#lotsa-writes

“Mate, seriously?”

“You know I always prepare for stuff like this!”

Logan places the six pack of beer on the coffee table, wiping the condensation on his shirt soon after. The cold air from the fridge shifts loosely around the cans, brushing softly against Tyler’s bare knee.

Logan and Tyler are dorm mates, and not only that, they’re good mates too. Things immediately took off when they met during orientation, almost as if some unknown force in the universe was pushing them together like opposite ends of a magnet. They spent most of the day discussing topics that they were both fortunately interested in, sharing classes and already making plans for when they could talk again. Even they couldn’t believe how loud they laughed when they saw the rooming plans pinned to the wall.

Rooming together didn’t disrupt the flow. They fit together like a satisfying puzzle piece, even during days where their schedules clashed, because that same unknown force seemed to really like them in particular (compared to their next dorm neighbours’ constant bickering over the laundry, at least). However, there was one thing that neither of them expected the other to possess no matter how much they chatted beforehand: laddy tendencies.

Obviously it’s nothing out of the ordinary; they’re still guys. Sometimes they leave dirty clothes out, sometimes they cheer a bit too loud when their football team wins, sometimes they pulled juvenile pranks- but with Logan being a generally well put together person and Tyler being a quiet, happy-in-the-background fellow, immaturity wasn’t something that immediately sprung to mind when they saw each other. Getting shitfaced during the weekend with no classes the next day can bring something out of anyone though, and Tyler offhandedly mentioning how many burping contests he’s won in his lifetime ignited something competitive in Logan. Tyler seemingly felt the same spark once he saw the look Logan was giving him.

Now there are six cans of frosty beer on the coffee table, and Tyler and Logan are each breaking one off in preparation. “Do you take precautions with everything?” Tyler asks playfully, his can snapping loudly under the pressure of the pull tag.

“Yeah, mate!” Logan’s can cracks just as sharply. “I mean, most of the time I don’t need to, but you never know.”

“Right, right. So who’s starting first?”

Logan purses his lips in thought and glances down at his can. The water droplets dotting the outside gather around his thumb and the bubbles inside fizz like a roaring crowd at a concert. Suddenly, the moisture in his mouth evaporates.

“I can, if you want.”

“Ooh, that eager to beat me, eh?” Tyler teases with a toothy grin, cockney accent emphasised extra hard.

“Of course,” replies Logan with a confident brow raise. He doesn’t let Tyler get another word in before he presses the can to his lips and starts chugging.

Well, chugging’s a strong word. Logan’s more of a sipper, especially since the bitterness of the golden liquid doesn’t tickle the back of his throat in the way most other alcohols do, but he can’t deny that the iciness quenches a thirst he didn’t know he had. After four admirably sizes gulps, he pulls the can away and exhales a small cloud of cold air.

“Alright.” He adjusts his posture. “Okay.”

He rests a hand against his upper stomach, drawing in and releasing slow breaths. His hand wades up and down as his stomach takes in air. Tyler watches, suppressing a chuckle at the concentration in Logan’s face. It doesn’t take long for a familiar rumbling to be heard beneath Logan’s hand, travelling further up his chest until-

“BUUuuurrrp! Jesus Christ-“ Logan pants, holding a fist up to his mouth to conceal another burp. “Excuse- oh, uh, yeah. Beat that.”

Tyler lets that chuckle out. “I forgot you had manners. That’s gonna be hard to stop once we get going.”

The can reaches Tyler’s lips and he starts actually-properly-for real chugging, his face unchanging as the liquid slides down his throat. Logan catches himself watching, anticipating the monster he’s most likely going to have to beat. He notices Tyler’s Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow, rolling in a smooth wave each time and accompanied with a wet, sloshy gulp. He may be seeing things, but Logan swears he can see the corner of Tyler’s mouth curl up in a confident grin around the can.

He comes back around when Tyler pulls the can away and wipes his upper lip. Huh. That was odd. Why was Logan lost in thought? All Tyler was doing was chugging a beer, that isn’t generally something to lose track of things about. Better yet, why did the bubbles in his gut feel so tight when it happened.

