Stuck Between The Urge To Have Someone Sit On My Lap And Rip Nasty, Burbly Ass On Me For Hours Or For

stuck between the urge to have someone sit on my lap and rip nasty, burbly ass on me for hours or for me to sit in someone else’s laps and rip nasty, burbly ass on them for hours

Thank God It's Friday

finally another fic, featuring Matt the Slob 😏

CW: eprocto, eructo, sharts, mentions of piss, and slobby behaviour 🥴

Living with Matt feels like the world's worst cosmic joke and you don't like it.

You don't. You don't.

You don't like that his consistent BO is becoming bizarrely familiar or that you can tell what he had for lunch based on the stench of his burps. You don't like that you wake up early because his morning flatulence practically shakes the walls or that the shower tile is slowly turning yellow from how often he pisses into the corner. You don't like that there are strange and questionable stains on the fabric of the couch, that the toilet always needs plunging, that you inexplicably find bottles filled with urine all over the place because he's too lazy to head to the bathroom, and you especially don't like that he's something of a casual nudist that has no shame being completely naked in front of you while he relaxes. It's a terrible problem for which you hold no blame, and it's completely, entirely unavoidable how you always, always end up spending the evening watching movies together every Friday night with a huge meal and a few drinks.

You tell yourself it's because you want to spend the night in instead of out with your friends (who are blowing up your phone) and it's a wholly unfortunate coincidence that Matt happens to have Friday nights off.

Definitely unfortunate. Definitely unavoidable.

Tonight you're watching an old alien horror movie with bad special effects and even worse acting. You're tucked into your preferred armchair beneath a blanket, and Matt is lying in his usual way along the entire couch. He laughs and points out one plot hole or another, but you haven't been able to focus on the content of the movie since the opening credits.

If there's one thing that gets Matt gassy above all else (and there's definitely at least two dozen things) it's pizza. Specifically, the meat deluxe pizza with extra onion from your usual take away place. Between the onion, the grease, and Matt's refusal to acknowledge his intolerance of dairy, he's been letting out monstrous belches and noxious farts all evening with an utter lack of shame. His flatulence is often loud enough to drown out the TV entirely, but this isn't quite what has you distracted. Nor is it the fact that he's utterly naked, unashamed of his nude body in front of you. If anything, listening to a naked Matt rip ass while you try to watch a movie is astonishingly routine.

No, the problem this evening is that Matt clearly needs to take a dump, and seems prefer tempting fate than walking the 10 feet to the bathroom.

You spot the slightest twitch of his leg from the corner of your eye, like he's deciding if he wants to part his legs further or not. Lying on the cushions, arm beneath head, one leg bent at the knee and the other hooked over the low back of the couch, Matt doesn't seem to care that his entire crotch and ass is open to your gaze. His soft cock flops gently to the side as he scratches beneath his balls, letting out a little grunt of relief as he does, and you can't help but watch every pass of his fingers against the thick hair at his taint. It's a brazen act that you shouldn't look at, shouldn't watch, but your eyes are glued to his shameless indulgence.

His fingers pause, halfway through a thorough scratch of his scrotum, and you know what's coming even before you see his asshole twitch open within the thicket of hair. A short, loud ppllorrrrft of gas escapes him, and you spot a flash of something brown within his rectum before it retreats.

"Ugh." Matt shifts his hips up to push out a longer, sloppier fart while you try to ignore the hot flush crawling across your face. The fluttering gape of his hole reveals the dark tip of a buried log that's really far too close to coming out. It ends with a soft bffllrrt and a wink. "Ah, fuck. That cheese is wrecking my guts," he says with a chuckle, taking a moment to sniff his fingers before reaching back down to continue scratching. "Oh man, that stinks."

You're too overwhelmed by the show he's giving you to form a proper sentence, so you make some kind of noise of acknowledgement and try to drag your eyes back to the movie.

Matt makes it hard, though. He shifts from scratching himself to massaging his bloated gut for a while, pressing down beneath his navel with a gentle palm and dragging his hand up around one side of his abdomen and back again. He works up a few low belches that he releases with a sigh, but nothing from the other end. He seems to be empty for now, at least. Or maybe just clogged up.

You glance between his legs again, and can't believe what you see. The thick, hard tip of a turd is openly visible, tucked just within his asshole. You can see just how massive the log is, wide enough to stretch open Matt's tired hole without coming out; it remains unmoving, stuck at the final ring of muscle and unwilling to go further.

You're hot from head to toe (from embarrassment, probably) and you can't look away. His hole twitches and bulges with the strain of the massive load that's ready to come out, and yet Matt remains fixated on the TV.

"Hey," you say, fighting to keep your voice level as Matt glances at you. "Do you, uh. Do you wanna go to the bathroom?"

There's no way to misinterpret what you're saying, or why you're saying it. Matt's increasingly stretching hole is literally in your line of sight.

But Matt shrugs and looks back at the screen. "Nah, I'm good," he says, rubbing his hand over his gut again. His asshole flares and shifts, and a revoltingly muffled fart rumbles around the bulging log, poking it out a little before it recedes once more. "Mmm. I don't wanna get up just yet."

