By: Bczar99
The windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the snow that had been falling steadily since Chicago. Maya tightened her grip on the wheel as the rental car's tires skidded slightly on a patch of black ice. "GPS says twenty more minutes," she muttered, squinting at the dimly lit screen through her thick-framed glasses.
Next to her, Mia bounced in her seat like an over-caffeinated kid, her knee knocking against the glove compartment. "God, I can't wait to get home," she blurted out, practically vibrating with energy. "Dad's gonna make those peppermint mochas with extra whipped cream, and Mom’s gingerbread cookies—you know, the ones with the weirdly perfect amount of molasses?" She inhaled sharply through her nose as if she could already smell them.
Maya smirked but didn’t take her eyes off the road. "Yeah, sure. You just miss Mom’s cooking because UCLA dining hall food is basically prison rations." Mia threw a crumpled gas station receipt at her, which fluttered pathetically onto the gearshift. Twelve hours ago, they'd collided in O'Hare Airport—Maya fresh off her finals in Boston, Mia sunburnt from California—and now, Wisconsin’s winter was swallowing them whole. The highway signs blurred past, obscured by snow and exhaustion.
Then came the sound—a wet, bubbling prrrrrrrbt that vibrated against the leather seat, followed by an immediate wave of warm, eggy air. Mia didn’t even flinch, just stretched her arms behind her head like she’d accomplished something. "Oh my god," Maya gagged, rolling down her window halfway before the icy wind forced her to roll it back up. "You couldn’t have, like, warned me?"
Mia snorted, fanning the air dramatically with her mittens. "Please, you’re one to talk. Remember Thanksgiving sophomore year? You cleared out the whole damn living room after Mom’s green bean casserole." She mimed an explosion with her hands. "*That* was a war crime."
Maya couldn’t help it—she barked out a laugh, cheeks flushing. "Okay, fair, but at least I didn’t celebrate it like some kinda—" She cut herself off as Mia ripped another one, this one high-pitched and squeaky against the seat. The smell hit like a truck: spoiled milk and gym socks left in a locker all semester. Mia grinned, utterly unrepentant, and Maya finally cracked, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. "You’re disgusting," she wheezed, punching Mia’s shoulder.
Then came Maya’s revenge. She shifted slightly in her seat, lifting one hip off the leather—and let it rip. The sound was seismic, a deep, resonant BRAAAAAP that rattled the cupholders. Mia’s eyes widened comically as the stench rolled over them: sulfurous and thick, like rotten eggs boiled in vinegar. "Jesus Christ," Mia gasped, flapping her scarf at her face. "Did you die in there? What the hell are they feeding you in Boston, actual sewage?"
Maya smirked, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Organic chemistry lab fumes, mostly. You?"
They devolved into giggles again, the kind that made Mia clutch her stomach and Maya's shoulders shake so hard the car swerved gently in its lane. The warmth between them was almost palpable—thick as the stench still lingering in the car—but sweeter. It was the kind of laughter that came from years of shared history, from knowing exactly which buttons to push, from the unspoken understanding that no matter how disgusting they were, it would never be too disgusting. They were happy to be together again and ready to be home for the holidays.
Meanwhile, Derek was sprawled on the living room couch, scrolling through his phone with one hand while the other absentmindedly scratched his stomach under his too-small Santa pajama shirt. He was nineteen now, but still looked like the baby of the family—round cheeks, a mop of messy brown curls, and a perpetually sleepy expression. He’d been counting down the days until his sisters came home, though he’d never admit it out loud.
The house was too quiet. Mom and Dad had left hours ago for the Andersons’ annual Christmas party, armed with a tray of rum balls and strict instructions not to wake Derek up if they got home late. Their voices echoed in his head: "Don’t wait up, kiddo!" As if he wasn’t old enough to drink now—not that he cared. He wasn’t exactly drowning in invites to college parties himself.
Derek sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. Onscreen, Twitch chat scrolled by—*PogChamp* and LUL and KEKW—a blur of inside jokes from strangers who knew him better than his own family did. He’d hit 5k subs last month, mostly for his Mario Kart streams where he commentated in that deadpan monotone his viewers adored. "Blue shell inbound. My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined." The irony wasn’t lost on him: the kid who’d spent high school eating lunch alone in the band room now had a small army of internet friends who thought he was cool.
His thumb hovered over the screen. Should’ve been an easy swipe—YouTube, Twitch, maybe some shitposting on Twitter—but his pulse kicked up anyway. A folder labeled RECIPES sat innocently in the corner. He tapped it before he could chicken out.
The video loaded with a quiet pop, immediately filling the screen with two women in skin-tight leggings bending over a couch. Fake moans, exaggerated ass shakes—standard stuff. But Derek’s breath hitched when the first fart ripped through the audio, deep and wet. He’d seen this one seventeen times. Knew exactly when the brunette would giggle and say "Oops, someone ate too much chili!" before pressing her face into the other girl’s ass. His sweatpants tightened.
Headlights cut through the living room blinds—two bright slashes slicing through the dark. Derek fumbled his phone like it burned him, nearly dropping it as he jammed the screen against his thigh. The lock clicked. The video died mid-moan. Outside, tires crunched over fresh snow, followed by the unmistakable sound of Maya’s voice shouting "Fuck this weather!" and Mia cackling like a hyena.
He lurched off the couch, sweatpants tented embarrassingly, heart hammering. His socked feet slid across the hardwood as he scrambled for the door, nearly faceplanting into the coat rack before catching himself. The cold hit him like a slap when he threw open the front door, barefoot and pajama-clad, curls sticking up in every direction.
The headlights blinded him momentarily—two halogen suns illuminating the swirling snow like a snowglobe shaken hard. Then shapes emerged: Maya first, her tall frame hunched against the wind, black peacoat dusted white, glasses fogged over. She wrestled with a suitcase that had clearly eaten one too many airport carousels, wheels jammed with ice. Behind her, Mia practically vibrated with energy, a pink beanie pulled low over her ears, cheeks flushed red from cold and laughter. She clutched a half-eaten gas station burrito in one mittened hand—Derek could smell the stale onions from here—and a Slurpee cup in the other, sloshing blue liquid dangerously.
