Every guy thinks that damn, I wish I had a big cock. A really big cock. I hit the lottery there. But careful what you wish for.
First, I get stared at. A lot. Like you there now. I bet you couldn't even remember my name. In high school I had all kinds of nicknames. So pretty much everyone knew what I was carrying between my legs. Even the girls.
I was confused at first. Thought I was straight. Tried fucking pussy. But you would be surprised how many backed out once they saw what I was working with. It gets too big even for a blow job. Maybe one of the reasons I started getting interested in guys because I thought I actually might be appreciated and not feared.
Guys want to touch it. To handle it. To feel the weight. In any group guys would graviate towards me. Sure I liked the attention. Who wouldn't. But I knew they weren't interested in my total package. Only my package.
I remember back in the day when you could go to sex clubs to fuck around. Damn, I miss that. I liked showing it off. You see, once it gets hard it really is massive. Right now, it is soft if you can imagine that. I actually haven't measured it when it is fully engorged. Let's just say you will be impressed.
Getting a blow job is not what you think it might be. Not many mouths or throats are equipped to accommodate my size. So it is usually a couple of hands stroking me with the guys mouth just down on the head and a bit more. I have found a few guys that can take the entire cock into their throat. Damn that feels good.
It is anal sex where it can be more of a liability than a gift. A fag's asshole is an amazing thing. It can expand to take what is going to go inside. Usually. Not always. I usually spend time eating a guy's hole and inserting my fingers - shit even my fist - to loosen it up. Those porn movies of a cock my size easily entering a willing hole is staged. It has to be loosened up. Big time.
If I do get it inserted into a willing anus, pushing it all the way inside can make the bottom think twice about what is gonna happen. I mean, think about it. A rectum is made for pushing things out, not taking things in. It is gonna hurt. And if the fucker's cock is my size, it is gonna hurt big time. Guys bend over and suddenly regret it.
I have learned to just ignore their squeals of pain. Shit, I sort of enjoy that part. The way I think of it is that they should have thought things through before presenting me their ass. I can pretty much destroy a guy's hole with this tool. Not exactly my problem.
Fuck I love to cum inside a guy. My balls produce so much fucking cum. And just grabbing onto a guy and letting it pump seed deep is so fucking sweet. I can stay hard a bit after shooting my load so why not pack my semen deeper, right?
Then I pull out. Holy fucking shit but it is hot to see a hole leaking cum and trying to close back up. Yeah, I have eaten plenty of my cum out of a sore, used hole. And then to watch the guy trying to walk like he just had a stick up his ass. Funny as shit. He will be feeling it for a few days. Guaranteed.
The moment Andrew stepped onto the Fort McCoy barracks grounds, he was greeted by a friendly soldier with an easy smile. “Hey, man, I’m Lieutenant Tyler Sumners. Welcome to Fort McCoy.” After a quick introduction, Tyler learned Andrew was looking for Room 2B and laughed when he realized they were roommates. Without hesitation, he grabbed Andrew’s bags, effortlessly slinging the heaviest one over his shoulder. “Damn, you sure have a lot of stuff in here. What do you have, bricks?” he joked as he led Andrew toward the barracks. Along the way, Tyler explained that the room was shared by four soldiers: himself, Corporal Daniel Smith, Private First Class Lucas Carter, and now Andrew. He warned him that Smith was a bit of a hardass, Carter was usually pretty chill, and both of them were completely incapable of acting like mature adults for more than five minutes at a time. By the time they reached Room 2B, Andrew wasn’t sure if he was moving into a military barracks or a frat house. Tyler led Andrew down the hallway and pushed open the door to Room 2B. “Alright, boys, our new roommate’s here!”
