Farting Sniffer - My First Fart Face sitting

[pornEmperror]

Farting Sniffer - My First Fart Face sitting

WATCH NOW

Furious Fart Face Sitting

In the dimly lit room, I sit atop a plush chair, my gaze fixed on the object of my obsession. A nervous fartingclub01 waits below, knees pressed tightly together as he anticipates my arrival. The scent of fear and anticipation fills the air, mingling with the musky aroma that emanates from his body.

As I lower myself onto his lap, my sweatpants-clad ass grazes his crotch, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. I lean forward, trapping him beneath me, my breasts almost touching his chest. His heart races in his chest, beating wildly against my own.

His hands grip at my sweatpants nervously, the fabric stretching taut over my round, bloated belly. I feel a rumble deep within me, a low growl that vibrates through my pelvis and up into his palms. He gasps, his eyes widening in fear and arousal.

Without warning, I release the first of many stinky farts onto his face. It's a loud, wet slap that splatters against his cheek and nose. His eyes water instantly, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tries desperately to breathe through the noxious cloud surrounding him.

I grin wickedly, taking pleasure in his discomfort. I lean forward once more, my breasts brushing against his skin. His cock twitches beneath me, betraying his desire despite the discomfort. I'm pleased by this reaction; it only fuels my need to dominate him further.

I continue my assault, releasing a steady stream of farts onto his face. Each one stronger than the last, each one eliciting a new moan of despair from beneath me. His hands clutch at my thighs, his nails digging into my skin, leaving shallow cuts that only serve to heighten my arousal.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I end my torment. Sitting up straight, I wipe my sweaty brow with the back of my hand and look down at him. He's a mess—tears streaked across his face, snot dripping from his nose, and a sheen of sweat covering his body. But there's also an undeniable sense of satisfaction in his eyes, a twisted gratitude for the humiliation I've put him through.

I stand up, my thighs rubbing against his chest as I tower over him. "Well," I say with a smirk, "that wasn't so bad, now was it?" My words hang in the air, echoing off the walls of the room. And for a moment, I'm not sure who's speaking—me or the voice in my head that's taken control.

I turn and walk away, leaving him there to stew in his own filth. But even as I exit the room, I can't shake the feeling that this isn't over. That the pull of this twisted fetish is stronger than ever, and I'll be back for more before long.

c4s_rewrite_done=1