This choice: Stretchy athletic shorts: Gassy Meal Time • Go Back...Chapter #7Shorts, Sweat, and Salsa: Heat Between the Cheeks by: AppleBottomJ   April's fingers grasp a pair of stretchy athletic shorts, the fabric rustling as she pulls them from the drawer. "These should do nicely," she murmurs, her voice tinged with sadistic delight. You feel a slight shift as she bends to step into the shorts, her movements causing you to slide even deeper into her crevice.
As April pulls the shorts up her legs, you feel the soft fabric brush against your exposed waistband. The shorts are a sky blue color, with a crisp white stripe running up each side. The material is lightweight and breathable, designed for comfort during intense physical activity. As they slide higher, you can feel the gentle pressure of the shorts pressing against you, pushing you even deeper into April's crevice.
The shorts settle into place, hugging April's curves snugly. The waistband sits just above your own, creating a double layer of confinement. The snug fit pushes you even further into the crevice between her buttocks. Your "face" is now firmly pressed against her anus, the puckered flesh seeming to pulse against you with each subtle movement.
April turns to examine herself in the mirror, adjusting the shorts slightly. "Perfect," she says with a smirk. "Now, time for some lunch. I've got plans with the girls at that new Mexican place downtown."
Your fabric heart sinks at her words. Mexican food? The implications are horrifying given your current position. April's words send a shiver of dread through your fabric form. Mexican food is notorious for its effects on the digestive system, and you're now trapped in the worst possible position to experience those effects firsthand.
She saunters out of the bedroom, each step causing you to shift uncomfortably between her cheeks. The movement of her hips as she walks down the stairs creates a constant friction against your sensitive fabric face. You can feel every flex and contraction of her gluteal muscles, amplifying your awareness of your precarious position.
April grabs her purse and heads out the door. Each step she takes causes you to shift slightly, rubbing against her sensitive areas. The friction is uncomfortable, and you can feel the heat building between her cheeks.
As she walks down the street, the summer sun beats down, causing April to break into a light sweat. The moisture seeps into your fabric, making you feel damp and uncomfortable. The heat intensifies the scents around you, amplifying the musky odor emanating from between April's cheeks.
As April continues her walk, the summer heat intensifies. Beads of sweat form on her skin, trickling down her back and seeping into the crevice where you're wedged. The first droplet that reaches you is like a tidal wave against your fabric form. It carries with it a concentrated burst of April's essence - a complex blend of salt, musk, and something uniquely her.
The taste is overwhelming. Your enhanced senses pick up every nuance of the perspiration. There's a sharp saltiness that hits you first, reminiscent of ocean spray but far more intense. It's followed by a musky undertone, earthy and primal. The combination is potent, almost dizzying in its intensity. You wish you could gag or turn away, but you're helplessly trapped, forced to endure every drop that slides down April's skin.
As more sweat accumulates, you feel yourself becoming increasingly damp. The moisture seeps into your fibers, making you cling even more tightly to April's skin. The heat and humidity create a stifling environment, intensifying every smell and sensation.
April's pace quickens as she nears her destination. Each step causes you to shift and rub against her sensitive flesh. The friction generates more heat, exacerbating the already sweltering conditions between her cheeks. You can feel her muscles flexing and relaxing with each stride, the movements sending ripples through your fabric form.
Finally, April reaches the Mexican restaurant. As she enters, a blast of air conditioning hits her, providing momentary relief from the heat. But for you, trapped between her cheeks, the coolness only serves to make the contrast with your warm, damp environment more stark.
She slides into a booth, the movement causing you to shift uncomfortably. The booth's vinyl seat squeaks as April adjusts her position, the sound echoing through your fabric form. You feel every minute shift and flex of her muscles as she gets comfortable. The pressure against you increases as her weight settles, pushing you even deeper into the crevice between her cheeks.
You hear the muffled voices of April's friends as they greet each other and settle into the booth. The chatter and laughter feels distant and surreal from your confined position. As April shifts in her seat to face her friends, you're acutely aware of every movement, every flex of her muscles.
"What should we order?" one of the girls asks excitedly. You can hear pages turning as they peruse the menu.
"Oh, let's go all out!" April exclaims. "I'm thinking loaded nachos to start, then maybe the spicy bean burrito for me. And of course, we have to try their famous jalapeño margaritas!"
Her friends enthusiastically agree, while you can only listen in growing dread as April rattles off her selections - each item more gas-inducing than the last. Your fabric mind races with panic. Loaded nachos, spicy bean burrito, jalapeño margaritas – each choice a nightmare for someone in your unique and precarious situation. You try to brace yourself for the inevitable, wishing desperately that you were anything but a sentient G-string at this moment.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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