Andrew stepped inside and glanced around. The barracks were far nicer than he had expected. The room had a modern feel, with gray walls, dark furniture, built-in LED lighting, and six bunk beds arranged in three bays along the far wall. A couch and television sat in the center of the room, while a recreation area, dining table, kitchenette, and bathroom extended beyond it. Despite being military housing, the place felt surprisingly comfortable and lived-in. A broad-shouldered soldier sitting in a chair immediately looked Andrew up and down. The moment they stepped into the common room, Tyler called out, “Alright, boys! Our new roommate’s here!” A broad-shouldered soldier sitting in a chair immediately looked Andrew up and down. “Well, well, well, looks like we’ve got ourselves a fresh greenhorn. What’s your name, rook?” “Andrew.” Smith smirked. “Andrew? Sounds like a kid’s name. You look like a kid.” Across the room, Carter glanced up from the couch. “Easy, Smith. He’ll grow into it.” Andrew grinned and fired back a sarcastic, “Fuck you.” The room erupted with laughter. “Oh, look at this newbie with the sharp tongue,” Smith said. “I like him already.” After everyone introduced themselves, Andrew looked around the room and noticed six bunks stacked in two rows of three. The metal frames were covered in military-green bedding, duffel bags, and personal items. “So where’s my bunk?” he asked. Tyler pointed toward the middle section of the room. “Yours is the bottom middle bunk. Right there.” Andrew followed his finger and saw the bed tucked beneath Tyler’s upper bunk. On either side of it were the bottom bunks belonging to Carter and Smith. “So I’m stuck between those two?” Andrew asked. Tyler laughed. “Pretty much.” Carter grinned. “Don’t worry. We only fart bomb each other’s bunks occasionally.” Smith shook his head. “He’s lying. It’s at least twice a week and it’s not just the bunks, it’s the pillows that Tyler farts on more often, like every other day.” Tyler smirked. “Guilty, Look on the bright side. You’re in the safest spot. Nah-uh, Carter says, your under Sumners, he will gas you out every night, that’s why we are on the end bunks. Sumner responds to Carter’s correction with a swift move pulling his head down to his ass and letting a large fart right in his face. PPPFFFRRRRTTT. Aahhh want to keep correcting me guys? Sumners snarky question has both of them turn Silent. Good Sumners says, Andrew set his bags down beside the bunk and began unpacking. He put his clothes in the drawers underneath his bunk, hung up a few uniforms in the locker beside the bed, and started organizing his belongings while the others continued talking behind him. As he worked, the conversation somehow shifted from military training to fart-related warfare. “I’m telling you,” Smith said, pointing at Carter, “the worst one was in Germany.” Carter immediately started laughing. “No way. That one was legendary.”
Andrew glanced over his shoulder. “What happened?” Tyler groaned before Carter could answer. “Please don’t encourage him.” Carter ignored him. “Smith was asleep in his bunk. Dead asleep. So I climbed up there real quiet, leaned over the rail, and let out the longest fart of my life right next to his face.”Smith pointed accusingly. “It lasted like ten seconds!” “More like fifteen,” Carter corrected proudly. You woke me up out of a dead sleep!” “Yeah, because you sat straight up and smacked your head on the bunk above you.” “You deserved it,” Tyler said. Smith shook his head. And says well you deserve this then, then Smith shoves Carters head down behind him and lets out a low sounding PFFFRTT. Carter immediately breaks free and covered his face with one hand. “Oh God.” smith grins and walks away saying yea you deserve that. As Andrew finished unpacking and sat down on his bunk for the first time, Tyler climbed onto the bunk above him while Smith and Carter settled back into their usual spots. Looking around at the chaos, Andrew couldn’t help but smile. He had arrived expecting a cold, intimidating military environment. Instead, he’d walked straight into a loud, ridiculous, dysfunctional family that somehow already felt like home. As Andrew continued unpacking his gear, Tyler Sumners and Lucas Carter remained focused on their video game while Daniel Smith watched from a nearby chair, occasionally offering commentary that neither of them had asked for. Carter glanced over at Andrew’s bunk and grinned. “You’ve got a pretty good view from there, rookie. Front-row seats to all the action.” Smith laughed. “And by action, he means us being idiots.” Andrew chuckled as he slid another stack of clothes into his locker. Looking around the room, he noticed there were six bunks even though Tyler had only mentioned three roommates. “Hey, Sumners, question. If there’s only three of you, why does this place have six bunks?” Tyler looked up from the game and laughed. “Good question. We’ve actually got a fourth roommate named Dylan. He’s on night shift right now, so he’s probably asleep while we’re all awake. You’ll meet him later.” Carter smirked. “Yeah, he’s a real piece of work.” Smith nodded. “A real pain in the ass.” Tyler shook his head, already knowing where the conversation was headed. Despite the joking, Andrew could tell there was genuine affection behind the teasing. As he continued unpacking, he found himself wondering what living here would actually be like. The guys seemed friendly, but they were also loud, constantly joking, and clearly very comfortable around one another. He wanted to know if there would be room to relax and have some privacy when he needed it. Tyler seemed to pick up on the concern immediately. “If you’re wondering whether you’ll get space, the answer’s yes. We mess around, roughhouse sometimes, talk trash, and compete over stupid stuff, but nobody’s going to bother you if you need downtime.” Carter nodded. “Yeah, man. We’re loud, but we’re not jerks.” Smith smirked. “Unless you steal somebody’s snacks. Then all bets are off.” That earned a round of laughter from everyone.
