Face-Farted by Goddess Peach: A Special Delivery
The doorbell rang, and I sighed, rolling my eyes as I set down the camera with which I had been filming myself. This was the third time today that the delivery boy had interrupted my solace, and I was starting to lose my patience. Pushing my way through the door, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance as I saw him standing there, holding another package.
"What is it now?" I asked, my voice cool and collected despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Um, I have a package for Goddess Peach," he stammered, holding up the parcel.
I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer to him. "You know what? Why don't you come in and give it to me yourself? That way, we can ensure there are no more interruptions."
He hesitated, looking around nervously before stepping inside. As soon as the door closed behind him, I lunged forward, grabbing him by the shirt and forcing him back against the wall. He gasped, his eyes wide with fear as I pressed my body against him, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
"You've been very rude," I purred, my voice taking on a dangerous edge. "And I think it's time you learned some manners."
I reached around, grabbing his head and forcing it down towards my crotch. The anticipation was killing me, and I could feel my heart racing as I waited for him to make the first move. And then, just when I thought he wasn't going to do anything, he took a deep breath and leaned in, his mouth inches away from my pulsating sex.
I held my breath, squeezing my legs together as he leaned in closer. Then, slowly and deliberately, I released my grip on his head and lowered myself onto his face, feeling the warm rush of air against my sensitive skin. As soon as he felt the cool, damp heat of my pussy against his face, he recoiled in shock.
"That," I said, my voice dripping with venom, "is what you get for interrupting me."
And with that, I began to fart—not softly or discreetly, but with all the force and power that my body could muster. The stench was overwhelming, filling every corner of the room and assaulting his senses. He gagged and choked, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to breathe through the thick cloud of gas that surrounded him.
As I felt the last of my farts escape from my body, I smiled cruelly and pulled away. "Maybe next time," I said, walking past him to retrieve my camera, "you'll think twice before disturbing me."
With that, I turned and walked out of the room, leaving him coughing and wheezing on the floor. As I walked down the hallway, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the thought of what had just happened. After all, I was Goddess Peach, and I always got what I wanted—even if it meant giving someone a special delivery they wouldn't soon forget.
