(a wlw wip story excerpt)
For starters, M really liked girls. She struggled more to keep it cool when sketching female art models than a lot of her male classmates, and while she stayed selective in what she let people see, it was a simple truth that she'd done more than her fair share of sketching the women she saw around town.
But there was one girl who showed up more than anyone else, and that was A. M was always too afraid to show anyone (much less A herself) those sketches, but ever since she dyed her hair, M was enthralled by her aesthetic. From the jean skirt to the bomber jacket to the shock of neon hair, she practically screamed rebellion, self-confidence, and a complete unwillingness for ever acting the way a 'lady' should.
What's more, M had a favourite part about girls. It was their glutes, their rumps, their booties, bums, derrieres… she was crazy about ass. Something about their shape, their size, the way they moved, whether they were squishy or jiggly, it all made her heart flutter to think about. In hindsight, it wasn't that far-fetched that she'd end up focusing on anatomy and art models so much, because it let her fill her sketchbook with juicy girl butts. And if she had three wishes to make to a genie, one of them would probably be making her own hindquarters much more her size.
But until she got that wish, she'd have to give the award for Biggest Butt to A. It visibly stuck out to a noticeable degree, and while her jean skirt covered its curvature better than, say, yoga pants would, it still didn't leave much to the imagination. Especially the way the seat of the skirt had to awkwardly drape down over her backside, and even shook about when she ran.
But M's single favourite thing about a girl's ass wasn't the way one moved or flexed or felt… it was the way one smelled and especially farted. She wasn't too sure how looking at butts turned into wanting to hear and smell them, but she was hooked. She not infrequently caught herself fantasizing about the women she knew practically irradiating their seats with both silent and loud farts and letting that stench seep up through their asscracks into the surroundings, filling them with noxious girlsmells. Even better if she could smell that they already needed a shower…
And which girl had the muskiest, foulest, gassiest ass? Well… C could get some pretty potent swamp ass, but the winner here was A yet again. Whatever A's diet was made her farts absolutely rancid half the time, she had to fart surprisingly often, and they could linger more than long enough for M to get them secondhand after she left. Just looking at A's preferred fast foods reminded M of an adage that likely explained the stink – garbage in, garbage out.
And A's ass stunk like garbage. Her jean skirt seemed to carry a faint, flatulent, trashy aroma behind her at all times, and even when it wasn't too noticeable, her assmusk was usually enough to pick up the slack.
And who was sitting next to M?
Of course... it just had to be A.