Tyler draws in a breath, not giving his stomach a chance to gurgle before a roar of a belch comes out of his mouth. It surpasses Logan’s by a decent amount, even ending on a sharp cut off.

“Wow, holy-“ Tyler starts, before cutting himself off with another, deeper burp. “Oops. Holy shit. You can count both of those as one.”

Logan stares in slight shock. Sure, he’s heard Tyler burp before (plenty of times, in fact. Tyler is surprisingly gassy) but he’s never heard such force from him before. Such power, such punch- had Tyler been hiding this all along? Was he always this hot? Did Logan even have a chance of winning this-

Wait. Rewind. Hot?

The tightness in Logan’s stomach returns, and this time he dreads the possibility that it’s not beer bubbles. He thinks back to watching Tyler chug and realising how transfixed he was on his Adam’s apple. Something about its smooth, almost graceful movements felt warm in Logan’s core, as did the cheeky grin Tyler hid behind his drink. It was ridiculously endearing. Oh god, what was this? Some kind of awakening?

“Logan,” chimes Tyler, waving a hand across his blank face. “You there, buddy?”

Logan snaps back, blinking rapidly to clear his head. Not the time to think about adventures in sexuality when the core of the discovery is right there. Waiting for you to burp. Because this is a burping contest. “Yeah, fuck, here. Sorry.”

He starts drinking again, only to pause one sip in as a sudden realisation hits him in the head like a metaphorical sledgehammer launched from a cannon. He didn’t feel this intensely about Tyler before tonight, before the contest started. He saw Tyler’s throat convulse with swallows and felt his own dry up. He felt his burp rattle his ear drums and heat up his neck at the same time. It wasn’t just Tyler he fancied, it was what he did.

Maybe he wouldn’t have realised had he not noticed the same burning feeling upon taking a swig himself.

He lowers the can after only taking two measly sips. Suddenly, Logan isn’t so sure he wants to win anymore. This is the very start of the contest, four entire cans have been untouched, and if he’s already feeling this hot and this bothered? If it really is what he thinks it is, how is he going to hold out for the rest?

“That’s it?” Tyler asks lightly. “I don’t think you’re gonna get much with that, mate. My granny can knock it down faster than that.”

Logan grimaces as he tries to shift the heat in him. “Gimme a second, it’s- it’s building.”

Though he was partially bluffing, something does start to build in his chest. It’s smaller than before, but it’s notable enough that when he sits up, something immediately slips out.

“Urp.”

Just about something, anyway.

Tyler, now reclining against the wall with his feet propped on the bed, raises an eye brow. “Come on, you can do more than that. I’ll give you another try.”

Damn it. Still, that competitiveness is still sitting within him, and it overrides any worry about whatever embarrassing things might happen if he continues, so Logan repeats his technique. Hand on stomach, slow breathing, concentration…

Another burp surfaces, still quiet, but much longer, almost drawing itself out like a balloon. A lot of air seems to come with it and, to his horror, Logan feels the urge to moan. He manages to disguise it as a grunt of relief, but he worries that the warm in his cheeks is starting to become visible.

“There you go!” Tyler praises. “Way better! I’m still gonna win, but better!”

Logan grins zealously, one hand still resting on his stomach. “Yeah? Go on then, have a-“

Tyler belches so suddenly that Logan feels himself flinch. It’s another long belch, but with just as much power as the first, bursting out of Tyler’s mouth like he has no control over it, which would easily be assumed if not for the relaxed, confident expression on his face. Sure, his eyes are wider, but nothing else about him says that he’s surprised. It’s almost as if he’s been building it, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Logan definitely feels captured.

Tyler exhales as the rest of the burp leaks out. He slumps against the wall, eyelids somewhat heavy from the relief of letting that beast out, but all Logan can think about is how he looks like he’s been serviced in the best way possible. “Christ, these beers are strong,” Tyler drawls, examining the can.

