girlfriend who pulls you aside at a party to use your face to muffle her farts while making you count every single one of them. she tugs you into bathrooms, closets, guest bedrooms, even right outside the back door; anywhere for a minute of privacy. she pushes you onto your knees, grabs your hair, and forces your face into her plush asscrack before unloading deep, bassy farts into your nose, humid and raunchy.
your first declaration of "one." is confident and slightly challenging, albeit still tinged with the inherent embarassment of being in such a situation. her cold, narrowed eyes are set on you from over her shoulder, though her lips tip up slyly, like she's ready to absolutely destroy your resolve.
ten minutes of snacking on cheese puffs and sipping a seltzer later, she pulls you into a coat closet. you don't need directed this time, sinking to kneel behind her and eagerly nuzzling your nose into the cleavage of her ass. it bubbles and vibrates against your nose and mouth and you inhale the poignant reek deeply before softly groaning out a, "four." you linger there as long as the stench does before heading back out, nervously glancing at suspicious partygoers.
just outside the porch door, you huff her swampy crack and heady gas and you moan despite yourself, sniffing shudderingly as your face absorbs the impact of a repugnant, warbling fart. "twelve." your voice wavers ever so slightly, your mouth waters at the tantalizing stench, and your pants begin to feel far too tight.
you're becoming much more spacey in your conversations with other partygoers between being your girlfriend's cushion in a sort of growing intoxication from her smell, your mind focusing on the anticipation of not knowing when she'll pull you aside again. the wetness that's been accumulating between your legs is becoming uncomfortable and impossible to ignore. thankfully, your girlfriend seems to picks up on this, because she frees you from the conversation and pulls you up the stairs.
in a guest bedroom now, door locked, your girlfriend guides you to the side of the bed, where you sink to the floor with your back against the mattress and head tilted up, heart pounding and cheeks red. she wiggles her hips in your face teasingly before plopping the doughy mounds of her ass onto your face, engulfing your features fully. a wet, rancid fart drums against your face for several seconds straight, warming your skin and giving you goosebumps. you sniff and sniff and sniff before remembering you'll be reprimanded if you don't speak up, so you begrudgingly pull away and exhale a breathless, "twenty-one."
you prepare to stand back up and return to the party, but your girlfriend's hand on your head stops you. "you've been so good, muffling all my farts for me. i'd be so embarassed if anyone heard or smelled these." at that, she ripped more rancid, burbling ass against your nose ("mmmh... twenty-two."). "thank goodness i have your face, baby. nobody likes sniffing my ass like you."
you make a desparate, pleading expression up at her. "yes... yes, i do," you begin, breathless and embarassed at first before your voice raises as your eagerness bubbles to the surface, anxious to please her in a bid for some sexual relief. your hands reach up to fondle her cheeks through her pants, peppering little kisses near her crack. "i like sniffing you."
she seems pleased with your response and affectionately ruffles your hair before gripping it and forcing your snout right back into her ass. "listen to me, now. i want you to touch yourself as i let the rest of my farts out in your face. you're going to huff them all up, and you're going to keep counting. and don't stop even as you come."
the finality of her declaration as well as the juxtaposition between her kindness and her domineering authority had you reeling. you nod fervently into her crack, reaching down to begin playing with yourself, suddenly keenly aware of how pent up you were. she begins her onslaught, any remaining gas she'd built up from her constant snacking at finger food slipping out with no exertion required. they rumble against your face, warm and thick and with nowhere to go but right up your nose. your work yourself up as you murmur out numbers loftily, your brain not much more than static fuzz as hot brassy and bubbly sounds fill your head.
at twenty-seven, she holds your head firmly in place and your eyes roll back, moaning between every sniff. her farts are deep and bassy and purr against your face, settling on your tongue and saturating your lungs.
at thirty-three, she pulls her pants down just under the heavy folds under her cheeks, revealing smooth skin and a candy red cotton thong, stained maroon with sweat. you're leaking through your underwear as she rubs your face up and down in the cushiony, slick valley of her ass, her farts vibrating your skull with their intensity, the heavy reek now like a dense fog around you.
and at forty, you hump your hand furiously, panting and sweating as your body shudders involuntarily, keening and groaning and still sniffing in between ecstatic exclamations as she lets you have it with a fart that doesn't seem to end. it burbles and rumbles, delicious and pungent and hot and thick, and it gives you the most satisfying high you've ever experienced as you ride it out until her gas finally sputters out completely
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