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. There's no way you'll convince him to get up before he wants to, and you're confident he won't actually take a dump on the couch cushions. Fairly confident. Somewhat.

You force yourself to watch the movie, attempting to distract yourself from the turtleheading log just out of your vision. Matt continues to rub his stomach and vent his gas, at some point during the film turning onto his side to clamp his cheeks together. This only makes his farts louder and bubblier, but you can tell by the way his cheeks clench that he's struggling to hold back what must be an urgently massive load.

Near the end of the movie, you hear a grunt and glance over to see Matt's leg lift a little to push out a truly sloppy, gooey sounding fart that bubbles so forcefully though his asscheeks that you can see them ripple with the vibration. Worse is the final burble that shoots out a marble-sized chunk of shit right between his cheeks.

"Ooh," Matt sighs, panting with the exertion of expelling his stuck gas. He chuckles after a moment, patting his belly with one hand. "Think I sharted on that one. Felt good though." He grunts and rolls over a little, pulling aside one hairy cheek to give you a better view of the mess currently smushed between his cheeks. "Can you check? Did I leave a stain?"

You clear your throat and try to find your voice, eyes glued to the smear of brown along his crack. "Not on the couch," you manage to say. You have no idea if that's actually true.

"Oh. Great," he replies, readjusting the pillow he stuffed under his head to better see the TV at his new angle. He makes no move to rise from the couch and take care of his now dirty ass. "Thanks, roomie."

You nod faintly and return your eyes to the screen, pretending to watch the movie and desperately trying to ignore the smell. There's a quiet, whining fart from Matt's dirty ass, and despite the stench and the disgust and the embarrassment, you can't help but wonder if you could order extra cheese on the pizza next week.

Idea: super gassy slob bf who has a select pillow/cushion he always farts into when he's playing video games or on his phone or just doing nothing. Just sitting on it and ripping rank ass for hours, too comfortable to move... sometimes he's not wearing any boxers, sometimes he sharts into the pillow (maybe both), but it always fuckin stinks with his gas. Oh and he'll fart into it in front of you shamelessly ofc -🐺

hhhhhhhhh yessss 🤤 the sound of monstrous farts being ripped deep into the fabric is so bassy it's almost infrasonic, accompanied by the occasional splutter of a shart that makes him grunt in satisfaction... ugghhhh just a slobby nude bf staining a pillow so casually while you get to listen and watch 😳😩

3 burping pros at the same room

Imagine you’re on a date with your fave. Before going to the fancy dinner with you, they met with their friends and had a lot of greasy snacks that are now sitting heavily in their belly. Still, they don’t wanna be rude, so they order a bunch of food on top of it all. The moment they see you they realize how bloated they are. While talking to you, they hold their butthole clenched as they fantasize about sitting on your lap and farting to their heart’s content. Their desperation is growing and they’re starting to think they’re gonna loose control as the waiter brings you your main course. Adding more food makes the pressure insufferable, so they try their luck with subtly farting. They release a long silent fart that has been marinating in their stomach for a couple of hours and gained putrid smell of concentrated hot shit. While the terrible stench assults your nostrils, your fave doesn’t even notice bc they’re too used to their own bodily smells. Seeing you don’t react (either out of politeness or bc you secretly enjoy it) they decide that being subtle was successful and so they keep stuffing themselves with food, every few moments letting out out lingering silent but deadly explosions. They feel pretty confident as you get brought dessert and so start releasing rumbling farts into the fancy seat. You of course pretend not to hear anything, or see them lifting up one leg to let go another eggy hiss and keep chatting away.

They grow really fond of you and offer to go to your place and watch a movie. You agree and drive the both of you there. Your fave quickly gets desperate again during the long journey and turns up the music as they shamelessly rip ass, just a little bit too loud for you not to hear. As they try to relieve themselves of most of the bloat before they enter your home, they make your car smell more or less like an outhouse in the middle of summer next to a baked beans eating competition.

You two finally arrive home and you show them around. As you pick your movie, your fave takes one of your decorative pillows puts it down on the sofa in front of the tv. They sit on it and you sit next to them, moments later they put their arm around you. You two sit calmly, nicely cuddled up as your fave, still bloated, relieves themselves by letting farts rumble deep into your pillow. As they put a blanket over the both of you, you’re almost stuck in a dutch oven, forced to pretend that you don’t smell some of the worst stenches nature has to offer. As you cuddle, your fave’s fart start getting louder and nastier, but they’re still convinced you didn’t notice anything.

(scat warning)

Keep reading

Your fat, goth roommate had some problems with ripping ass while he slept. You never talked to him about it, but jeez, he could be gassy. It was like as soon as he hit pillow, loud, booming farts blasted from his fat rear, adding a heavy, pungent stink to the air.

You might've pretended to be grossed out by it, but secretly you loved it. He was a perfect fat slob. He was a deep sleeper too, so sometimes, when he was out cold, you'd peel down his black, sweaty underwear off his massive, swampy ass, listening to him blasting more rancid gas, before you couldn't resist anymore and plunge your face into his deep ass between his fat cheeks, letting his rip ass directly in your face, deeply inhaling his acrid stench. Everything about him was just irresistible, you couldn't get enough.