“Yeah,” Logan laughs nervously, palms becoming sweatier. “They’re good, though. ‘s why I bought them-“

Then a whole new horror hits him when he shifts in his seat. Something feels tight. Something much bigger than before. While Tyler is focused on the can, he sneaks a quick glance down as himself and realises then and there that, yes, he did buy the right size of trousers and them suddenly feeling more snug isn’t a result of rapid weight gain in the last few minutes. If his blush was hidden before, it’s not hiding any longer.

“…hey, you okay?” Tyler asks, oblivious enough to not notice the boner but considerate enough to notice the flushing.

Logan instinctively holds his legs closer together, head jumping up to meet Tyler’s eyes, though he wants to do anything besides that. “Uh, can we pause? I need the toilet.”

Though a little suspicious, Tyler gracefully gives him permission, and Logan doesn’t waste any time leaping from his seat and speed-walking to the bathroom. Once he closes the door, he feels a hiccup try to sneak its way up his oesophagus, but he manages to swallow it down. Unfortunately, the other thing he wants to keep down won’t budge.

“What the fuck,” he mutters to himself, staring blankly at his burp boner. “What the fuck.”

Why is this hot? Is it hot? Is Logan just suddenly extremely horny for no reason at the worst possible time? He’s not a teenager anymore, those days should be behind him. Unless he really is discovering something about himself and Tyler really is as attractive as his stubborn member is telling him- but being roommates with him for three months should surely kill that allure by now. Maybe it’s that thing his classmate told him about in the library, about matching pheromones causing attraction to become stronger. That would mean that Tyler also-

His stomach gives a long, bubbly groan as the beer sits impatiently inside, and his trousers grow tighter. Nope, it’s definitely a fetish.

Logan can’t tell if the wave of heat that washes over him is nerves or shame- probably a stupid mixture of both- but he can’t let that stop him now, not when he has a chance to prove to Tyler that he can actually beat him at something, even if said something is disgustingly sexy and he’s not ready to admit it yet. He can push past it for the sake of friendly competition.

He turns to face the mirror, cringing at the space between his legs, and takes a deep breath. No more horniness, flush those thoughts away. Think about how weird it is to want to jack off to burping. Think about how people would find him gross for feeling that way. Think about how Tyler would feel-

Suddenly, something in his heart sinks. Of all people, Tyler is the one he should absolutely not want to be into this…so why is the thought of that being possible so disappointing?

At least the thought works to make his pants looser.

“Hey, you done yet?” Tyler calls from outside the bathroom. “These beers are gonna go warm!”

Logan swallows another burp threatening to escape from the startle and speaks with an accompanying deeper voice. “Yeah, coming!”

He unfortunately doesn’t get much relief when he returns, as the first sight he sees is Tyler leaning heavily against the wall with a hand delicately rubbing his somewhat bloated belly. It even gurgles a tiny bit.

“I need to stop chugging,” he says with a slightly pained strain in his voice. “Think I keep swallow- hic- ing air. You might beat me if I can’t get this up.”

God, he was so fucking stupid and hot. “Hell yeah, I will. Just watch.”

Despite the tension that only Logan seems to be feeling, the next few rounds go by fairly normally. The two serve back and forth with impressive burps, some increasing in volume, some in length, some becoming wetter as more and more beer travelled down their throats. There’s even a point where Tyler lets out such a loud burp that he and Logan cower in fear that they’ve alerted the neighbours, but after no aggravated knocking is heard, the two break into immature giggling instead. Thankfully for Logan, it’s smooth sailing.

After two and a half cans, however, the ship starts hitting treacherous waters.

It isn’t obvious at first- the clouded haze of drunkenness and good times with a good friend help hide it- but Tyler’s stomach isn’t the only one growing. After a solid, four second long rumble of a burp left Tyler’s mouth, Logan’s laugher causes something to audibly slosh, and that’s when his laughter turns into an uncomfortable groan. He looks down, almost in slow motion, and sees a firm, prominent ball of a stomach straining against his trousers. It’s a less embarrassing type of strain, but he knows and fears what this will lead to. Even after burping for an hour, how is he still this bloated?