"Baby brother!" Mia shrieked, abandoning her snacks in the snowbank with a plop as she launched herself at him. Her hug was all elbows and wild, citrus-scented hair—she still used that same mango shampoo from high school—and her knee accidentally knocked into his thigh, dangerously close to his still-present problem. Derek barely had time to brace himself before Maya’s arms encircled them both, her wool scarf scratching his neck, her breath warm against his ear. "Missed you, dork," she murmured, squeezing tight enough to make his ribs creak.
The contact was overwhelming in the best way. Mia smelled like artificial blue raspberry and airplane peanuts, Maya like coffee and the faintest hint of old-library-book musk from her Boston dorm. Their bodies pressed close, warm despite the Wisconsin cold, and Derek suddenly remembered being ten years old again, sandwiched between them during thunderstorms when he was too scared to sleep alone. His face burned—partly from the cold, partly from how right it felt—but he hugged back fiercely, squeezing Maya’s waist and ruffling Mia’s hat-covered hair. "Missed you guys too," he mumbled into Maya’s shoulder, voice embarrassingly thick.
Then Mia pulled away, determined to get inside. "Ugh, it's freezing out here!" She exclaimed. Derek then moved to the trunk of their car to help with luggage. He joking remarked, "That's what two and a half years at UCLA does! You lose your resistance to cold!"
Mia rolled her eyes playfully as she tossed him a suitcase—the one with the broken wheel, of course—and Derek barely caught it before it smacked him in the chest. Maya, meanwhile, wrestled her own massive duffel bag out of the trunk, muttering something about "overpacking" and "why did I bring three winter coats."
The three of them stumbled through the door in a chaotic tangle of limbs and luggage, snow melting off their boots and forming puddles on the hardwood. Mia kicked the door shut behind them with her heel, already shrugging out of her coat and tossing it onto the couch like she’d never left. Derek watched the coat slide off and land half on the floor—some things never changed.
Mia tugged off her pink beanie with a dramatic flourish, releasing a cascade of caramel-blonde waves that tumbled down to her shoulders. Her hair was shorter than Maya’s, choppy and layered like she’d cut it herself in a dorm bathroom mirror—and knowing Mia, she probably had. It caught the warm light of the Christmas tree, glowing like honey, strands still slightly flattened from the hat. She wore a cropped UCLA sweatshirt that rode up when she stretched, revealing a sliver of toned stomach and the waistband of her high-waisted leggings—painted on, clinging to every curve of her thick thighs and round, jiggly ass that swayed when she bent to untie her boots. Her chest wasn’t huge, but perky and full enough to fill her sports bra, the fabric straining just slightly when she moved.
Maya, meanwhile, peeled off her wool scarf with one fluid motion, dark hair spilling down her back like a waterfall of melted chocolate—long enough to brush the waistband of her own leggings, which were identical to Mia’s in all but size. Where Mia’s were tight, Maya’s strained dangerously over her hips, the fabric stretched thin across an ass just as plush as her sister’s, but visibly heavier, the cheeks bouncing slightly when she shifted her weight. Her chest was the real difference though: her thick knit sweater, damp from melted snow, clung to a pair of full, heavy breasts that curved against the fabric, straining at the buttons with every breath. Not obscenely huge, but there—soft and pillowy where Mia’s were firm and compact, the kind of tits that made frat guys trip over their own feet in the dining hall.
They were barely inside for five seconds before Mia groaned dramatically, clutching her stomach. “Ugh, that gas station burrito is waging war in here,” she announced, bending forward slightly—a move that made her leggings stretch obscenely over her ass—before letting loose with a wet, fluttery prrrrrpt that echoed off the hardwood. The sound was almost melodic, bubbling out of her in little bursts, punctuated by her own giggles as she squeezed her knees together.
Maya snorted, adjusting her glasses with one hand while the other pressed against her own stomach. “Oh, you think that’s bad?” she taunted, hiking one hip up before releasing a deep, resonant BRAAAP that made the Christmas tree lights flicker. The stench hit immediately—spicy and fermented, like someone had microwaved old gym socks—and Mia screeched, swatting at the air. “Jesus, Maya! Did you hibernate on a pile of rotting cabbage?”
Derek trailed behind them, pulse thrumming in his throat as they climbed the stairs, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Mia, never one to be outdone, paused halfway up, bracing one hand on the banister while the other lifted her leg just enough to let out a series of rapid-fire squeaks—*pfft-pfft-pfft*—like a deflating balloon animal. The scent this time was doughy and sour, mixing with Maya’s lingering assault in a way that made Derek’s nostrils flare involuntarily.
At the landing, Maya retaliated with a slow, deliberate lean against the wall, her thick thighs pressing together as she issued a rolling, thunderous BWOOOOORP that vibrated through the floorboards. The sheer force of it sent Mia into hysterics, doubling over as the smell—an unholy blend of burnt rubber and spoiled chili—rolled over them like a fog. Derek’s fingers twitched at his sides, his face burning hotter than the fireplace downstairs.
Mia wiped tears from her eyes, gasping for breath between giggles. "Oh my god, that one had texture," she wheezed, clutching her ribs. Then, with zero hesitation, she arched her back and delivered her own masterpiece: a wet, stuttering PRRRRBBBT that clung to the air like syrup. The scent was immediate and cloying—overripe bananas left in a locker—and Maya actually gagged, fanning her face with both hands. "Fuck’s sake, Mia, did you ferment that in your intestines?"
Derek stood frozen at the base of the stairs, his socked toes curling into the hardwood. His sisters were too wrapped up in their battle to notice him breathing deeply through his nose, his pulse hammering as Mia’s tropical rot and Maya’s sulfuric blast mingled into something heady. He should’ve been disgusted. Should’ve wrinkled his nose like any normal person. But his sweatpants tightened further, fabric straining against his hips as the stench coiled around him—thick and warm and theirs.
