted, turning slightly toward me inside the sleeping bag. “You’ve been like this all day. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me.”
She let out a small breath, somewhere between amused and confused. “Sarah… why are you so shy about this?”
I didn’t answer.
“Seriously,” she continued, softer now but more direct, “it’s just… farting. Why are you acting like it’s illegal in front of me?”
That did it.
Something in me snapped—not loudly, not all at once, but enough that holding everything in, physically and emotionally, stopped being an option. I turned toward her, frustration hitting first, words coming out sharper than I intended.
“Because I like you,” I said.
She blinked. “What?”
“I like you,” I repeated, the words pushing forward now that they had started. “I’ve liked you since senior year, and then we went to different colleges and I spent a whole year missing you, waiting for this trip, thinking it was going to be—” I cut myself off, exhaling hard. “Not this.”
She was staring at me now, completely still.
“I didn’t picture being this bloated since we made that stop at the gas station” I pointed to my stomach that it looked like If I had swallowed an entire cantaloupe. “I thought I could at least pretend to be normal for one week.”
“Sarah—”
“No, it’s fine,” I cut in quickly, already feeling the embarrassment catching up to everything I had just said. “It’s fine. I just—” I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly. “Whatever. Forget it.”
There was a pause. A real one this time.
And then something in me gave up completely.
“Fuck it,” I muttered.
Finally I could let go this huge stomach pain.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t controlled. It was long, loud, and immediate in a way that made it feel like the entire sleeping bag could became an inflatable balloon. For a second, I just lay there, staring into the dark, fully aware of what I had just done and unable to undo any part of it.
A brief silence followed.
Then Kimmy started laughing.
Not a small laugh, not something she tried to hide—full, uncontrollable laughter that shook through both of us inside the sleeping bag.
“Oh my god,” she managed between breaths, “that smells so weird.”
I groaned, immediately covering my face. “Don’t smell it!”
“I can literally feel the gummy worms tickling my nose” she continued, laughing harder. “It’s like—acid candy in the air.”
“Kimmy, oh my god, stop,” I said, half-laughing, half-horrified, trying to push her away even though there was nowhere to go. “Don’t analyze it.”
She kept laughing, and somehow that broke something in me again, but this time it wasn’t just embarrassment. I could feel it building in my chest, sharper, heavier, until my voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
“I just… didn’t want you to think I’m gross,” I said, my throat tightening slightly. “I didn’t want to ruin this. Or us.”
The words hung there longer than anything else had.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I added quietly.
She stopped laughing.
Not abruptly, just gradually, like the weight of what I had said settled in. I felt her shift closer instead of away, and a second later her hand moved gently to my face, wiping at the tears I hadn’t even noticed starting.
“Hey,” she said softly.
I didn’t look at her.
Her fingers slid under my chin, lifting it just enough so I had to.
“I could never think you’re gross,” she said, her voice steady in a way that made it impossible not to believe her. “You’re just a nervous wreck. You silly.”
Before I could respond, she leaned in and kissed my lips.
It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was direct and simple.
For a second, I just froze, my brain trying to catch up with what was happening, and then everything else fell away. The tension, the embarrassment, the ridiculousness of the entire situation—it all disappeared under the fact that she was right there, close, real, choosing this.
My heart was beating so hard it felt like it might actually hurt, and I wrapped my arms around her without thinking, holding on tighter than I meant to.
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled against her, half-laughing again. “For… all of this. For hotboxing the tent.”
She let out a quiet laugh against my shoulder.
“Oh, darling” she said softly, “you have to know I’ve heard you fart before.”
I pulled back slightly, staring at her. “What?”
She smiled, just a little. “You’re not as subtle as you think.”
And somehow, that made everything feel lighter.
I pulled back slightly, still trying to process what she had just said, my brain lagging behind everything that had already happened. “What?”
Kimmy smiled, not teasing this time, just calm in a way that made it feel like she had been holding onto this longer than I had. She shifted a little in the sleeping bag, her forehead almost brushing mine as she spoke.
“I’ve heard you before,” she said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Especially when you’re sleeping. You’re loud as fuck.”