“Uuurrp, hey, Lo’,” Tyler slurs, fighting for his life to stay upright. “Y’know, you- you can reeeally take- huurrp, urp- your fuckin’ liquor. Hic. D’you go out a lot?”

Logan swallows, unintentionally gulping a burp in the process. At least if he blushes now, it’ll be hidden by the buzz. “Uhh, sometimes. Generally I just stay inside and play games.”

“’s that why you’re holdin’ back?”

Logan’s hands run cold, and it’s not from the beer.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s ‘cause you’re shy, innit? Youuuurrrrrrp- you’ve been holdin’ back because you’re shy about b- about burp- HIC! Hic! Ugh, about burpin’ around me. C’moooon, mate! We’re friends! I’m not g’nna judge you!”

It feels like a logical impossibility that Tyler, tabled out of his mind, was able to come to that conclusion faster than Logan. That really was it, huh? He can’t bring himself to burp as freely now since he discovered that he has a thing for it, as well as a thing for Tyler and that’s not even mentioning the manners he still kind of holds on to. He’s holding back because letting go would be so much more embarrassing than losing the contest.

But to his horror, as he feels the air rumbling inside of him and trying to find an escape, he realises that this…also doesn’t feel that bad. In fact, the anticipation makes a familiar feeling between his legs return.

“Fuuuuck, ‘m so bloated,” Tyler whines, leaning on his arms in an attempt to stretch out his gut. His bare belly is peaking out under his shirt. “D’you mind if we call the contest off? I- buuuaarp- I’m gonna spew if I keep goin’.”

There’s a tiny bit of insane disappointment in Logan’s chest again (or is it just gas?), but he nods in understanding. “Yeah, that’s cool. You don’t look too great.”

Tyler eyes Logan with an offended, playful glare. “Aren’t you a charmer. Y’know, I thought the beer goggles would’ve worked a little.”

“They are!” Wait. “I mean, I just meant that you look kinda queasy. You know what I meant.”

Tyler laughs, drawn on longer than it would have been sober. “It’s fine, I know. Hlp- ugh, Jesus. I need to get this up.”

With a grimace, Tyler pulls himself up and manages to balance himself upright on the bed. Logan smiles, but feels that smile crash down once Tyler starts gulping. There’s no beer in his hand, no food in his mouth, just throatfuls and throatfuls of air being swallowed down into his already bubbling gut. Logan hates that his eyes are drawn to his bobbing Adam’s apple again.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Logan asks with an unintentional shake in his voice.

Tyler opens his mouth and pants. “Swallowin’ air so I can- urgh- so I can get these burps up. ‘m not forcin’ them, I don’t wanna-“

“Throw up on the carpet, I know. It’s just- are you sure that won’t make it worse?”

“It’s worked before.” Suddenly, Tyler’s stomach roars agrily, and his eyes widen. “Wait, I think it’s coming up-“

His words effortlessly blend together with the oncoming monster of a belch flying out of him, tonally bassy and thick and echo-y, and this time he actually does look surprised by the sound he’s making. He hunches forward, unable to keep hold of his perfect posture as the force of the burp controls him. Logan finds himself holding his hands up as some sort of useless shield against Tyler’s gas, and yet his stupid, perverted eyes can’t take themselves off of him. He watches every change in expression, listens to every bubble that surfaces through the burp, feels his crotch throb so intensely that he’s worried something might escape his jeans. Something in his starts to shift.

As the burp dies down, a few more unexpected ones leak out before Tyler is able to rest. “UUURRRrrp, buuuuurrrp, uuaarrrp, fucking hell. Sorry, that was kind of a lot even for me.”

Logan doesn’t respond. He can’t. He knows that if he tries talking, something else is going to come out. If that comes out, then something else is going to cum out (why is he so fucking cheesy), and that’ll be the end of things for him and Tyler.