Upstairs, Mia’s bedroom door slammed shut with a bang, followed by Maya’s softer click. Their muffled laughter seeped through the walls, punctuated by another wet pfffft from Mia’s room that made Derek’s throat go dry. He crept up the stairs like a thief, each creak of the wood sending his heart into his throat. The hallway air was heavy with it—lingering traces of Mia’s doughy aftermath clinging to the carpet, Maya’s acrid punch still hanging near the ceiling. Derek pressed his back against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the top step, knees drawn up. His phone buzzed in his pocket—probably Twitch notifications—but he ignored it, too focused on the soft thump of Mia kicking off her boots next door.
Outside, the wind howled like a live thing, rattling the old storm windows. What had been gentle snowfall when they arrived was now a full-blown blizzard—whiteout conditions swallowing the driveway whole, drifts piling against the porch railing. The power flickered once, twice, then steadied, but the groan of the house settling under the weight of the storm made Derek’s skin prickle. No way Mom and Dad were making it back tonight. Not with County Road B already buried under two feet and the plows nowhere in sight. The realization sent a jolt through him, hot and electric.
Downstairs, the microwave beeped—three high-pitched chirps that barely cut through Mia’s off-key rendition of Jingle Bell Rock as she rummaged through the freezer. “Found the pizza rolls!” she crowed, shaking the frosty bag like a maraca. Her socked feet slid across the kitchen tiles as she danced toward the oven, leggings stretching with every exaggerated hip shake.
Maya, meanwhile, leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, one eyebrow arched as Mia nearly upended the tray of pizza rolls onto the floor. “Remind me how you’re pre-med again?” she drawled, plucking the bag from Mia’s grasp with a smirk.
Mia stuck her tongue out, nudging Maya’s shoulder with her hip—a move that sent her sister’s heavy breasts jiggling against her sweater. “Because unlike some people, I can actually memorize the periodic table and operate a microwave,” she shot back.
The pizza rolls sizzled violently as Maya dumped them onto the tray, releasing a cloud of steam that smelled vaguely like regret and cheap cheese. Derek hovered near the fridge, watching them with the same rapt attention he’d once reserved for Christmas morning. Mia caught him staring and grinned, bending over to peer into the oven—her leggings pulling taut over her round ass as she wiggled exaggeratedly. “Derek, you’re starving, right?” she called over her shoulder, voice dripping with feigned innocence.
"Not really." He said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm just happy to have you both home."
Maya pushed her glasses up her nose with one finger, her dark eyes softening behind the lenses. "Aww, baby bro missed us," she teased, but there was warmth in it—the kind that made Derek's chest tighten. She reached out and ruffled his curls, her fingers lingering just a second too long. "We missed you too, dork."
Mia abandoned the oven mitt she'd been waving like a victory flag and slung an arm around Derek's shoulders, pressing her cheek against his. Her skin was cold from outside, but her breath was warm when she sighed dramatically. "God, it's so good to be home. UCLA's great, but no one appreciates me like you do."
Derek hugged them both tight. Too tight. All of a sudden, Maya let out a sudden BRAAAAAP just as Mias ass went*BRRRRMMMMMPPPPP*. Derek pulled away and laughed nervously. Maya and Mia exchanged glances and laughed. All three laughed, and Derek couldn't help but notice how the warmth in Maya’s eyes flickered with something else—something curious—when his laughter hitched just a little too high. Mia, oblivious as ever, bounced on her toes and clapped her hands together. “Okay, family tradition time! Hot chocolate, holiday rom-coms, but first, dinner. I'm starving!"
Dinner passed without further incidents—unless you counted Mia’s dramatic retelling of her microbiology final (“The professor literally wore a hazmat suit to grade our lab reports”), punctuated by absentminded little pffts every time she leaned forward to grab another bread roll. Maya, ever the stoic one, kept her composure even when Derek “accidentally” bumped her chair, sending a deep, resonant BWOOOORP vibrating through the wooden seat. The scent—hot and sour, like overproofed dough—made Mia gag into her napkin, but Derek’s fingers tightened around his fork until his knuckles whitened.
Somehow, they migrated to the couch, a tangle of limbs and fleece blankets in the glow of the Christmas tree. Mia claimed the middle spot, her legs sprawled across both siblings’ laps while she scrolled Netflix with one hand and shoveled popcorn into her mouth with the other. “*Elf* or Die Hard?” she mumbled around a mouthful, kernels tumbling down her UCLA sweatshirt.
The phone rang like a gunshot. Derek flinched so hard his elbow knocked over Mia’s hot chocolate—thankfully cold by now—as Dad’s caller ID lit up the screen. The three of them froze, a tableau of guilty stillness. Mia’s fingers hovered over the remote. Maya’s breath hitched, her chest rising under the thin fabric of her pajama top. Derek swallowed hard before swiping to answer. “Hey, Dad.”
Static crackled through the speaker, drowned out momentarily by the howl of wind. “—stuck at the Andersons’,” Dad’s voice came in bursts, fighting the storm. “Roads are gone. Sheriff’s got the whole county on lockdown.” A muffled curse, then Mom’s voice pitched high with worry: “Are the girls home safe? Did you eat?”
Derek’s throat clicked as he swallowed. Mia’s toes flexed against his thigh. Maya’s fingers dug into the couch cushions. “Yeah,” he managed, staring at the popcorn spilled across Mia’s leggings—the way the butter glistened where her thighs pressed together. “We’re good.”
Dad’s sigh crackled through the speaker. “Power might go out. Generator’s in the basement if—” The line cut to white noise, then snapped back. “—stay put. Don’t open the damn door for anyone, you hear? Plows won’t get through till morning.” A murmur of agreement from Mom, then the rustle of fabric as the phone changed hands. “Derek? Baby, you’re sure you ate?”
