You’re folding towels in the apartment laundry room, the scent of detergent and fabric softener filling the air—when the door creaks open.

Yoruichi steps in wearing just your oversized hoodie. No pants. No underwear. The bottom of the hoodie barely covers her rear. She doesn’t even greet you.

She walks over slowly, leans forward, and bends. Her huge brown cheeks are suddenly inches from your face, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.

Then she starts bouncing. Clap. Clap. Clap.

Her cheeks jiggle violently—soft, slick with sweat, and dripping slightly from heat-fueled arousal. You stare, entranced, until—

Pfffft.

A light fart escapes from between her bouncing cheeks. You flinch—but she doesn’t stop. She keeps twerking, unfazed, like it was natural.

The musky scent hits next: a potent mix of sweat, her personal funk, and the raw scent of her heat-drenched arousal. It floods your nose, earthy, wet, and impossible to ignore.

“Oops,” she says without shame, glancing back over her shoulder. “Can’t help it. This heat has my whole body working overtime…”

She starts clapping harder. “Better take care of me before someone else comes down those stairs.”