Hoffy and I were having the best time at our sleepover, laughing and joking around like we always do. She grabbed a can of Sprite with that trademark mischievous grin of hers and looked at me with a daring glint in her eye. "Watch this," she said, before tipping the can back and chugging the whole thing without a pause.
I could hear the fizzing bubbles as the Sprite rushed down her throat. Her stomach started to bloat just a bit, the carbonation working its magic. When she finally finished, she lowered the empty can with a triumphant look, her belly visibly rounder from all the gas.
Then it happened—she let out this massive, deep burp that seemed to come from the depths of her being. It started off low, like a rumble, then grew louder and louder, echoing through the room. It was the kind of burp that makes you both impressed and a little bit shocked.
Hoffy just grinned at me, completely unbothered. "That felt good," she said, patting her bloated stomach with satisfaction.
I couldn't help but burst out laughing, the sound of her burp still ringing in my ears. "Wow, that was intense!" I said, shaking my head in disbelief. But I couldn't stop smiling, because that was just so Hoffy—always full of surprises, even when it came to something as silly as a burp.
Hoffy and I were having an incredible time at our sleepover, our laughter filling the room like music. After she chugged that can of Sprite and let out that massive burp, I couldn't help but feel a little flutter in my chest. She looked so confident, so unapologetically herself, and it made my heart race in a way I couldn't quite explain.
As the night wore on, we decided to crawl into the same sleeping bag. It wasn't the first time we'd shared one, but tonight felt different—closer, somehow. We snuggled up, our bodies pressed together in the tight space. Hoffy's stomach was still a little bloated from the Sprite, and I could hear it gurgling softly. She shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable, and I couldn't resist placing my hand on her belly, feeling the warmth beneath her skin.
"Your stomach's still all bubbly," I teased, rubbing gentle circles over her abdomen. Hoffy grinned at me, that playful spark still in her eyes.
"Yeah, it's all your fault for daring me to chug that Sprite," she shot back, though there was no real annoyance in her voice—just that familiar sarcasm that made me smile.
I started to massage her belly a little more firmly, my fingers working over her soft skin in slow, soothing motions. Hoffy closed her eyes and sighed, leaning into my touch. As I pressed down just a bit, another burp escaped her lips—this one softer, almost shy, as if it were trying to sneak out unnoticed. She burped with her mouth closed, the sound muffled but still noticeable, and I couldn't help but giggle.
"Better out than in," I said, my voice low, almost tender.
"Is that what they say?" she replied with a smirk, her eyes opening to meet mine. She adjusted herself, leaning a little closer, and then let out another burp, this time with her fist loosely in front of her mouth, like she was trying to be polite about it. But the burp still echoed between us, making me laugh.
We kept talking softly, the room dim and intimate. I kept rubbing her belly, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. After a while, I could tell another burp was building up—her expression changed slightly, her lips pressing together as she tried to hold it back. I gave her belly a gentle push, encouraging her.
"Just let it out," I whispered, leaning in closer. Hoffy didn't need much convincing. She tilted her head to the side, burping out the corner of her mouth. This one was long and low, a bit deeper than the others, and I could feel the rumble of it under my hand.
I laughed, but before I could say anything, she shifted again, and suddenly, she burped right in my face. It was unexpected, and for a moment, I was caught off guard by the warm gust of air, tinged with the sweet smell of Sprite.
Hoffy's eyes widened in mock horror, and then we both burst out laughing, the sound filling the small space around us. I couldn't even pretend to be mad—there was something oddly intimate about it, like we'd crossed some invisible line that brought us even closer together.
I leaned forward, resting my forehead against hers, my hand still on her belly. "You're impossible," I murmured, but there was no real heat behind the words.
"You love it," she shot back, her voice teasing, but her eyes softening as they met mine.
"Yeah," I admitted, my heart pounding a little faster. "I really do."