Mia rolled her eyes dramatically, mouthing ‘Oh my god’ as she flopped back against the cushions. The movement made her leggings stretch tight over her stomach—Derek caught the faint gurgle before she even lifted her hips slightly off the couch. A soft prrrrrp escaped, barely audible over the storm, but the scent hit instantly: buttery popcorn and stale beer from the airport. Maya’s nose wrinkled, but Derek inhaled sharply through his nostrils, his fingers twitching where they gripped his knees.
"Yes mom, I did! I'm losing you guys, gotta go."
Derek hung up abruptly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table where it skidded dangerously close to Maya's half-empty mug. The sudden silence in the room was punctuated only by Mia's stomach growling ominously—a low, bubbling gurgle that seemed to travel down her torso. She groaned dramatically, rubbing circles over her swollen belly. "Ugh, airport food was a mistake," she whined, arching her back slightly. The movement made her leggings stretch thin over her rounded stomach, the waistband digging in just enough to create a soft muffin top.
Maya snorted, reaching for the remote. "*Die Hard* it is," she announced decisively, thumbing the volume up as the opening credits rolled. The gunfire and explosions drowned out Mia's next complaint—though Derek caught the way her hips lifted subtly off the couch cushion, the faintest prrrrbt escaping as she settled back down. The scent hit him in waves: popcorn butter and something distinctly Mia—a yeasty, fermented warmth that clung to the back of his throat.
Then, without warning, Mia tensed—her whole body going rigid as she clutched her stomach with both hands. "Oh fuck," she gasped, eyes widening comically. Her knees squeezed together, thighs trembling under Derek's fingers, and then—
BRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPPHHHTTTTTT!
The fart tore out of Mia with the force of a freight train, rippling through her leggings in visible waves that made the fabric shudder. It started low—a guttural growl that vibrated the couch cushions—then surged into a wet, trumpeting crescendo that drowned out Bruce Willis’s gunfire. The sound seemed to echo, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling before settling thickly in the air between them.
Derek’s nostrils flared involuntarily as the first wave hit—sour and doughy, fermented airport pretzels mixed with the sharp tang of blue raspberry Slurpee. His throat clicked as he swallowed hard, pulse jackhammering when Mia groaned and lifted one cheek off the cushion, letting the last few bubbling prrts escape directly into the fabric. The stench intensified, blooming hot and yeasty like overproofed bread left in a locked car. Maya gagged dramatically, waving a hand in front of her face, but Derek leaned forward just enough to catch the full force—eyes fluttering shut as Mia’s tropical rot wrapped around him like a weighted blanket.
“Ohhh my god,” Mia sighed, stretching luxuriously as she rubbed her stomach. “That one’s been brewing since Denver.” She turned her head to grin at Maya, completely missing the way Derek’s sweatpants tented obscenely—but Maya didn’t. Her dark eyes flicked down, then back up to Derek’s flushed face with dawning realization. Something unreadable passed across her features before she schooled them into casual amusement. “Dude,” she drawled, nudging Mia’s thigh with her knee, “you ruined the couch.”
Mia twisted to look at the damp spot her last bubbly aftershock had left on the cushion, laughing unrepentantly—until her gaze landed on Derek. His nostrils flared visibly as he inhaled the lingering stench, his erection straining against the thin fabric of his sweats. Mia froze, her smile faltering for half a second before she tilted her head, caramel waves tumbling over her shoulder. “...Derek?” she murmured, voice suddenly soft in a way that made his stomach flip.
Then—impossibly—her lips curled into a slow, wicked grin. She shifted her weight deliberately, pressing her ass harder into the couch until another tiny prffft squeaked out. “Are you sniffing my gas?” she purred, dragging out the last word like it was something delicious. Derek’s mouth went dry. His pulse roared in his ears loud enough to drown out John McClane’s gunfire.
Before he could stammer a denial, Maya leaned forward—her cleavage spilling dangerously over the neckline of her pajama top—and let out a deep, vibrating BROOOORRRP directly into the cushion beside him. The sound rumbled through the couch like an earthquake, shaking Derek’s thighs where they pressed against Mia’s. The stench hit instantly—sulfuric and thick, like someone had cracked open a rotten egg inside a gym locker. Mia shrieked, clapping a hand over her nose, but Derek inhaled reflexively, his cock twitching against his zipper as Maya’s rancid heat coiled around them.
Maya’s eyes locked onto his reaction with predatory focus. Without breaking eye contact, she reached behind Derek’s back—her breast pressing flush against his arm—and plucked his phone from the couch crevice where it had slipped during the chaos. Her thumb brushed the screen idly, and Derek’s stomach dropped. Locked. But then—Mia, ever the wildcard, snatched the phone with a giggle and held it up to Derek’s face. The click of Face ID unlocking echoed like a gunshot in the sudden silence.
Maya’s smirk vanished when the screen lit up—paused mid-video on some blonde’s jiggling ass cheeks, arched obscenely as a visible green cloud erupted between them. The volume wasn’t muted. A wet, squelching PRRRRBBBBT blared through the speakers at full volume, the sound suspiciously similar to Mia’s earlier performance.
Derek’s stomach plummeted. Mia snatched the phone, her manicured thumb swiping left—revealing his hidden folder labeled Research. Rows upon rows of videos, all thumbnails of women mid-toot, their faces twisted in relief or devious glee. The silence stretched like taffy, broken only by Mia’s slow exhale. “Ohhhh,” she breathed, not disgusted—*fascinated*. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “You like this.”
“I—it’s not—” Derek’s voice cracked. Maya plucked the phone from Mia’s grasp, scrolling with clinical detachment until she paused on his most-watched video: Stepsister Fart Prank Gone Wild (18+). Her dark eyes flicked up, unreadable. Derek braced for mockery, for revulsion—but Maya just tilted her head. “How long?” she asked, voice softer than he’d ever heard it.
Mia didn’t wait for an answer. She scooched closer until her thigh pressed flush against his, warm even through their clothes. “Derek,” she murmured, fingers brushing his knee, “we literally just crop-dusted the entire living room.” Her grin was lopsided, teasing but kind. “You think we’re gonna judge?”
