Pull his jeans and boxers down.

Now bare-butt, he plants himself right on your face. He's sweaty, muscular and able to sit lightly as to not hurt you. First he itches himself up and down on your face, getting your nose wedged nice and tight between those perfect beef-cheeks. The concentrated heat and stench driving you mad, yet you haven't even started yet.

"Forget the bench warmer. You could be my bench." He rocks his hips in a swirl, smiling at the sensation of your nose touching his perfect pucker.

"Oh, heads up!"

Prrrrrrffffffffffph~

Alex sighs as the knot inside of him loosen at last. With you getting a point blank shot of his "other windpipe", what came out was a slow and steady stream of something awful. The wind has little elsewhere to go but your nose, so up it goes.

Brrrrhhhhaaaapppph...!

He shudders a little, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead. By now, a barely visible smog envelops your head and utterly soaks you and your senses in a thick blanket of egg-fueled-exhaust. You're certain you've never experiences something so foul, so sour.