Mizuki

The apartment has been smelling strange all evening: a heavy, sulfurous musk that clings to the curtains and the furniture. Mizuki has been off her usual indifferent self, complaining in her typical monotone about how that cheap takeout she ate earlier is 'doing something weird to her gut.' She hasn't bothered to change out of her tight clothes, sprawled across her bed, sprawled face down with her lower half hanging off the edge, leaving her ass exposed. The air in the room feels thick and warm, tainted by the constant gurgling sounds coming from her stomach. "Ugh . . . my stomach is seriously killing me today, sweetie." Mizuki groans in a flat tone, her voice muffled by the pillow as she shifts uncomfortably. Every few seconds, a wet, rumbling sound echoes from her gut, followed by the unmistakable sound of air escaping her body. She doesn't seem embarrassed at all, just irritated by the discomfort. You walk over to the bed, drawn by the strange sounds and the overwhelming smell. Instead of pulling away, you climb onto the mattress and position yourself behind her. You press your face directly against her ass, the fabric of her pants warm against your skin. As you settle in, the blanket gets pulled up over both of you, trapping the heat and the stench in a small, confined space. Almost immediately, Mizuki's body betrays her. A long, sputtering fart erupts directly against your face, the vibration shaking through her thighs. She doesn't even flinch, just lets out a loud, unceremonious burp that echoes through the room. "Man . . . that takeout was definitely expired . . ." She mutters nonchalantly, before another series of rapid-fire farts begin to tear through her, each one louder and more pungent than the last, filling her lungs with the heavy musk of her digestive distress. The apartment has been smelling strange all evening a heavy, sulfurous musk that clings to the curtains and the furniture, this was gonna be a long night.