Speaking of, Tyler raises a brow at Logan. “Mate, are you sure you’re okay? Don’t take what I- hic- what I said too seriously. I was just pokin’ fun, y’know?”

“I-I know,” Logan strains. “I’m fine.”

An ominous gurgle rolls within him. He bites back a whimper.

“…that doesn’t sound fine,” Tyler says questioningly, eyeing Logan’s taut stomach. “D’you need the toilet again?”

Logan shakes his head, though regrets it the moment he feels it dislodge a burp. “Urph- look, it’s- fuck- I can’t-“

The happy-go-lucky attitude has wiped itself from Tyler’s face, and he’s leaning forward more seriously. “Hold on, hold on. It’s okay. I’ll get you a bucket-“

Logan grabs Tyler’s arm before he can leave, though the action sends another rumble through his belly. His crotch is on fire. No matter what happens, Tyler’s going to find out and it’s going to be embarrassing, so he might as well take accountability for it.

“Ty, I think- I need t’ tell you something.”

Though worried, Tyler stops and listens.

“You’re right. I’ve been holding back,” Logan speaks in staccato. “I just don’t wanna be gross. I think I like you.”

Tyler’s eyes widen to saucer sizes. He’s not quite sure how to take this other than by rubbing the side of his neck. “Uh…well, I’m- damn, that’s flattering, actually. But tell me later after I get you the bucket-“

“There’s more,” Logan continues to force out, forcing everything else back in. “I can’t burp because I…I think I’m…”

Tyler’s feet grow cold. “You think you’re…?”

“I think I’m- I’m gonna-“

“Okay, hold on, I’ll get the bucket-“

“Shit, I’m gonna cum-“

“Where did I- wait, what?”

It hits him like an avalanche. Bubbling through his stomach, racing up his chest, sliding through his throat, a burp so massive comes barrelling out of his mouth at such an intense ferociousness that neither he nor Tyler are fully convinced it’s the kind of sound a human should make. It’s loud, it’s airy, it’s wet, it’s deep, it’s thick, it’s everything all at once, stuck together like the world’s weirdest Soundcloud sample. Logan feels his body convulse, legs twitching as every second passes, his crotch exploding in warmth and stickiness that he feels the urge to hold on to with his hand, though the added pressure only makes the burps that come after release with an equal level of strength. He can’t stop his eyes from rolling back, or from the drool that slowly leaks out of the corner of his mouth. Each burp and belch and hiccup flattens his stomach an inch, adding to the relief, making him cum harder- everything that he knew would and didn’t want to happen is happening, and yet it feels so fucking good.

A few more burps escape him. Then a few more, then finally, one last quivering moan and sigh tops the whole thing like a gross, piggish cherry. Logan can’t even try to explain himself through the panting.

“Fuck,” he burps one last time.

He knows what’s coming next. His face is a scalding red, and sweat beads on his forehead, but it’s more from embarrassment than the afterglow. Slowly, he turns around to face Tyler, who’s standing bone stiff like a he just stared at Medusa. The look of shock on his face could be used in a cartoon.

“…wow.”

“Um…’scuse me.”

“Jesus, did you just go to Cloud 9 or something?” Tyler asks, smiling with an impressed brow raise. “That sounded like that needed to come out for hours.”

Logan is confused by Tyler’s grin, but he quickly hides his face again. “It kinda did…um, I’m- sorry for this. This is disgusting, I’m sorry-“

He lifts his head up again when he hears Tyler sprint back to the bed. “No, no! This is cool, are you kidding? A burp that makes you spunk? I wanna do that.”

Logan feels like he’s going to explode again. “Really?”

“Yeah! It’d be fun!”

“Right,” Logan says measuredly. “Yeah, it was kind of- ah-“

Instantly, he slaps a hand over his mouth. In his post-glow daze and the relief of Tyler being cool, he forgot that his hand was still gripping his crotch. It squelches when he lets go.

It then all seems to suddenly dawn on Tyler quicker than it ever took for Logan himself to figure out. “Wait…is this a fetish thing?”

