My eyes widen at the noise so similar to flatulence even though I know for a fact my buttcheeks aren’t flapping. Tears water in my eyes as I blink up at him. “That wasn’t…I didn’t—“ “Shhh, baby,” he says, his hand pressing down on my lower stomach. He surges forward another inch. “Your tight, tiny canal is emptying for me. It’s my victory horn.”
😅😅😅
