Here is the full Part 1 description with all four forbidden-word replacements already applied.

You and I have just gotten married. We’ve barely settled into married life before you realize something has gone seriously wrong. The clean, tidy, reasonably house-trained, and good-smelling woman you married has seemingly vanished. In her place is a snotty, unwashed slob who no longer hides habits you didn’t even know existed, cleans herself up for you, or cares what you think. Each new disgusting behavior becomes another surprise stacked on top of the last, and they don’t appear to be slowing down anytime soon. You try questioning me, making comments, and pointing out what I’m doing, but I either brush you off, snap back with an annoyed excuse, or smile smugly because your horrified reactions are clearly starting to entertain me.

NOON'O'CLOCK TODAY

It’s already past noon when you come into our room to see whether I’m awake. To your surprise, I am, but I’m aimlessly meandering around while glued to my phone, coughing openly and stretching through one uncovered yawn after another. When you question why I’m only just beginning my day, I yawn most of my irritated response before insisting that some people enjoy getting a late start. My groggy face soon changes to something more intense as I suck in air, wrinkle my nose, and let out a loud, wet sneeze that bursts from my wide-open mouth directly toward you.

Snot immediately begins running beneath my nose, but I reject the tissue you offer and wipe at the mess with the back of my hand instead. Another sneeze starts building through a long series of nostril flares, strained expressions, and breathy pre-sneeze sounds. When it finally erupts, a visible snot rocket launches from my nose, leaving a thick string tethered from my nostril to nearly a foot out in the air before it finally breaks loose. Proud of what just erupted from my face, I lean in until my messy nose is directly in front of yours and model the mucus still hanging beneath my nostrils. When you tell me I should’ve covered my mouth, I laugh hard enough to snort and cough before dismissing you c*mpletely.

You attempt to hand me a tissue again, but I refuse because I have a better idea. In the bratty tone I’ve been using all morning, I decide to demonstrate my own way of cleaning a runny nose. I roll up my sleeves, ready to show off, but before I can explain what I’m doing, another wide, uncovered yawn spreads across my face and quickly turns into two sneezes in succession. The second is another wet, nose-first snot rocket, only this one carries far more substance. A thick trail sh*ots into the air before breaking away and plopping onto the floor, where it forms a small puddle. I point it out like you haven’t already seen it, casually decide that you’ll clean it because I don’t feel like it, and laugh at your unhappy reaction.

Once I’m sure no more sneezes are coming, I return to my demonstration and tell you to watch because it’s basically like a magic trick. I plug one nostril and bl*w hard through the other, holding a hand underneath in case anything breaks free. Instead, a thick, stringy mass pushes out and jiggles beneath my nose without fully detaching. I switch sides and evacuate the other nostril the same way, leaving another mucusy strand stuck beneath my nose. When I notice your disgusted expression, I point to the dangling mess and act as though it’s barely anything. I then wipe beneath my nose with the backs of my hands and hold both snot-coated mitts close to your face for a personal inspection. See how easily I cleaned myself using nothing but my skin? Like magic.

You think my l*ttle exhibit is finally over, but I surprise you by shoving my extra-long, sharply pointed claw nails into my nostrils and starting to pick. I gush about how perfectly the hooked tips reach everything still left behind while I twist them through the harder-to-reach corners and switch between pointer nails, thumbs, pinkies, and any other claw that can root out another booger. Whenever I pull something free, I hold it up so you can witness it resting inside the curved nail before wiping it onto the back of my hand. The more I pick, the more of a collection builds across my skin while I sniffle, snort, cough, and bring my nose close enough for you to watch every scoop. You interrupt my happy nose picking by calling me gross, which makes my expression harden. I scoff and insist that I’m practical, realistic, and know exactly what I want.

Feeling done with your pestering, I retrieve my phone, tell you to stop bothering me, and wander off to be lazy somewhere else.

LATER THAT EVENING

It’s significantly later, and I’ve barely managed to put myself somewhat together. I’ve at least done my makeup, straightened my extremely long red hair, and changed into another casual lounge outfit. I’m on the phone with one of my girlfriends, going over our itinerary for the night. I nervously suck on my unbrushed teeth and glance around to make sure you aren’t nearby before quietly explaining that my plan is to tell you I’m attending a book club, when we’re actually going out dancing.