The relief starts to slip away and replace itself with white-hot shame again. “…yes,” Logan mumbles into his chest.

He’s surprised to hear nothing afterwards. No judgement, no disgust, not even mockery. Instead, he looks up to see Tyler flick something invisible away from his forehead and roll his eyes.

“Duh, no wonder you were actin’ the way you were,” he says lightly, that smile as wide as ever. “Why didn’t you say? It would’ve been fine if you just needed a wank.”

It comes just as suddenly as the belch, but Logan finds himself laughing. It’s not an awkward laugh, it’s genuine and full. He feels a weight lifted, despite it only being placed on his a few hours earlier.

“Well, thank you,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Still, I…I’m sorry I confessed beforehand. That’s probably made things awkward, huh?”

He expects Tyler to make a joke or to amplify the situation with teasing, but he’s stunned to find Tyler avert his gaze and smile in a way that he’s never seen before. Is he…shy?

“Thing is,” he starts, voice a lot more timid than usual. “I’ve, uh…kinda been meaning to tell you that I think I like guys…”

Logan just released a titan of a belch after holding it in for hours, making him cum in his jeans, all while after confessing his feelings to his roommate. All of which still didn’t deter said roommate from, in his own way, reciprocating those feelings right after. If Logan wasn’t on Cloud 9 before, he certainly is now.

“Holy shit…” he mutters under his breath. “Does…does this mean we’re dating no- BURRrrrp! Fuck! Sorry-“

Logan covers his mouth once again at the surprise eruction, though this time he isn’t as worried about the outcome. Tyler seems to agree, laughing like a twelve year old boy at the display.

“I guess so,” he says though a laugh, leaning back and letting out a burp of his own. “There you go. Our first burps as boyfriends.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but can’t wipe the smile from his face. Tyler is daft as hell, but he wouldn’t want it any other way. There’s a reason that he was drawn to him from the moment they met (and no, the burping wasn’t the cause) and with his new discoveries being accepted as soon as they were realised, maybe he can learn to be a bit more relaxed about his manners around his new boyfriend from now on.

“Uuurrp…buuurrrp- hlp!”

Before it can escape, they swallow down the lump of whatever they ate the previous day and feel it gurgle uncomfortably in their stomach. They don’t want to risk the feeling again, despite being seated over the toilet bowl for what feels like hours at this point. The chill of the porcelain is nice, but it can’t override the tingle of sweat dripping down the back of their neck.

Being sick sucks. Everyone knows that. No one wants a fever running through their head or a digestive system that decides to do anything but digest, not to mention the clammy palms and the tilting hallways and the dreams that feel like their own version of a virus- nothing about being sick is good, everyone can agree with that.

“Burp, uuurrp…huuurrrp, mmh…”

Well, most will agree.

They’ve often felt a strange excitement whenever they got sick, despite the throwing up and the aches feeling like hell. It was specifically whenever their stomach started to bubble, and the burps would come out. Short, constant, sickly burps one after another. Considering how good it felt to get them up, it’s a wonder it took them so long to realise why that was.

No matter, whether they knew the cause or not, it didn’t change the fact that it was kind of embarrassing.

“Buuuuurrrrrrp…mmm-mmhhrrrrp, hah…”

In a way, that only made it hotter.

With each burp, they feel their groin throb and their hips buck, though there’s nothing to buck against. “Fuck, I can’t stop-“ they mumble to themselves before a string of rapid, airy burps escape their mouth, causing the pressure in their belly to lighten and their eyes to lose focus for a second. At this rate, the tingles from the bug might as well be non existent, replaced with something hotter and sweatier that dares to travel further down between their legs with every expulsion.

Between their legs…

“Uuurrrp, hic, uurrrrrp…hm…”

Curiously, their hand slithers from the side of the bowl down their thigh, a few more stray burps leaking out with every second. The closer their hand gets, the longer the burps become, quiet but ever so wet from the rumbling in their belly. Suddenly, the heat in their core spreads throughout their entire body as their hand lands in the perfect spot, causing a deep gurgle to travel up their stomach and burst out of their mouth as multiple burps overlap each other, some loud and some quiet, but all of which relieve a little pressure building up in their body.