Once Andrew had most of his stuff put away, he sat down on the edge of his bunk and asked what they had planned for the day. It was only eight in the morning, and he assumed they’d be heading to a gym for PT. Instead, Tyler laughed and set down his controller. “Honestly, our PT is usually more fun than that. We do partner workouts, carries, wrestling drills, obstacle courses—stuff where you’re working with each other instead of staring at weights all morning.” Carter flexed dramatically. “I’m basically Smith’s favorite piece of workout equipment.” Before Carter could move, Smith reached over and wrapped him in a playful headlock. Carter immediately started laughing and trying to squirm free. “See?” Smith said. “Perfect training tool.” Tyler shook his head. “These two spend half their time competing and the other half pretending they aren’t friends.” Smith released Carter, who immediately shoved him back, starting another brief wrestling match that ended with both of them laughing. “You want to try it?” Smith asked Andrew. “Come on, rookie. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Andrew shook his head. “I think I’ll sit this one out and just observe for now. I kind of want to see how everything works before I jump into it.” Tyler nodded immediately. “Fair enough. No pressure.” Carter pointed at Smith. “Probably smart. This guy thinks every new person is a challenge.” Smith folded his arms with a grin. “Damn right. Rookies always get smashed.” The room erupted into laughter again. Sitting there watching them joke, argue, play video games, and occasionally wrestle like brothers, Andrew found himself relaxing more and more. The atmosphere wasn’t tense or intimidating at all. It was easygoing, comfortable, and surprisingly welcoming—the kind of place where everyone looked out for one another even while giving each other a hard time.
Sumners gestured toward the empty space on the couch between him and Carter. “Come on, newbie. Crash with us. We don’t bite… much.” Carter patted the vacant cushion beside him. “Yeah, get in here. The view’s better from this angle.” Andrew walked over and sat down between them while Smith watched from his recliner across the room. Smith narrowed his eyes and pointed toward the couch. “Just don’t fart. We’re all on edge since Sumners had Taco Bell last night.” Almost immediately, Sumners shifted on the couch, leaning away from Andrew so that his backside was pointed in Andrew’s direction. PPFFFFRRRRTTTT. Sumners leaned back with a satisfied look. “Too late.” Carter glanced over and immediately held out a fist. “Damn, Sumners. That one had some bass to it.” The two exchanged a fist bump while Smith shook his head. “And here I thought we were gonna ease the kid into it.” Sumners folded his arms. “Consider that my official welcome gift.” Andrew caught a whiff and instinctively covered his nose and mouth with one hand. “Oh, come on,” Sumners said. “It wasn’t that bad.” Carter pointed at Andrew and smirked. “Dude, your face right now.
Sumners nodded toward Carter. A second later, Carter shifted on his side of the couch, turning slightly toward Andrew. PFFFFFFFTTTT. “Ahhhh… whoops.” Andrew leaned back against the couch cushions and stared up at the ceiling while Sumners grinned and gave Carter another fist bump. The two of them then looked toward Smith. A few moments later, Smith stood up from his recliner, took a couple of steps, turned toward Andrew with a mischievous grin, and paused. PBBBBBBT. Then he casually sat back down as if nothing had happened. Sumners immediately held out his fist. “Good one, Smith.” After another fist bump, Carter looked around the room. “The room is officially a biohazard zone.” Smith reclined comfortably in his chair and shrugged. “Consider it a welcome from all of us. To what we like to call Fart McCoy. ”
Andrew finally dropped his hand from his face and fell back against the couch cushions, his head tilted toward the ceiling in complete surrender. He took a deep breath, immediately regretted it, and started coughing. Once he recovered, he opened his mouth to say something. Sumners shook his head with a grin. “That was the most defeated sigh I’ve ever heard.” Carter tells Andrew “Just let it happen, man. The gas always wins.”Sumner adds to carters comment like a seasoned mentor. “First rule of Fort McCoy? Breathe through your mouth.” The room settled for a moment before Sumners suddenly leaned away and let out another PFFFTTTT. ooh- Carter reacted, then sniffed the air and nodded thoughtfully. “that’s the good stuff. Aged like fine milk.” Sumners smiled and high fives Carter. Still staring at the ceiling, Andrew simply accepted his fate as the room’s collective cloud of bad decisions lingered overhead. Sumners stretched comfortably and rested an arm along the back of the couch. “Okay, okay, I’ll call a ceasefire—for now. But at least you took it like a champ. Sumner adds.
