Published: November 20th 2024, 5:30:28 pm
POV:
You’ve been dating this girl for a few months and everything about her is perfect. She’s kind, funny, and has an appetite bigger than her heart. You invited her to a Thanksgiving dinner with your family and she eagerly accepted.
The relationship has been great so far and you feel like you can be open and honest with her about everything (except the fact that you’re secretly a feeder with a huge burp kink and don’t know how to tell her.) How will this secret affect your night out?
Thanksgiving Day
Her: “Thanks for inviting me to dinner with your family, I’m so excited to meet them!” She says, while getting ready in front of the mirror. “I know your last girlfriend was only 150 pounds, you sure they won’t judge me for being twice that size?”
You: “Of course not. The only thing that they care about is that you have an appetite and your table manners.”
Her: Table manners? Such as?
You: The usual. No elbows on the table, no loud smacking while you chew and…. you know the last one.
Her: *sighs* “Of course, no burping. How could I forget?” She mutters while rolling her eyes.
You come from a family that is hell bent on having good manners, which is ironic considering the fact that you get off on quite the opposite. It’s forced you to pretend like you hate gas and sloppy mannerisms, even to a point where you have to *scold* your partner when she lets out the smallest burp.
You: Yes, I’m sorry but you know how my family is. Just try your best to contain your gas, okay?
Her: “Anything - ugh - for you.” She lets out, while struggling to button the final button on her tight white button up.
“You look great” you say with a smile. Oh, how you wish you both could just skip dinner and become her meal instead.
At The Family Dinner
*knocks on the front door*
“Hello?” Your mother answers the door, with a huge grin on her face. “You must be the girlfriend, ______ has told me SO much about you.” She beams. Her smile slowly starts to fade as her eyes wander down to your girlfriend’s belly.
“Mom. Stop.” You hiss.
“You both come in, dinner’s already on the table. There should be enough food for everyone. If your guest needs more food, I’m sure we could order a pizza or two for her.” Your mom says in a snarky tone .
You both sit down at the dinner table and you try not to focus on the creaking noise that escapes from the chair that your partner sat in. Oh, how you wish that were you.
“What would you like to drink, dear?” Your mother asks your partner. “We have water and tea.”
“Do you have any soda?” She asks.
“Yes, in the fridge. Dear, would you mind grabbing her a drink or two?” Your mother asks you.
You get up and go to the fridge. You open it and see Coke and Diet Pepsi. Selfishly, you take 1 bottle from a 6 pack of Diet Pepsi and bring it to the table. Being a feeder, one would assume that you’d want your partner to drink more calories. However, you know that she’ll already be eating plenty and you know that diet soda makes her burp 10x as much as regular soda does.
“Diet…. Good choice” your mother says, smirking.
Everyone begins to eat and the room fills with sounds of old stories being told and retold, laughter and silverware clanking on the dishes. However, no matter how loud and boisterous everyone in the room is, the only person you can focus on is your partner, who’s already on their fourth plate.
“How long have you known each other?” Your mother asks.
You don’t respond, because you were busy sneaking glances at your partner sho’s been shoveling forkfuls of mashed potatoes and Mac and cheese into her mouth like it’s her day job. You still don’t think you’ve seen her stop to breathe since the first bite.
She wipes her mouth and bread roll crumbs roll down your partner’s button up, which was starting to separate at the buttons, revealing her soft, doughy belly.
“Hello?” She speaks again.
“Sorry, I was distracted.” You say, only half listening.
You hear the slightest rumble coming from your partner’s direction and you try your hardest not to look. Out of the corner of your eye you see your partner start to hold her belly and massage it in the smallest of movement, most likely to not draw attention. The poor thing has a belly ache.
Little does she know, you’ve been watching her the whole time. She glances over at you, and you look away, blushing. Her hand moves up from her belly and quickly covers her mouth. She’s trying her best to stifle the burp that you know will inevitably erupt from her cute mouth. She starts to sweat a little and looks noticeably nervous. You start to feel bad for her as she’s really trying her best to not belch.
She somehow manages to swallow the air back down, even though you really wish she hadn’t. You give her a nod of approval, even though you know deep inside you were praying for her to let out an earthquake shattering burp in front of you. She begins to eat again and you hear a familiar rumble. You look over to her and she looks panicked this time. You don’t think she’ll be able to hold this one in. Oh, God you hope she can’t hold it in again. She interrupts your thinking by calling your name, quietly. She uses her index finger to beckon you, and points to her lips. She wants a kiss? Right now in front of your family?
You: What are you d-
Before you get a chance to process what’s happening, she interrupts your question. She leans into you while pulling you closer by your shirt and kisses you, hard. But not only does she kiss you, she lets out the loudest, warmest, and stinkiest belch into your mouth. Her mouth is suctioned to yours, making it impossible for any air to escape. You feel a rush of air puff out your cheeks as her warm gas gets transferred from her mouth to yours. In seconds, you’re able to taste every bit of food that she consumed in the past 20 minutes, and you’re in heaven.
As the burp concludes, you can hear the sound of the forced air slowly escaping from your lips as she begins to take her mouth away from yours.
You stare at her in longingly (disguised as disgust) and she looks at you, worryingly. “I’m sorry, I just wanted a kiss.” She says sheepishly. You look around and your family is somehow still consumed in conversation.
“Hey, let me give you a quick tour of the place. I’ll show you where the bathroom is first.” you say, and you grab her hand.
You’re in such a rush that you completely disregard your mother, who asked you thrice where you both were heading. You drag your partner upstairs and down the hall and into a bedroom upstairs, locking the door behind you.
To be continued…