By: causticblast
You're stirred awake by her classic giggle you've come to know and love, which she's unsuccessfully trying to suppress. The covers subtly move around you, getting heavier over your chest and leaving your lower body exposed to the refreshing morning air. You manage to fight down the smile that's creeping onto your face. She's done this a few times before - you know what's coming next.
The blankets are in place, and now the entire bed creaks a little as she gets into position above you. You open your eyes to sneak a peek, confirming your suspicions: the blankets gathered over your head means it's dark, but you can see and feel her body looming over you. Her knees on either side of your torso, her waist disappearing into the sea of blankets above you...and of course, her scrumptious rear, wearing only a pair of panties, hovering right over your face. The smile on your lips wins the fight, and you lie there, still pretending to be asleep, grinning like an idiot under her juicy buttocks.
An agonizing minute passes. You're not sure what she's waiting for.
"Wakey, wakey..."
You hear her call out to you, voice muffled through the covers. She gives her hips a subtle wiggle as she says those words. Judging from how quiet she sounds, there might be more than one layer of blanket between your head and the outside world. She's probably folded parts of the blanket over, giving it a nice double seal. And it's a pretty thick blanket already.
You know that responding to her, to show that you're awake, will make no difference in the end. You both know what's about to happen. But you choose to stay silent -- it's more fun this way.
Her giggles penetrate the covers again, louder than before. She knows you're awake, one way or another. Even if you weren't, what comes next would definitely wake you up.
You feel it before you hear it. A thick, sulfurous stream of wind blasts you in the face from her butt, from mere inches away. It begins with a silent hiss, with a massive amount of gas that you would never have suspected from its sound, before it rumbles into an audible growl. It ends bassy, like a tuba being played directly into your face.
"Hnnnaaahhh..." Her groan of pleasure from releasing that behemoth tickles your ears as soon as it's done. "Good morning, babe~"
Her knees are pinning down the edges of your blanket prison, keeping it airtight, ensuring that your whole upper body is cooking in her glorious, terrifying flatulence. There's even less space around you than you first assumed, and the available air has gone from stale to toxic in an instant. Your first breath is impossibly concentrated. Any thought that you might have gotten used to her gas by this point in your relationship is thrown completely out the window as you begin choking on her thick, hot winds. And that was only the first blast of the day.
"Morning..." You manage between coughs.
"Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" You can practically hear her pouting her lips in faux apology. Then she grunts again.
Your eardrums practically burst from the volume on this next fart. The bed shakes throughout its full duration, which is an impressive number of seconds longer than the first one. As the reverberations rattle you, she gently lowers herself over your face, bringing her volatile gas cannon even closer to your nose and mouth - but still not quite touching, in her usual teasing nature. You're tempted to lift your head up those extra few inches and plant your face right into the intoxicating crevasse.
The temperature around you rises noticeably now, but that's not where your attention is. The air under the covers is now rich with sulfur. A heavy meaty stink with a tint of sharp spice washes over you with every breath. Your eyes are definitely watering a little. Taking her out to dinner at that Peruvian place last night was proving to be a fantastic idea.
"Nnggahhhh..."
Without warning, she drops two more stink bombs into your blanket prison. You're not sure how much concentrated it can even get down here; every breath already feels like it's burning into your lungs and nose. Her guttural moan of pleasure is accompanied by a slumping shift in her posture.
You seize the opportunity. Drunk on her deliciously noxious fumes, you finally make your first counterattack. Your hands find the crook of her hips and pull her downwards. She giggles at your enthusiasm, playfully resisting your hungry approach for a few seconds before relenting. She wiggles her hips on her way down, and she settles her soft, supple buttocks right into your face.
"Mmmmmhhh..."
She hums with delight, riding your nose back and forth gently until she finds a satisfying place for it. Her underwear is deceptively thin. You find your nostrils kissing her at the ground zero of the recent display of flatulence, with your whole head pressing firmly into the ample flesh of her cheeks. The residual stench soaks itself deep into your nose and mouth, staining the inside of your head with a luscious odor that'll surely cling to you - and your memory - for weeks.