Smith chimes in yeah, Most guys start crying by now." Carter adds "Yeah, or they throw up." Still lounging around the common room, the conversation gradually slowed as everyone settled back into their seats. After a few moments, Sumners glanced up at the clock on the wall and pushed himself off the couch with a stretch. “Alright, enough screwing around. We should probably head to chow. The sooner we get food, the sooner Carter’s gut can go to work.” Carter immediately groaned. “You guys are never gonna let that go, are you?” Smith smirked as he stood up from his recliner. “Not until your ass stops sounding like a tuba, buddy.” Sumners shook his head, grabbed his cap, and nudged Andrew’s shoulder as he headed toward the door. “C’mon, rookie. Let’s go eat before Carter preloads his next bioattack. Pro tip: sit upwind of him.” “I’m standing right here,” Carter replied. Before anyone could move, he shifted in his seat and let out a quick PFFFRRT. Sumners stopped in his tracks and looked back at him in disgust. “You’re sleeping with one eye open tonight.” Carter shrugged. “Worth it.”
The group started toward the hallway, but not before Sumners gave Carter a long look. A slow smirk spread across his face as he tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes, the kind of expression that made it obvious he was already planning payback. “Keep talking,” he said. “See you at lights-out.” Carter only grinned as Smith shook his head and followed them toward the door. “Ahhh, just like family. Welcome to hell, Andrew.” One by one, they filed out of Room 2B, still trading jokes and insults as they headed toward the chow hall
Straight back home from a long week of military training, he is letting his sweaty, disgusting ass be showcased out of his pants.. He says before he goes to sleep “if you dont put your face in my stinky ass in the next 3 seconds, ill force you down there myself and i will fill your face with my horrible gas for as long as i want, and that could be hours on end”. Of course you failed to obey, but only because you wanted that harsh treatment that only underlined that you are nothing but an object for him to use… 😳🥵
He's worked out your little fart fetish. Takes great joy in letting rip around you, in more extreme and intimate ways. Always passing them off as a joke between buds, as he waits for you to crack. How long do you think you can hide it for? You're already sitting there next to him trying to hide your erection.
It follows two cowboys, both idly traveling through the western frontier. They're hopping on trains, rangling horses, and staying at whatever towns hotel they just so happened to be in that night. They aren't eating the best diets, surviving souly on jerky, beans, and little bits of bread. So, to say they're gassy most of the time would be an understatement. And, the story starts in one of those gas filled days.
"Goodness gracious, Benjamin, could you stop with that." A voice cut through the silent night air, well, somewhat silent. Benjamin and Daniel were currently riding on a train, the cool night air flooding their senses through the small crack in the box-cars sliding doors. The crashes of lightening and the light rolls of thunder kept them occupied, along with the chugging of the wheels on metal track. But, something else, something more distant, was also accompanying all the noise.
Benjamin would let out a small chuckle, rolling on his side in the little makeshift bed he had set up with stray quilts and blankets they had stolen from a hotel a couple of towns back. He stared at Daniel, those sharp dirt brown eyes of his narrowing as he hiked up his leg under the blankets. A dangerously wet gurgle followed mere seconds later, about three seconds in length, simple, but the smell certainly made up for it. The smell was horrendous, like rotten eggs and days spent gorging on nothing but tin cans filled with baked beans. And, that smell had been hanging in the air practically all week.
"Oh, come on, don't be a baby about it, darlin'. Whenever you get all filled with gas, you just let it out whenever, but when I do it, all of a sudden, it's some kinda unholy sin." Benjamin responded with a sly tone in his voice. He slowly shifted his body up, back gliding against the metal of the box car. And, with every little movement, of course, Benjamin couldn't help but let out small toot after small toot, sputtering the more he sat up. "Excuse me, goodness, now I'm really starting to smell it. Guess the blankets kinda trapped the stink in, huh?" Benjamin had asked with another chuckle that was quickly cut short as his ears caught the sound of a groan. Or, at least he thought it was a groan. It didn't take long until Benjamin found out what it was.
Daniel had pressed his clad ass against one of the walls of the box car, hands wrapped around his abdomen, eyes shut as he pushed out a rather long bout of gas. He would sigh once finished, rubbing his bottom up and down the metal, a hand reaching down to take hold of one of his ass cheeks. Another long rumble of gas escaped passed his now parted cheeks, the sound rattling inside the box car.