I stared at her, completely still. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” she replied with small laugh slipping out. “the thing that always had made me wonder is how can you built so much gas inside you, being so small, is not that I care, but it's intriguing” she giggled in very dorky way.
There was no judgment in her voice, no hesitation, just something simple and honest that made it impossible to argue with. She held my gaze for a second longer before continuing, softer now, like she was stepping into something she hadn’t said out loud before.
“And… I’ve kind of felt the same way,” she admitted. “About you.”
My chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t panic.
Kimmy let out a small breath and rubbed the back of her neck, like she was trying to figure out how to say something that didn’t come naturally to her. I could tell she was hesitating, which was rare enough to make me pay attention in a completely different way.
“I honestly never thought you could be in love with me,” she said, glancing at me with a half-smile that didn’t quite land. “I mean… I’m kind of a brute, you know? Not exactly subtle. I say dumb stuff all the time.”
I was about to interrupt, but she shook her head slightly, cutting me off before I could.
“I’m studying archaeology because I like being out there,” she went on, her voice quieter now. “In the dirt, in the wild, not thinking too much. And sometimes I felt like… I was forcing that on you. Like every year I dragged you into this whole camping thing.”
There was a pause, and for once she didn’t rush to fill it.
I didn’t say anything. I just watched her, because I love her face when she’s putting into words an elaborate answer, she’s brilliant, but she doesn’t like to show it.
“You’re different,” she added after a second. “You’re more… put together, city girl, you like things clean, predictable. I know you don’t like camping the way I do.”
“But I love that we do this together,” she said finally, softer than before. “We’ve been doing it since we were kids, and it’s always been our thing, so I just thought… you came because of that, because of our friendship and that made me incredibly happy, so… me too, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship with a confession that could go totally wrong.”
For a second, I just stared at her, trying to process what she had said. She had been holding back too. All this time, I thought I was the only one afraid of ruining what we had, and it turned out we had both been circling the same thing without saying it. It felt almost absurd, how much time we lost to that silence, but at the same time, something in me finally loosened and it wasn’t my tummy.
Then kimmy added
“I’m sorry if… all the boyfriends and girlfriends I had made it worse for you,” she went on, her tone steady but thoughtful.“I was trying to figure things out. I thought maybe it was supposed to feel different, you know? But it never really did.”
She paused briefly, her thumb brushing lightly against my arm. “Even when I started dating girls, it still felt off,” she added. “Like I understood it more, but something was missing. I thought it was just… me being bad at relationships or whatever.”
I swallowed, not trusting myself to interrupt.
“But it wasn’t that,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “It was just that none of them were you.”
The words landed quietly, but they settled deeper than anything else had that night.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The cold outside, the tent, the sleeping bag, the entire ridiculous chain of events that had brought us here—it all faded into the background, leaving just that space between us, finally clear of everything we had been avoiding.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, my grip on her tightening just slightly, not out of panic this time, but because I wanted to stay there, exactly like that.
“Okay,” I said softly, because it was the only thing that felt real enough to say.
She smiled, small but certain, and leaned in again, this time without hesitation.
I came into this second part with a lot more enthusiasm. I had a lot of fun developing the buildup between Sarah and Kimmy, giving it the space it needed was the entire reason this was in my drafts for over a year.
We stayed wrapped around each other inside the sleeping bag until sleep came easily. My last thought before drifting off was that we had an entire week alone in the mountains to figure this out, and for the first time, the weight I had been carrying in my chest started to feel lighter.
I love ur post so bad, I love ur page ur so realll
Thank you so much, that’s really sweet of you to say, I’m happy it resonates with you. also sorry for the late reply, the app didn’t notify me of your message 😭
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Sarah finally went camping with her bestie. - Part I
CW: fart kink/eproctophilia
The drive started out exactly how I had imagined it would—long, a little awkward, and somehow still charged with something I didn’t want to name. Kimmy drove like she always did, relaxed and effortless, one hand on the wheel while the other tapped along to the music, and every now and then she’d glance at me with that half-smile that made it impossible to tell whether she was about to say something nice or something that would ruin my life. I tried to act normal, focusing on the road ahead, but the combination of her presence and the slow, uncomfortable pressure building in my stomach made that harder by the minute.