Derek opened his mouth—to apologize, to explain, something—but Maya beat him to it. Her hand settled on his shoulder, heavy and grounding. “Look,” she said, matter-of-fact, “if you’re into… that,” she gestured vaguely at the phone still displaying paused footage of a twerking fart clip, “it’s not like we’re the poster girls for normalcy.” Her thumb rubbed slow circles against his collarbone. “Remember when I clogged the toilet at Grandma’s 70th?”
Mia snorted, pressing closer until her breath ghosted over his cheek. “Or when I literally cleared out the UCLA chem lab?” She nipped playfully at his earlobe, sending a jolt down his spine. “Face it, baby bro. You’re stuck with us—gas and all.”
Derek’s pulse stuttered as Maya leaned in first—her lips soft and warm against his, tasting faintly of peppermint cocoa. The kiss lingered just long enough for him to feel the curve of her smirk before she pulled back, leaving his lips tingling. Mia didn’t give him time to process it; she cupped his face and kissed him harder, her tongue swiping boldly across his bottom lip. The scent of her—popcorn butter and that unmistakable yeasty musk—flooded his senses as she deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair. When she finally broke away, her eyes glittered with mischief. “See? Not so scary,” she whispered, thumb brushing the corner of his swollen mouth.
The weight lifted from Derek’s chest all at once, his nervous laughter bubbling up like one of Mia’s aftershocks. He crushed them both against him—Maya’s heavy breasts pressing into his ribs, Mia’s softer curves molding against his hip—burying his face in the juncture where their shoulders met. Their familiar scents enveloped him: Maya’s vanilla-orange shampoo, Mia’s coconut sunscreen from some forgotten summer, and beneath it all, the warm, musky truth of them. His sisters. His secret. His everything.
"What did I do to deserve you two?" he murmured into Mia’s collarbone, voice cracking as his fingers clenched tighter in Maya’s sweater. He expected teasing. Expected Maya to roll her eyes, Mia to cackle and poke his ribs—but Maya’s breath hitched first. Then Mia’s hands were cradling his face, her thumbs brushing away tears he hadn’t realized were falling.
"You exist," Maya said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world. Her palm settled over his racing heart through his thin t-shirt, warmth bleeding through the fabric. Mia made a soft noise—half laugh, half sob—and pressed her forehead to his temple. "We’re built to love you, dummy," she added, her breath puffing against his cheekbone. "Even if you’re a freak." The word landed gently between them, stripped of any sting by the way her lips quirked against his skin.
Then, because Mia couldn't leave tenderness untouched for long, she wiggled backward just enough to prop one knee on the couch cushion beside him. The movement made her leggings stretch obscenely over her rounded ass—fabric pulled taut enough that Derek could see the faint shadow where her cheeks parted. "So," she purred, twisting to glance over her shoulder, "you wanna smell it properly?"
Derek's "Oh god yes" came out as a choked gasp before he could stop it. Maya's sharp inhale beside him was the only warning before she hooked two fingers into the waistband of his sweats and yanked—the cool air hitting his exposed erection at the same moment Mia lifted her hips and let loose a wet, guttural BRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPHHTTTT. The sound vibrated through her leggings in visible ripples, the fabric ballooning slightly before the rancid warmth hit him full-force: fermented airport pretzels and spoiled egg salad, thick enough to coat his tongue when he instinctively gasped.
Mia giggled—a bright, breathless sound—as Derek's eyelids fluttered shut, his nostrils flaring wide to inhale deeply. "Like that, baby bro?" she cooed, rocking back slightly to press her ass flush against his face. The heat radiating through the spandex was intoxicating, the scent intensifying where her leggings clung damply to her curves. Maya's hand tightened in his hair, guiding him closer as she swung one leg over his lap, her pajama shorts riding up to expose the plush underside of her thigh. "My turn," she murmured, and Derek barely had time to register the warning before her ass cheeks clenched—once—and released a sharp, staccato PRRRPT-PRRPT-PRRRBBBT that stung his eyes with its acidic bite.
The stench bloomed between them like a living thing—Maya's signature sulfurous rot layered with Mia's yeasty warmth—as the sisters exchanged wicked grins over his head. Mia squeezed her thighs together deliberately, trapping Derek's face against her leggings as another bubbling BLOOOORRRP gurgled out, the vibrations traveling straight to his aching cock where Maya ground against him. "Mmm, someone's excited," Maya purred, her breath hitching when Derek bucked helplessly beneath her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she lifted slightly, letting a deep, shuddering BRRRAAAOOOORRRPPP ripple through her shorts—hot enough Derek could feel the dampness seeping through the fabric against his lips.
Mia gasped dramatically, clutching her stomach as another wave of audible gas surged forth—this time a rapid-fire PRRT-PFFT-PRRRBT that smelled suspiciously of the jalapeño poppers she'd inhaled earlier. "Oh fuck," she moaned, her hips canting forward until Derek's nose pressed flush against her leggings-clad mound. The fabric was slick with sweat and something muskier, the scent flooding his senses as Maya shifted to straddle his lap fully. Her pajama top gaped open, revealing the soft swell of her cleavage as she arched into another fart—this one a low, resonant BWOOORRRP that vibrated through his thighs where hers bracketed them.
Derek whimpered against Mia's crotch, his tongue darting out instinctively to taste the salt-and-yeast tang permeating the spandex. Mia shuddered, her fingers tightening in his hair as she ground down harder. "Jesus, he's licking it," she breathed, her voice gone thick. Maya's answering laugh was dark with promise as she peeled her shorts down just enough to expose the full curve of her ass—still faintly damp from her last eruption. "Better open wide, baby brother," she murmured, pressing back against his face until his lips parted obediently against her heated skin.
The first fart came without warning—a sharp, wet PRRRBBBT that bloomed directly against Derek's lips. The stench hit like a freight train: rotten eggs and overripe bananas, so thick he could feel it coating his tongue. Maya moaned shamelessly as she clenched again, this time forcing out a shuddering BRAAAAAP that vibrated against his chin, her ass cheeks quivering with the force of it. Derek's choked gasp only made her grind harder, her slick folds pressing against his nose as another bubbling PRFFFT escaped.
