She leaned in close, hitting him with a wave of foul breath.

It let out a roar, its foul breath rolling over me, and I choked.

Cholera might come and blow its foul breath in my mouth - it wouldn't matter.

I said, shying back from that foul breath of his.

The stink of its foul breath made her want to gag.

Then I slammed into something else meaty and with foul breath.

He moved over to her, so close she could smell his foul breath.

She smelled his foul breath up close, and the stink of her own insides.

Its foul breath, smelling of blood, was warm against their chilling bodies.

She could feel its hot, fetid breath at her back and poured on a fresh burst of speed.

Its jaws were so close that the fetid breath sickened him.

Its fetid breath came up into my face like the steam from some foul pot.

Culver could not see them, but he felt their hot, fetid breath on his face.

He could feel fetid breath on the back of his neck.

She twisted her head, trying to avoid the fetid breath.

He could feel its hot, fetid breath against his cheeks.

He could feel the chill rising from it, smell its fetid breath.

The wind became their hot, fetid breath caressing his face.

He could almost feel hot, fetid breath warming his skin.