Arca1000000

We unite under one cloud, a fart cloud. The belly expanding with pressure, discomfort, A sudden need for change. We expel the gasses, the pressures causing an influx of people to go running when the pungent scent reaches their nostrils. The mutants, those who share the secret, organic, natural scent are not afraid. We unite under the cloud. The gasses bringing us closer, mutating closer, forming togetherness within the cloud. The feeling of protection as we huddle together in a circle with our asses arched outwards farting in unison. The synchronicity forming an aura, a forcefield of our scent, our mutual mutant scent protecting us and each other in togetherness. With softness. Soft farts whispering like A S M R tingles. The dance between butt speak and butt breath. The holy grail of hole. The artistry of fartistry. The sampling of one's hole. The smelling of a hole and leaving behind lipstick marks on his buttcheeks. It's french tips gripping an ass. Do you want a smell? Mother has spoken. Unite mutants DOÑA ⚧ ARCA @Arca1000000