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I literally cannot stop thinking about Gigi and her cocoa cannon. You can just tell from her plump fat cheeks that her derrière delicacies are the most exquisite treasures. I often daydream about doing whatever it takes to smell her mocha musk. I fantasize all the time about Gigi squatting down over me visibly straining trying not to fart. She struggles fruitlessly to hold it all back to maintain the illusion of being ladylike, but even I can sense the inevitability. The telltale signs of her loud gurgling stomach, followed by sounds of her audibly wincing before succumbing to her flatulencistic fate. I'm already staring intently at her chocolate starfish which winks at me when she releases the gypsy gas. A loud booming fecal symphony trumpets from her gigantic dumptruck. The reverberations of the chocolate cacophony stretch over the next dozen seconds echoing in my ears. The toxic turbulence makes her ass cheeks ripple violently as the fart shoots out directly into my face. The succulent smell and taste fills my nostrils and mouth instantly. It is a spicy earth scent comprised of bergamot, ginger, lavender, and marjoram. Gigi collapses and faints from embarrassment while I crossover into the asstral plane of pure euphoria.
