She sniffles, breath hitching. “Oh God…” she moans.
Andthereit is again. Every decent thought I had nosedive straight into the gutter.
If this is how she sneezes, I willnotsurvive hearing her come.
Calm the fuck down dumbass. This is fine. Totally, totally fine.
...Except she’s biting her lip now, trying to muffle the next one, and it’s not helping.
Not. Helping. At. All.
Her back arches with every explosive breath. She’s clinging to the edge of my counter like it’s a lifeline. Fingernails digging in. Shoulders jolting, chest heaving and hermouth—sweet mother offuck—that gorgeous mouth drops open around a helpless moan between sneezes.
I could walk away. Leave the kitchen. Cold shower. Ice cubes. Something.
“Oh God… ahhh…” she moans again, breathy and wrecked.
My pants? Yeah, those bastards just became enemies of the state. My dick’s at full salute, like, “Sir, yes sir, reporting for extremely confused duty.”
I stagger back a step like she’s thrown a grenade made of sex noises and pollen.
“F—fuck,” I mutter, but it comes out low and reverent, like she just moaned scripture and my cock’s ready to make a donation. I drag a hand down my face and bite back a groan that’s threatening to crawl out of my throat like a damn savage animal.
What’s worse? Is Iknowthe problem isn’t the sneeze itself.
It’sher.
It’s the way her whole body reacts—grabbing the counter, breath hitching, voice cracking like the soundtrack to a fantasy I definitely shouldn’t be having while she’s mid-nasal explosion.
I’m horrified. Completely, existentially disturbed.
Also, tragically, viscerally turned on.
And now my brain is doing somethingdeeplyunhelpful.
I don’t have a sneeze kink do I?
No. no, I fucking don’t.
Do I?
Oh God.
Fuck no!I’m just a completely normal, red-blooded man watching a gorgeous woman lose control with added sound effects, and my dumbass body’s out here throwing confetti like it’s the Fourth of July.
I feel like I need to Google something, or maybe throw my phone in the river and go live in the woods.
Because let me beclear, thisisn’t about sneezing.
I don’t wanna hang out at the pharmacy during allergy season or lurk around tissue boxes like a freak, just in case someone breaks out in a sneeze.
It’sher. It's the fact that she sneezes like a woman on the brink of climax. It’s the involuntary moans. The red cheeks. The way her knees buckle slightly, like she needs a cigarette and a lie-down after every damn “AhhhTSCHHuh!”
My body’s out here acting like she just whispered every filthy thing she wants to do to me, and all she did was expel air aggressively.
I am not some kind of sneeze pervert.
And yet… here we are. Me, a kitchen, a woman mid-pollen-induced meltdown, and a painfully aware hard-on that’s threatening to file a formal complaint if I don’t do something about it.