Mia watched with rapt attention, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she slowly peeled down her leggings—revealing inch after inch of creamy skin until the waistband caught just beneath the swell of her ass. "You wanna get the full experience, don't you?" she purred, arching her back deliberately. The fabric stretched taut over her cheeks for one tantalizing moment before she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and yanked—exposing her bare flesh with a soft snap. Derek's breath stuttered as Mia wiggled her hips, the plush globes jiggling temptingly before she suddenly pressed forward—
BRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPHHHHHTTTTTT!
The fart exploded directly against Derek's face, Mia's bare ass cheeks quivering as the full, unfiltered force of her gas blasted across his lips and nose. The sound was obscenely wet—a guttural, rippling eruption that made Maya groan beside him, her thighs tightening around his waist. The stench hit instantly: fermented banana mixed with something deeper, muskier, like week-old gym socks left in a locker. Derek inhaled reflexively, his tongue darting out to catch the lingering heat, and Mia shuddered above him, her fingers tangling in his hair.
"Oh fuck," she gasped, her hips jerking forward involuntarily. Derek didn't hesitate—he gripped the plush flesh of her ass with both hands, spreading her cheeks wider before sealing his mouth directly over her twitching hole. Mia's answering moan was half-surprise, half-relief as another bubbling PRRRRBBBT gurgled out, this one softer but no less potent. The taste flooded his mouth—salty and sour, with an earthy undertone that made his cock throb against Maya's thigh. Mia's legs trembled as she ground back against his face, her voice breathless. "Jesus—*Jesus*—you're eating it—"
Maya's fingernails dug into his shoulder as she watched, her own hips rolling in slow circles against his erection. "God, look at him," she murmured, her voice husky with arousal. Derek could feel her hot breath against his ear as she leaned closer, her breasts pressing into his back. "Like he was made for it." Mia whimpered in agreement, her fingers tightening in his hair as another, wetter fart escaped—this one a shuddering BLORRRP that Derek swallowed greedily, his tongue pressing insistently against her rim. The sensation made her thighs clamp around his head, her moan pitching higher as she arched her back.
Then Maya’s hands were at his waistband, her fingers slipping beneath the elastic with practiced ease. Derek gasped as she freed his aching cock, her warm palm wrapping around him in one smooth motion. The sudden contact made him buck into her grip, but Maya just chuckled darkly—her thumb swiping over the leaking tip before she straddled his thighs fully. "Shh," she murmured, lifting just enough to position herself directly over his shaft. "Gotta make sure you get the full treatment." Her smirk was wicked as she lowered herself slowly, letting the head of his cock brush against her damp folds—then higher, until it pressed flush against her asshole. Derek’s breath hitched, his hips jerking instinctively, but Maya held him down with one hand on his stomach. "Uh-uh," she teased, her other hand spreading her cheek wider. "First, you earn it."
The first fart came as a warning—a sharp PRFFFT that bloomed hot and sulfuric against his sensitive skin, making Derek cry out. Mia’s answering giggle vibrated through his skull where she still straddled his face, her thighs tightening around his ears as she ground down harder. "Listen to him," she cooed, her fingers scratching lightly at his scalp. "Like a little puppy." Then she arched her back, her hips lifting just enough to trap Derek’s nose deeper between her cheeks before unleashing a wet, gurgling BLOOOORRRP directly into his mouth. The taste exploded across his tongue—yeasty and thick, like week-old beer spilled on a bar floor—and Derek groaned, his cock twitching against Maya’s ass.
Maya grinned down at him, her dark eyes gleaming as she lifted slightly—just enough to let another rancid BRRRAAAAPPPP ripple across the head of his cock. The stench hit like a punch, acrid and sour, and Derek bucked instinctively, his hips straining upward. Maya’s laughter was low and throaty as she pressed a palm against his stomach, holding him down. "Oh no, baby brother," she purred, her thumb brushing the weeping tip of his cock. "You don’t get to move." Then she clenched—once, twice—and a shuddering PRRT-PRRBT escaped, the sound vibrating through his shaft as the heat of her gas enveloped him. Derek whimpered, his fingers digging into Mia’s thighs as the sensation burned through him, his cock throbbing under Maya’s relentless teasing.
Mia groaned above him, her hips grinding in slow circles against his tongue. "Fuck, Maya," she gasped, her fingers tightening in Derek’s hair. "Look at him—he’s dripping." Maya hummed in agreement, her fingers trailing down his length before giving a sharp twist that made Derek cry out—the sound muffled by Mia’s ass. "Mmm, I think he likes it," Maya murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. Then, without warning, she lifted fully off his cock, swinging one leg over his chest to straddle his face instead. Derek barely had time to register the shift before Maya’s bare ass pressed against his lips, her thighs bracketing his head as she leaned forward—her breasts brushing against his stomach. "Your turn, Mia," she breathed, her fingers trailing down Derek’s spit-slick cock. "Make him beg."
Mia didn’t need telling twice. She slithered down Derek’s body with a predator’s grace, her tongue dragging a wet stripe up his shaft before she paused—her lips hovering just above the head. Derek’s hips jerked instinctively, but Mia just chuckled, her breath hot against his skin. "Uh-uh," she purred, pressing one hand firmly against his stomach. "You watch." Then she arched her back, her ass lifting until it hovered directly over his cock—her leggings still stretched taut over her cheeks. Derek’s breath hitched as Mia wiggled slightly, the fabric straining against her flesh—then PRRRRBBBBT! A wet, bubbling fart erupted right against his shaft, the sound vibrating through the spandex as the heat seeped through. The stench hit instantly—fermented fruit and something rancid—and Derek groaned, his cock twitching against Mia’s bare ass.