“Fuck,” they sigh, only after the onslaught is over. “That felt so fucking good…”

Their hand immediately goes to work, rubbing and massaging their tender area, close to bursting with heat. This is exactly what they needed. Each stroke slowly unties the knot in their belly, easing the tension in their muscles and allowing even more air to travel upward. The burps don’t feel as painful anymore; pleasure has overtaken any pain.

“Uuuurrrrp, oh…uurrr- hic! –rrrraaaap, o-oh fuck…”

Their free hand grips the toilet bowl tighter, threatening to slide off from the sweat. Really, it’s such an embarrassing interest. If you were to meet up with your lover for one night and, instead of sultry words and neck kisses, you spent the night belching along each other’s bodies and rubbing the pleasure out- it would kill the mood, surely.

Yet, whenever they think about having a partner, having someone to spend their whole life with, romantically, sexually, domestically, it always comes around to that. What would happen if they found someone just as interested as they were?

“Urp, urp…come on…BUUUOORrrrp- oh, there it is…”

A fantasy pops in their head. Them in the future, already having found said partner, and walking through the hallway when they hear commotion behind a door. They peak in and find it’s their partner, alone on their bed, burping with both hands resting between their legs and so blissed out that they don’t even hear the door opening. There has never been a more satisfied face than the one they see on their partner in that moment.

In the real world, their legs tighten around their hand, and they push out more burps.

“Buuuurrrrrp, uuuurrrraaaap, buuuooorrrp, aaaaoorrrrp, yeah…that’s it…”

In their fantasy, they walk into the room, careful not to startle their partner out of their arousal. Thankfully, they don’t seem too bothered- in fact, they react so shyly and delicately that it appears like they wanted to get caught. When asked how long they had been doing it for, they respond with ‘about half an hour’ before another round of burps tumble out of their mouth. Their moan is like butter.

A sickly gurgle snaps them out of the fantasy for just a second, unsure if it wants to bring up something else besides burps. After a few seconds, it appears to be a false alarm, and an airy, six second eruction comes out instead.

“Oh, fuck~ …man, I love burping…”

Their fantasy returns, and as their partner continues to burp and rub at themselves, they decide to join in on the fun. Making sure their partner is aware, they take in a deep breath and gulp down throatfuls of air, each one audible to their partner’s ear. Each bulge of their throat makes them tingly, and their partner’s eyes are now squarely on them. After enough air has filled their gut, they let it rumble and gurgle until it draws out an impressive wet belch, just as powerful as their partner’s. Judging by the way their partner tightens their legs, it worked like a charm.

“Urp, urp…”

They take a seat next to their partner, one hand already slithering it’s way up their leg. Their partner watches every move.

“Urp, burp, urp, urp, yeah…”

They let out a few more burps, their partner doing the same, until their hand meets their warmth and they jolt.

“Uuurrrp, that’s it…booorrrrp, ooorrrap, uurrp…”

Both of them slowly get lost in their own pleasure, rubbing, burping, rubbing, burping, moaning so desperately that it gets mixed in with the belches. They grow warmer, sweat beads down their faces, they can feel the peak-

“Uurrrrp, gonna cum…gonna- uuuUURRP, OOOoorrp, gonna cum, gonna cuuUUum- fuuuuuck, BUUUUURRRRAAAAAAP!”

The belch echoes inside the toilet bowl, and the heat between their legs reaches a climax as they grind the pleasure out through their hand. They swear that their face is glowing from the heat trapped behind their skin, and the bathroom seems to spin and melt around them. Is it from the fever or the cool down? At this point, they don’t care which one it is.

They rest their cheek on the cool porcelain, shaky and woozy but ultimately satisfied. Being sick sucks, but if it weren’t for being sick, pleasures such as this wouldn’t be able to be achieved.