At first, I thought I could ignore it, just breathe through it and wait for it to pass, but the longer we drove, the more insistent it became, until it was impossible to focus on anything else. I shifted slightly, hoping she wouldn’t notice, but of course she did. “You’re fidgeting,” she said casually, not even looking at me, and I immediately shook my head, replying too quickly with a “No, I’m not,” which only made her laugh under her breath.
I tried to redirect the situation before it got worse, telling her that next time we should rethink the snacks, maybe avoid anything that looked like it could glow in the dark, and she immediately turned it back on me, reminding me that I was the one who grabbed the gummy worms like they were treasure. “You had the sushi too,” I muttered, and she grinned, “I didn’t eat it, I’m not insane,” which, honestly, felt like a weak defense considering everything else.
The conversation stayed light, playful, the way it always was with her, but underneath it I was doing everything I could to stay still, to keep control, to not let the situation escalate into something I wouldn’t recover from. When I finally admitted—carefully, indirectly—that maybe we should find a bathroom soon, she just gestured at the empty highway and said, “Where? The trees?” and I groaned, telling her I refused to “embrace nature” like that, which only made her laugh harder as she called me dramatic.
I went quiet after that, focusing on breathing, on keeping everything contained, on pretending I was fine. For a moment, it almost worked. And then, without warning, something slipped out.
It was small, quick, but in the silence of the car it felt enormous. I froze instantly, staring straight ahead, hoping—irrationally—that if I didn’t react, she wouldn’t either. That hope lasted exactly as long as it took for her to turn her head slightly and go, “Was that—”
“The car,” I said immediately, the words coming out so fast they practically overlapped.
She repeated it—slowly, skeptically—“The car?” and I nodded, doubling down even though we both knew it made no sense. “Yeah, the car makes noises sometimes,” I insisted, and she let out a quiet laugh that quickly turned into something bigger, something she couldn’t hold back anymore.
“Oh my god, Sarah,” she said between laughs, and I tried to defend myself, telling her it was barely anything, that she was exaggerating, that if she hadn’t insisted on buying half the gas station we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. “I didn’t force you,” she shot back, still laughing, “you chose chaos,” and I crossed my arms, muttering that I had been misled.
When she offered to open the window, I agreed instantly, but even that turned into a joke when she hesitated halfway, asking what if a bug flew in, and I told her I hoped it did, which made her laugh again before finally letting fresh air rush into the car. I exhaled, relieved, thinking maybe that was it, maybe I had survived the worst of it.
Then she said, way too casually, “Just so you know… I’ve been holding one in too.”
I turned toward her slowly, already shaking my head. “Don’t,” I said, and she smiled in that way that meant she absolutely was going to. When she told me she had self-control, I didn’t even hesitate before saying, “You don’t,” and she laughed, which was apparently all it took.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t accidental. It was confident, immediate, and impossible to ignore.
For a second, I just stared at her, completely stunned, and she stared back, trying—and failing—not to laugh. And then something in me just gave up. The embarrassment, the tension, all of it collapsed at once, and I started laughing too, the kind that builds too fast to stop.
“You said you had control!” I managed between breaths, and she shot back, “I lied!” while I told her to open the window more, even though it was already open, and she insisted it couldn’t go any further, and somehow that turned into both of us laughing even harder, arguing over nothing while completely losing any sense of composure.
By the time we calmed down, the car was quiet again, but not in the same way as before. The tension was gone, replaced by something easier, something shared.
And sitting there, still catching my breath, still feeling the warmth of that moment linger, I realized something I hadn’t expected.
This wasn’t how I had imagined the trip starting.
But maybe it was better this way.
By the time we reached the campsite, my face hurt from laughing.
And I knew, with absolute certainty, that this trip was already out of control.
_________________________________
I’ve had this story sitting in my drafts for over a year. Life got busy, and honestly, I just wasn’t feeling it for a long time, which is also why I haven’t posted in a while.
