Fart fetish — smells like trouble *wink*
Fart fetish? I wouldn’t know anything about that. Knowing would imply that I, myself, fart and I would never do something so fowl. Letting hot, stinky air leave my back passage like that? A real lady would never do that. We are sensible and and sweet. We don’t fart. Now let’s forget you even brought it up and go to lunch, okay?
*A few bean burritos later*
“Oh, my.”
“Is something wrong?” You ask me.
“Of course not! I’m fine! Just fine!”
*stomach gurgles*
“That noise? It’s nothing. Maybe a plane is flying by.”
*stomach gurgles more*
“Excuse me!”
You watch as I race into the backroom and then you smile and follow. I’ve always acted so stuck up as if my farts literally don’t stink. Well, after the meal we just had, we’re both about to find out that they most definitely do. This time I don’t get to hideaway. You’re going to see, hear, and smell it all.
You enter behind me and see me doubled over my bed. I don’t even realize you’re there and suddenly release a huge gas cloud that is so forceful that my skirt flies up in the back from the force.
“Aaahhh!” I sigh in relief. I almost have this expression of pleasure as another one escapes my ass. My big ass cheeks flap hard against each other as one fart after the other shoot from my body. Then I suddenly feel something; your face-planting itself squarely at my ass.
“What are you doing?!” I shout, but all you do is hold my thighs so that I can’t wriggle away. There’s no stopping them. My body pushes out fart after fart directly into your face. It feels so good but I’m so embarrassed and things show no signs of stopping! What should I do?
Anal phone sex comes in so many different varieties. What’s yours?