Her breathing grows heavy. Your fingers work their way towards her womanhood, earning a delicate gasp. It's a bit of an awkward position, with your arms wrapped around her thighs, but this isn't the first time she's sat on your face. She continues to ride you as you revel in the heavenly stench. Each breath is still as tainted as the first, tickling your nostrils with that eggy, meaty smell. You're honestly quite impressed with how much gas she's managed to pump out in such a short period of time, in only four farts.
"Mmm...I feel another barrage coming..."
You perk up. She gyrates on your face with more urgency, drilling your nose even deeper. Her stomach tightens, and another massive fart explodes out of her. Without anywhere else for the gas to go, your nostrils are hit with the full force for several seconds. Taking a blast like that is on another level; you can feel your lungs filling with her fumes, and you reflexively cough some of it back out. It was a bit more than you can handle at one time.
She, however, doesn't care. When she said "barrage," she meant it. Without warning, she tightens up and farts again. And again, and again. You stop counting after the fifth one. You estimate that around number sixteen is when her second bombardment ends.
Though each blast is shorter than her initial wave of gas, it's no less stinkier. With your airways practically glued to her rear exit, her farts relentlessly fumigate your nose and mouth. You're definitely not getting enough oxygen, and you start to feel hazy. Her gas is reaching dangerous levels in your system. But your hips tell a different story as they buck and rattle with desire.
"How does it smell, babe?"
You try to say something, but you find yourself only moaning in response. She giggles at your primal hunger for her farts.
"You'll have to be more specific...I can hardly smell a thing up here. I must have done a real good job of sealing you in down there..."
That's not too hard to believe.
Through the dizziness, it's hard to tell how time passes. But you swear she just stopped farting when you hear her say:
"Oohhh...Here comes another batch...Eat up while it's fresh..."
And she begins gassing you all over again.
Minutes pass, filled with the delirium of her horrendously beautiful stench rocketing up your nostrils. She's completely overstimulating your nose, and your tongue tries to return the favor, working in tandem with your fingers. Suddenly, she signals for you to stop.
"I can't resist anymore. Make some room down there."
With some careful adjustments, she brings herself into the dutch oven, her chest now pressed against yours. A little bit of gas definitely seeped out of the cracks in the blanket, but it hardly mattered. There's enough to go around.
She coughs, too - an involuntary reaction that just can't be helped for any human coming into contact with her farts. "Wow. It's really bad down here."
You can't help but correct her. "Really good, you mean."
"It's really fucking foul, is what it is." Her grin punctuates her pride. "Holy hell, I'm worse than I thought."
"It was stronger earlier."
"Was it?" She grins, then scrunches up her face. She keeps one eye open, looking longingly into yours. "Ahh...let me fix that...Ah, fuck!"
She leans to let out a silent stinker, and the smell hits the two of you at the same time. Its raw power catches both of you off guard, somehow standing out even in the toxic haze she's already created.
Watching her react to her own stench widens your smile. You seize the opportunity, and pull her in for a kiss. While you lock lips and your tongues dance, you know that neither of you have any choice but to breathe through your noses. You wait for her to pull back in protest, but she doesn't. If anything, you feel her breathing quicken.
Her gut is far from done. While you kiss, she continues to pump more gas into your dutch oven. You reach down and play with her buttocks, feeling their fleshy texture while each blast of gas blows past your fingertips. In response, her hand finds itself between your thighs, and her slow yet methodical fingers work their magic.
Both of your breaths grow faster and more frantic, greedily gulping down more of her fumes. Her gas acts as an aphrodisiac as you find yourselves transitioning into passionate sex.
As your breaths turn to moans, she pecks you on the cheek before whispering into your ear.
"Happy Valentine's Day~"