Dumb bitch friend who thinks they can pull off the crop top look at the party but in the end is clearly bloated like a blimp and burping non stop because the 4 cheesy tacos do not mix well with a milkshake. You can clearly hear their huge stomach rumble violently but of course they deny their slobbish behaviour
Imagine you're at a bar with me and a few of our friends. There's an event going on, and the music is blaring. That, along with the din of several conversations happening at once, means it's much too loud for comfort inside. So, after we grab our drinks, we move to the patio and grab a seat. You sit beside me. Because of course you do.
The music can still be heard from out here, but the sound has been dulled, softened. We can actually hear each other talk, so that's enough for us. One of our friends strikes up a conversation, and the rest join in.
As they chat away, I notice that you're uncharacteristically silent tonight. You can be quiet at times, sure, but not this quiet. I glance at you from the corner of my eye while sipping from my Rum and Coke, half-concerned, half-curious.
To my amusement, I realize you're doing the same. Stealing glances when you can, as if you can get away without me noticing. I suppress a smile.
I don't blame you. The shirt I'm wearing isn't tight exactly, but it's a close fit. The neckline is low enough to give just a peek of cleavage, and the outline of my breasts is obvious.
But I know you. I know that's not what's caught your attention.
The curve of my belly ends where it sits heavily on my lap. My free hand is resting on it, hoping in vain that the touch will somehow relieve the fullness left from the big meal I had earlier. Well, that and the carbonation of my drink.
As if on cue, I feel air creep up my chest, up my throat. There's an accompanying gurgle that's barely audible. Not quiet enough for you to miss, though. I can practically see your ears perk up.
Such a cutie. I think you deserve a treat.
Without a word, I move your chin so that you're facing me. You're caught off guard by the suddenness, yes, but also by the intimacy of the gesture. You start sputtering, asking what I'm doing, and I can feel your cheek heat up as I place my palm on it.
Instead of responding, I let my kiss be an answer. Your mouth moves hesitantly, and I can probably guess what you're thinking right now.
Is this really happening? They're kissing me? In front of our friends?
You've never been one for PDA, have you? And yet, as I press further into you, slipping my tongue between your lips, you can't bring yourself to pull away. Instead, your mouth opens to me, and your hands grab at my waist to pull me closer. I can't stop myself from smiling this time.
I let you get into it. Really into it. It's probably not appropriate to be full on making out in front of our friends, huh? If they mind, I can't tell. The only one I'm focused on right now is you. I want to make sure you feel real good.
And I think I know how.
The belch that launches out of me and into your mouth is rumbly and deep. I feel you tense up in response. The burp tastes vaguely of coke but, surprisingly, it tastes most like the dumplings I had earlier. I guess I don't mind sharing my dinner with you.
You haven't pulled away yet, and the next hiccup-burp catches us both off-guard. Whoops.
There's still air in my chest, and I let out one last short, harsh burp into the kiss. My stomach, while still full, feels like it's deflated a little.
I pull away and say, "That's better." I sigh, genuinely relieved. And then I smile because, wow, your eyes are like saucers right now. I look at our friends -- practically at the same time that your head swivels around to do the same -- and they're too stunned to comment.
"Sorry about that," I say to them. I assume I don't owe you an apology, my little burp receptacle.
When conversation amongst our friends awkwardly resumes, you're still dead silent. Only, this time, I know why. You're not paying attention to what anyone else is talking about; you're replaying those burps in your head over and over, committing them to memory. Maybe you're even fantasizing about experiencing it again already. Imagining what it would be like to grab my belly instead of my waist, the way you really want to.
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