Gasses you out

Frankie was usually one to be slow and careful after his initial charge, but he decided to cut to the chase here and commence with cutting the cheese. Getting on your chest, pinning your frail hands down, he let out a ripe, palpable four-second raunchy and brassy fart as the audience stared intensely at the fight.

PRRRRBRRAAAAAABRRRRRRR...

Your eyes begin to water up, the faint stench of regurgitated pasta and heavy starches leaking out of Frankie's ass were too much to bear.

"It was over before it started, chump," Frankie said, looking over you with a shit-eating grin on his face while he rubbed more of his musky crotch musk onto your chest, making you his personal scent-bitch.

"No matter how many showers you take, runt, you'll never get the scent of a REAL man off of ya." He said, cackling, and letting out a couple more silent-but-deadly farts that continued to terrorize your nose. The fact you were coated in musk and made to be a pathetic jobber was humiliated, and the worst part was your smaller yet erect dick touching his thick, Italian chode, showing off your inferior manliness.