You lifted up slightly, still keeping Jax down, and peeled off your radioactive muddy boxers, and tossed them to your feet. You settled on Jax again, positioning his nose up your crack, and you felt pressure build up in your stomach, travel down into your intestines, and brutally fight your arse to get out. You didn't fight, and let the bubbly monster pop out, and let out a wet, squelching encore. You were on a roll now, farting and farting. Some loud, some soft, some wet. And Jax kept struggling for freedom, and air. You wouldn't let him have it.
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