Irish Thunder

>Your peaceful sleep is interrupted by blinding rays of light, the morning sun caring little for the hangover hammering your skull
>You instinctively retreat into the bed, pushing your face deep in the furry companion beside you
>Getting a full whiff of familiar body odor cut with Irish Spring in the goat’s fur, vague memories of what happened last night came flashing back
>For St. Patrick’s day your girlfriend took you pub-crawling all night
>She may have been short, but she was built wide like a barrel, and doubtlessly sloshed with more alcohol than one right now
>You had no idea how she did it, but she out drank you and just about everyone else with countless pints of ale, proudly making the rafters shake with endless acrid belches after slamming each drink
>Pushed into her beer belly, you could hear the bloated sphere churn and bubble like a brewery, the noises of her system noisily breaking down a concoction of endless inexpensive swill and possibly a couple chewed beer cans
>All your stirring in the bed however caused her rectangular eyes to crack and a long yawn to break out
>”Ooooooh, me gut’s as tight ‘s a drum…”
>In mutual agreement her midsection gave an obscenely loud watery growl, making her wince as she softly ran a hand through your hair
>”Might want te’ take cover fer this one. Feel like’a feckin’parade float.”
>You simply groaned in recognition, unwilling to budge in your current state
>”It’s yer funeral, and I’m berying you Catholic if ye can’t handle a wee bit of morning thunder from a lass.”
>Unwilling to heed her warning, you felt her shift and flick her stubby tail while her gas factory continued to broil like thick syrup
>Pinned down both by you and the heavy digested balloon in her belly, she simply spread her legs and grunted to fix her growing problem
>A muffled droning hiss erupted from her chubby twin mounds, rising up and down like a zipper moist with sweat
>Unfortunately for you, much of the steam leak from her intestinal distillery was redirected at you
>A nightmarish mixture of cheap skunky beer and questionably cooked greasy beef from bars made a sulfurous attack on your nostrils, overpowering her previous scent
>Just a little sniff was enough to make you cough and your eyes shoot open, but in your current condition the effort of leaving her plush side made it narrowly worth staying
>At least she was done after getting that out of her system
>”Peh, that was a trifling little ‘un.”
>Shifting onto her side while still gently cradling your fumigated head, she couldn’t see your dawning horror as she continued to gurgle ominously below
>Pulling up a leg with her arm, her bloated curve flexed underneath your head as she forced out a hefty grunt
>Her strained face was rewarded with a real meaty hum of raw flatulence leaving her naked rump like furry quaking jello
>This roaring expulsion of soupy funk effortlessly dominated your small apartment with another bubbling serving of her fresh gas
>Your face turned as green as a 4-leaf clover as the explosive fart trumpeted past the five second mark, but her face simply melted in bliss
>She would keep polluting the atmosphere with her sickly sweet and sour perfume for a ruthlessly long time, the air almost becoming spicy and further drying out your dehydrated throat
>Awash in disbelief a woman (or anyone) could rip serious ass like this, you questioned if a forgotten order of ghost pepper wings explained how your eyes were watering
>Rising and falling in pitch, her tremendous ass blast ended just as abruptly as it started, punctuated by a satisfied moan of relief
>”Aaah! Oh that’s a grand start! Now wer in business!”
>Struggling to keep your nausea in check between the lingering scent in your every breath and her worrying warning, you paused when she gave a quick peck of her lips on your forehead
>Lovingly petting your head, she gave you a bit of hope
>”Don’t worry meh strappin’ lad, I’ll crack ah window when I get up…”
>Scratching her cheeks idly as another toxic burble oozed out from behind her, she continued to simultaneously put you through heaven and hell wedged under her heavy goat milk reservoirs
>”I’m fixin’ to piss like a raceherse after this an’way, just need ta’ loosen a few good ones fer tha road.”
>As crude as she could be, you still remembered exactly why you loved her as she caressed you through the raunchy storm
>Reaching out your arms for a tight squeezing hug, you succeeded in pushing out the next ripe cheekflapper to contaminate the unfortunate room
>She giggled girlishly despite her heinous release, happy to have you with her
>Truth be told she would continue to crank out sloppy sweltering rippers that could wilt shamrocks for a lot more than “a few good ones”
>But even if you almost felt drunk again from huffing one too many puffs from the portly woman, you were both happy to snuggle a while longer