Without thinking, and still on the phone, I reach down the front of my pants and start scratching a bush that practically deserves a hedge trimmer. My fingers work through the thick hairy forest with loud, persistent scratching sounds. I pull my hand out and, again without thinking, give my fingers a quick sn*ff before noticing you entering the room. I immediately end the c*ll, turn toward you, and lay the sweetness on thick with a syrupy, overly cheerful, “Hi, h*ney.”

You immediately begin questioning where I’m going and why I’ve done my makeup, but I strategically avoid answering by abruptly changing the subject to another gross discovery. I claim the tiny G-string underneath my pants feels tight and uncomfortable, so I lower my waistband to prove it. The narrow thong is stretched across my extremely unshaved crotch, with bush spilling out around the top and sides. I scratch the unkempt growth, moving lower to where the thong is most uncomfortable, and soon realize the thin fabric is lodged into both my crotch and backside. To relieve the irritation, and to your horror, I reach even farther down between my legs and stick my fingers into my booty cr*ck, pulling the fabric loose with a satisfying snap. As soon as my hand comes back out, I unintentionally, yet habitually, lift it to my nose for a sn*ff. The odor rocks my head backward, but I smell my fingers again for good measure before suddenly pushing them directly beneath your nose and asking if they smell like an unwashed p*ssy.

Your reaction causes me to burst out laughing as you cough, sputter, and twist your face in disgust. I’m so amused by you that I decide to give you a more well-rounded experience. I impulsively stuff one hand down the front of my pants and the other down the back, briefly explaining that I need your help deciding whether I should shower before going out. You immediately catch my slip and question, “What happened to the book club?” Instead of answering, I breeze past the accusation, continue with my plan, and bring the odor-soaked hand from the front to your face too quickly for you to pull away. Before you can recover from the ripe crotch smell coating hand one, I bombard you with the hand from my backside. I follow this with the ultimate move, holding both hands on either side of your nose and creating a miasmic whirlwind of doom. You’re left coughing, recoiling, and looking increasingly ill while I laugh and insist that you keep sn*ffing.

The combined smell reminds you of something disturbingly familiar, and you point out that I left the bathroom door open during my earlier number two, letting the same w*ste-like funk spread through the hallway. Instead of feeling embarrassed, I burst into another fit of giggles, openly impressed that the odor traveled that far. Thinking about the smell coating my backside hand, I casually admit there might even be a streak inside my underwear. Since the worst of everything only seems to escape when I reach inside and bring it back out, I decide the tiny thong must be doing an excellent job of trapping the stench against my hairy body.

Curious whether all that overgrown hair is visible through my clothes, I pull my pants c*mpletely into place and begin inspecting the shape. The bush poking above the flat line of my G-string creates a noticeable p*och, so I turn sideways and ask if you can see it too. When you avoid answering and comment on how much hair I’ve grown instead, I pinch the raised section between my fingers to emphasize exactly where the thick growth is pushing against the fabric. I immediately dismiss your judgment with another piece of warped newlywed logic. According to me, marriage means I’m allowed to let things grow, skip a shower when I don’t feel like taking one, scratch whenever something itches, and generally do whatever crosses my mind.

For reasons I can’t explain, I bring both hands back to my nose for another deep finger sn*ff, only to recoil from the smell all over again. You ask why I keep doing it, but I shrug and insist that humans are weird, as though that settles everything. When you continue complaining that I no longer dress up or do my makeup for you, I finally decide I’ve had enough of your questions. I announce that I need some me time and that I’m going out to dance and get sweaty. Since I already know I’m going to come home even funkier than I am now, I c*mpletely dismiss the idea of showering first.

I grab my phone, tell you not to wait up, advise you to turn in for the night, and leave you standing there in disbelief while I stroll away as though this entire day has been a perfectly normal introduction to married life.

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This Video Is Part Of A 3-DAY Release

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Important Note: The two parts that make up the full video each cover a different mix of interests, giving you two distinct paths to choose from. Or, if you want the complete experience, wait for the full video to release on the third day and enjoy it all.

TODAY, I am releasing PART 1, with the contents of the video detailed in the description portion above.

Tomorrow, I will release the 2nd part.

In 2 days, I will release the whole video, which will have a discount added for your patience.

Nose Bl*wing Claws Jeans/pants Wetting Your New Wife Is Kinda Nasty - PART 1 with C4s.com