But I finally came back to it, finished it, and decided to put it out there.
That moment when you hug your girl and you feel the smell of soap over her skin, then slowly you start sensing her sweat scent.
She's been out all day, it's summer, she didn't wanted to use deodorant, she kinda stinks, but stinks really good and you cannot stop huffing her; you feel a big shiver from your nose through your spine and it ends with a spasm in your clit, little by little your panties begin to soak.
You take off her clothes while you kiss her body, the scent under her boobs, under her belly, it's all just magnificent.
Until you reach her panties, you start sensing that piss smell, mixed with sweat and pussy juice and it's just mind-numbing, you cannot stop, you start fingering your pussy while you eat hers.
And it's so nice to end the day like that, and make your smelly girl cum just by eating her out.
So your gf works at a copy shop, it's a really small place with a lot of machines, so it's always hot in there, so it's summer, and she has been standing all day, carrying orders, paper, servicing the machines.
You come picking her up, and she talks about how was her day, she so tired, also she had to go number two in the worker bathroom as an emergency, she hates doing that.
And you're there looking at her and thinking that juicy sweaty dirty ass of her had been marinating during almost 8 hours straight, and she gives you that look, because she knows what you're thinking, and she is like, "hell nah hun I'm going to take a shower!" and you "f*ck no that ass and pussy are mine, and you're going to use my face as a throne because you're my queen".
She so embarrassed by that, but she loves the way you eat her out, and she knows she's not going to shower until you make her cum. 🥰
I'm so horny right now, and I cannot stop fantasizing about a femme friend that loves worshipping my ass.
She just grabs me while I'm checking my socials, or working on my computer because I just farted a small poot.
But she gets like crazy pulling my panties down in such a hurry because they want to eat my ass, and she needs to get off by huffing my stinky ass.
And he wouldn't care if I went to the bathroom earlier and didn't wipe well because I needed to finish some work quick; she even would clean me with their tongue. 😳
She's so much a dom, and they take hard whiffs and sniffs, and I'm just like there moaning and squirming.
And yes, I referred to them with different pronouns; I just want a femdom huffing my ass. 🥰
Not hornyposting haha, but just wanted to let you know if you get severe cramps during your period you may want to watch out for other symptoms of endometriosis!! Most people (including doctors) assume you need a uterus to get endo but trans women can absolutely have it and doctors won't look for it. It can affect a ton of different body systems so if you start having weird mystery symptoms/pain it may be something to look into. Xoxo hope ur doing well 💋
Awn thank you, that post was made almost four years ago, I experienced cramps because I was takin' progesterone, mostly for boob development and growth, funny side effects: period cramps and ghost pains, also it made me cry a lot.
Now I'm just taking E, so the severe cramps and other symptoms just stopped, now I experience ghost pains every now and then, but nothing that severe.
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They can be so raunchy! my favorites are those that smell like sulfur when you can feel how dense they are because of that burning sensation in your nostrils; it gets me instantly wet. 🙈
Oh, and transwomen can have periods too, so this experience is not exclusive to people with uteruses; we don't bleed, of course.
As for me, I get extreme cramps every month, my boobs get swollen, I get insanely horny, and my digestive system turns into a toxic waste factory.
And I just want to feel the warm hands of a cute girl while rubbing my tummy. 🥺
we only have one bathroom and it's downstairs, my deep dark fear is going down so fast because I'm about to sh*t myself and slip on the way down and going on my pants because the pain is stronger 😰
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Senior secretary Eiffie is responsible for supervising and training a new junior administrative staff. She accidentally caught him watching fart porn during lunch break; she pretended not to notice because she has bigger plans for him. 🤭
Imagine you're returning home from the new year's party, it's a hot summer night and your apartment has been accumulating heat all day so is a very hot room.
That's what happened to me last night.
I just laid in bed and I ripped a very long warm fart, it felt so nice I might have wet a little.
I though it was regular gas, but no, I had ton of cheese during the new year's cocktail, suddenly the room got filled with a numbing sulfur smell my wife had to turn on a fan, because the smell won't leave the room. 🤭