Above him, Maya ground down harder, her thighs squeezing his head as she leaned forward. "You like that, don’t you?" she murmured, her voice dark with amusement. Then she clenched—once—and a sharp PRFFFT escaped directly into Derek’s open mouth. The taste was acidic, burning his tongue like spoiled wine, and he gagged instinctively—only for Maya to press down harder, her ass sealing over his lips. "Swallow," she commanded, her voice brooking no argument. Derek obeyed, his throat working as he forced down the foul air, his eyes watering. Maya rewarded him with another—this one a deep, resonant BRRRAAAAPPPP that vibrated against his tongue, the stench flooding his sinuses with every shuddering pulse.
Below him, Mia grinned wickedly as she scooted forward on her knees, her bare ass hovering just inches above Derek’s throbbing cock. "My turn," she purred, her fingers trailing teasingly down his length. Derek bucked instinctively, but Mia just chuckled—her nails digging lightly into his thigh. Then she arched her back, her cheeks parting slightly—and PRRRRBBBBT! A wet, bubbling fart erupted right against the head of his cock, the heat searing through him like a brand. Derek cried out, his hips jerking upward, but Mia pressed down harder—smothering him in her rancid warmth as another BLOOOORRP gurgled out, this one longer, wetter. The stench was overpowering—rotting fruit and sour milk—and Derek whimpered, his cock twitching helplessly against her slick folds.
Above him, Maya groaned—her thighs tightening around his head as she ground down harder. "Fuck, Mia," she gasped, her fingers tangling in Derek’s hair. "You’re gonna make him come." Mia giggled—a breathless, giddy sound—as she rocked forward slightly, her ass cheeks pressing flush against Derek’s shaft. "Good," she murmured, her voice thick with arousal. Then she clenched—once—and a sharp PRFFFT escaped, the vibration traveling straight to Derek’s core. He gasped, his back arching off the couch—but before he could tip over the edge, Maya yanked him backward by the hair, her other hand pressing firmly against his chest. "Uh-uh," she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. "Not yet."
Derek whimpered—his cock throbbing painfully between Mia’s thighs—but Maya just grinned, her fingers tightening in his hair as she leaned forward. "Pick him up," she murmured to Mia, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. Mia didn’t hesitate—she swung one leg over Derek’s chest, her thighs bracketing his shoulders as she hauled him upright. Derek gasped as she wrapped her arms around his waist, her breasts pressing into his back as Maya stood gracefully—her bare thighs brushing against his flushed skin. "Time for a reward," Maya breathed, her fingers trailing possessively down Derek’s chest as she turned toward the stairs.
Derek’s knees wobbled as Mia half-dragged him forward—his cock still slick with her sweat and musk—but Maya caught his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Watch your step," she teased, her thumb brushing his swollen lip. Then she pulled—leading him up the creaky staircase with Mia pressed close behind, her breath hot against his neck. The scent of them clung to him—Maya’s sulfurous heat mingling with Mia’s yeasty warmth—and Derek shuddered, his hips jerking instinctively. Mia chuckled—the sound vibrating against his spine—as her hands slid lower, cupping his ass with deliberate possessiveness. "Oh, he’s excited," she purred, her nails digging in just enough to make him gasp.
At the top of the stairs, Maya paused—her silhouette haloed by the flickering Christmas lights from her bedroom doorway. She turned slowly, her pajama top gaping open to reveal the flushed swell of her breasts, and smiled—the kind of smile that made Derek’s pulse stutter. "You’ve been very good," she murmured, stepping backward into the dim glow. The room smelled like her—vanilla and something darker, muskier—and Derek inhaled instinctively, his cock twitching as Mia’s fingers traced his hipbones. "But now," Maya continued, sinking onto the edge of her bed with deliberate grace, "you get up here."
Mia shoved him forward with a giggle—her palms hot against his lower back—and Derek stumbled, his knees hitting the mattress hard enough to make the bedframe creak. Maya caught his wrists before he could steady himself, her thumbs pressing against his racing pulse as she guided him down onto the sheets. "Let’s see you," she breathed, her gaze flicking downward as Mia’s hands slid around his waist—her fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats. The fabric pooled at his thighs with one sharp yank, and Derek gasped as the cold air hit his exposed flesh—his cock springing free, already slick at the tip and aching.
Mia’s sharp inhale made his stomach flip. "*Christ*," she choked out, her nails digging into his hips as she stared. "That’s—*fuck*—that’s not fair." Maya’s laugh was breathless beside him, her fingers trailing up the length of his shaft—her touch feather-light but enough to make Derek shudder. "No wonder he hid this," she murmured, her thumb smearing the bead of precum gathering at his slit. "Who could handle it?" Mia groaned in agreement, her breath hot against his shoulder as she leaned closer—her tongue darting out to trace the vein pulsing beneath his skin. "Biggest I’ve ever seen," she admitted, the words vibrating against him as her teeth grazed his hipbone.
Maya’s hands slid up her own torso next, fingers hooking under the hem of her pajama top with deliberate slowness. The fabric inched upward—revealing the soft swell of her stomach, the dip of her waist—before she yanked it over her head in one smooth motion. Her breasts bounced free, nipples already peaked and flushed, and Derek’s mouth went dry. Mia didn’t hesitate—she gripped the neckline of her own shirt and twisted, the thin material straining before tearing clean down the middle with a sharp rrrip. The scraps of fabric fluttered to the floor, leaving her bare except for the leggings still tangled around her thighs—her chest heaving as she arched into the space between them. "Better?" she purred, her smirk wicked as Maya’s fingers skimmed her ribs.
"Much," Maya breathed, her palm skating up Mia’s side to cup her breast—thumb brushing the stiff peak. Mia shuddered, her head tipping back as Maya’s other hand trailed lower—nails scraping lightly over Mia’s hipbone before hooking into the waistband of her leggings. The fabric peeled down torturously slow—revealing the damp thatch of curls beneath—until Mia kicked them off impatiently, her bare feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. Derek’s cock twitched violently at the sight—Mia’s thighs glistening with sweat, her folds already swollen and slick—but Maya tsked, her fingers tightening around his shaft in warning. "Eyes here," she murmured, guiding his gaze back to her own naked form as she straddled his lap fully.
