A hundred spunking wangers, a thousand hairy balls. A million spermy servings, the Lord God made them all.
She stepped out onto the wide, long balcony, and felt the cold air beginning to be infused by the rays of the rising sun. Her skin tingled from the chill, and a sense of being vividly alive rushed from her ankles up through her spine and to her crown. Her arms rose, her shiver forgotten as the sun’s glorious radiance drew her into a wide and natural pose of gratitude. She smiled as she felt its warmth begin to envelope her. And she h- FLARRRPPP!! A huge, ripsnorting fart rang out from the balcony directly below, reminding her that though she was much richer these days, she was still poor enough to have to share these resorts with bumptious nouveau riche types. It was progress, but not progress enough. She resolved to keep working hard so as to be able to afford proper exclusivity. She thought she heard the guy (or even woman) on the balcony below sniffing up their own grunt. Yep, she thought. Still some work to do.
“Well, well. What’s this?” she enquired with a grin. That was just a rhetorical flourish, though. She knew the answer (a creamy load).
“You’ve dropped your gut, haven’t you?” she demanded. He shook his head and grinned. He hadn’t so much dropped his gut as flung it down, fully evacuating every forsaken corner of his grossly inefficient intestines and exposing to the world the foulness that their waste-smeared folds had for so long concealed.