Maya’s thighs bracketed his hips—her wet heat pressing flush against his throbbing cock—but she held herself just out of reach, her smirk deepening as Derek’s hips jerked fruitlessly. "One of us," she murmured, grinding down just enough to smear his precum against her slit, "is gonna sit on this pretty face of yours." Her fingers tangled in his hair—*yanking*—forcing his head back against the pillows. "*Fart*," she continued, her voice dropping lower as Mia crawled onto the bed beside them—her knees sinking into the mattress with deliberate slowness. "And the other," Maya breathed, rolling her hips teasingly, "is gonna ride this cock until you fuck the farts out of that one and cum inside them." Mia’s giggle was breathless behind him—her fingers tracing the tense line of Derek’s shoulders—as Maya leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear. "Then we switch."
Derek barely had time to process the words before Mia pounced—her thighs clamping around his head as she straddled his face in one fluid motion. The sudden weight forced the air from his lungs, replaced instantly by the heady musk of her bare skin—her swollen folds pressing directly against his mouth. Maya didn’t hesitate—she sank down onto his cock with a gasp, her tight heat enveloping him inch by inch until their hips met with a wet slap. Derek groaned against Mia’s cunt—his tongue darting out instinctively—only for her to clench above him—a sharp PRRRBBT! vibrating against his lips as rancid heat flooded his nose. The stench hit like a punch—rotting cheese and sour milk—but Derek inhaled greedily, his cock twitching inside Maya as Mia’s ass wiggled against his chin.
Maya’s hips rolled experimentally—her inner walls fluttering around him—before she shuddered, a deep BRRRAAAAPPPP! erupting from her clenched cheeks. The fart was humid—a thick, sulfurous cloud that clung to Derek’s thighs—and Maya moaned, her nails digging into his chest as she ground down harder. "Fuck—*fuck*—his cock—" she panted, her hips stuttering as another PRFFFT! escaped—this one sharper, wetter. Mia giggled breathlessly above him—her fingers tangling in his hair—before arching her back deliberately. PRRRRBBBBT! The next fart was a growler—a bubbling, guttural eruption that Derek felt as much as heard—and Maya squealed, her thighs clamping around his hips as she came unexpectedly—her walls pulsing around him in spasming waves.
Derek’s vision whited out—his cock throbbing violently inside her—and Maya gasped, her back arching off the bed as another BLORRRP! forced its way out. This one was different—longer, deeper, like a stormfront breaking—and Derek’s hips jerked instinctively, his orgasm crashing over him with brutal intensity. Hot cum flooded Maya’s trembling cunt—each pulse coaxing another wet PRRRRT! from her clenching ass—until she screamed, her thighs quivering as the biggest fart of her life detonated: a shuddering BRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPHHHHHTTTTTT! that seemed to go on forever. The stench was unholy—fermented eggs and rancid onions—but Derek came harder, his cock twitching inside her as Mia groaned above him—her own hips grinding against his tongue.
Then Mia yanked his hair—hard—forcing his head back against the pillows. "*My* turn," she panted, her thighs slick with sweat as she crawled down Derek's body. Maya moved up towards his face, ready to take her position, her asshole still fluttering from her explosive orgasm. But Mia stopped her with a hand on Maya's hip—her grin feral. "*Slow*," she ordered. Maya arched an eyebrow, but obeyed, lowering herself onto Derek's face with torturous slowness. The first contact of her swollen folds against his lips drew a desperate moan from Derek, his tongue darting out instinctively. Maya shuddered, her thighs tensing—before she clenched—and a thick, bubbling BRRRRRRRRRRP erupted directly into his open mouth. The taste was fermented—like spoiled yogurt left in the sun—and Derek gagged, his throat convulsing as Maya's aftershock gas flooded his airway.
Mia didn't let him recover—she slammed down onto his cock in one brutal motion, her wet heat swallowing him whole. Her hips rolled immediately—her rhythm rough, hungry—as she squeezed him tighter with every downward thrust. "*Fuck* yes," she gasped, her fingers digging into Maya's ass for balance—her nails leaving crescent marks in the soft flesh. Maya groaned above Derek's face, shifting her weight—and another fart ripped loose: a sharp PRFFFT that stung his tongue with its sour heat. Mia laughed—a breathless, wild sound—as she pistoned harder—her own stomach gurgling ominously. "*Gonna*—" she panted—then PRRRRRRRRBBBBTTTT!—her cheeks flexing against Derek's thighs as she rode him—her fart long, wet, vibrating through her body and into his cock. The stench hit instantly—rotten eggs and spoiled milk—but Derek bucked beneath her, his orgasm building again as Maya ground her ass into his mouth—forcing him to inhale her musk between each gassy eruption.
When they finally collapsed—sweat-slick and trembling—they barely made it under the covers before exhaustion claimed them. Maya's bed was warm, the sheets tangled and smelling of sex and sulfur, but none of them cared. Derek lay sandwiched between them—Mia curled against his back, her breath hot on his neck—while Maya sprawled half on top of him, her thigh hooked possessively over his waist. For a long moment, they just breathed, their bodies still thrumming from the aftershocks. Then Maya tilted her head—her lips brushing Derek's in a slow, lingering kiss—the taste of her musk and Mia's sweat mingling between them. Mia hummed drowsily, her fingers trailing down Derek's chest—before she leaned in, her mouth meeting his with equal softness. This kiss was different—gentler, almost sweet—her tongue tracing his bottom lip before she pulled back—her eyes heavy-lidded. "*Merry* Christmas," she murmured—her voice rough but warm—as she nuzzled into his shoulder. Maya chuckled—her hand sliding lazily down Derek's stomach—her fingertips tracing the sticky mess between his thighs. "*Very* merry," she agreed—her own kiss landing just as softly—before she tucked her head under his chin—her breath evening out against his collarbone.
The two sisters then shared a kiss of their own before passing out. As they all drifted off to sleep, Derek simply muttered to himself "Best Christmas ever."