"There we go. Might as well let some gas out myself. I gotta assert my dominance as the real farter here. Yours don't smell as bad as mine, but I guess that doesn't matter any." Daniel cooed, grabbed, and massaged his bottom as he continued to slip more gurgly and airy farts out. Benjamin couldn't help but roll his eyes. He knew he couldn't beat out Daniel from just smell alone, I mean, that would be like fighting off a bunch of robbers with a plastic knife. But, one thing Benjamin knew about his farts were their sound. Sound was better, yeah? Daniel's were usually airy and long, sometimes gurgly and bassy, depending on what he had eaten that day, like now. But, Benjamins were usually shorter, but wet and bubbly, always loud and overpowering.
"Yeah, go ahead and fart your heart out, Danny -" Benjamin started, grunting as he pushed out another bubbler, dampening the sheets he was still sitting on. "If I pass out from all that smell, it's gonna be your fault."
"I'll wear the badge with pride." Daniel had responded with nothing but another fart. Benjamin had laughed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes once again.
The rest of their ride had been filled with more gas. There wasn't a second that passed by when one of them, or even both of them, weren't farting. As the night went on, their gas got wetter, shorter, more sporadic. Daniel ended up having to finish their little fart-off early, claiming he felt something other than gas come out of him.
"Now you know why they have hay in these cars." Benjamin had said, back to laying comfortably within the sheets, now coated in a thick stench of gas and sweat. Daniel was crouched over a pile of hay, relieving himself best he could.
"Oh, shut up. You'd be in this exact position right now if you had eaten that jello. I swear it had gone bad." Daniel whisper-shouted as he strained, a slight moan falling from his lips as some stool slipped into the hay.
"Jello doesn't go bad, baby. Your belly just can't handle it, unlike mine. I have guts of steal." Benjamin retorted, rather proud, his sentence ending with a rather large fart, like a car trying to start. It then ended with a sickening splat. Benjamins face flushed up, body immediately straightening up from the place he was laying. His eyes, now worried slowly, drifted over to Daniel, who was still hovering over the hay.
"Alright sub. you know the drill. Take the boot off and sniff... good boy. Now, plant your face on the bottom of My foot and bask in it. Show Me some gratitude for letting you stick around and be my little housekeeper. I worked a double shift at the warehouse today, and what did you do? Remember, you only get three mess-ups before I punish you.
Alright, let's see... From here, I can spot a dirty coffee mug on the counter. you had all day to clean that up for Me, it should be in the dishwasher, if not fully washed, dried, and put away. That's strike one. you'll take care of that when we're done here.
Moving on. you've got My dinner in the oven, but it's not ready...it should have been ready to serve when I walked in the door. A Man shouldn't have to wait for His sustenance, sub. Strike two.
Strike three is just because I can...just because I want to. It'd be a shame to let these socks go to waste after I worked so hard to get them so funky. Here's your punishment: open your mouth and put it right under My toes, and breathe in deep with your mouth. That's right – inhale my stank. Just suck all that filthy, sock-filtered air into your mouth. No licking, just breathing. That's what a Man's day smells and tastes like.
Alright, here's how the rest of your night is going to go. After you bring My dinner to the table and serve Me, you can lay under the table and just inhale My sock sweat with your mouth while I eat. After dinner, I'll put one of the socks in your mouth to marinate for a couple hours. I guess that's your dinner tonight...my cheesy, sweaty socks. Maybe tomorrow, you'll be motivated to do better.
If I had the actual ass of my stepbrother on my face like that I'd cry 😭😂
Can't believe someone fell for a trick like that! If anyone, especially if they're your mischievous older brother, asks you to lay dawn arms and legs straight-Don't. Do. It!
In this case this guy got pinned just like that, wrapped up, and then forced to be full body immobile all while getting a face full of asshole
“Welcome to the gym sir, could I interest you in our own special protein powder. It contains 50% more protein and vitamins to push your gains to the max than other brands.” Cody was the customer's name, you’ve seen him walking into the gym nearly everyday. His looks was enough to draw the eyes of anyone but what was the true attention grabber was his ass, looking like a BBL but it’s all natural everyone was jealous of it. You became infatuated with him, even once waiting outside the bathroom for him to walk out. You rushed in right after he was done and got to experience the gas that stud could produce and wanted more. You offered him this new protein powder, one that's nothing more than a combination of multiple store both brands but the combo should be more than enough fuel to create the,
BBRBFTFTRBBRPRPTPFPFPPTPTRTTRTT.
Your inner thought was cut short by the explosion that came from the weight rack. It was him, Cody. While doing a deadlift he let rip one hell of a fart, the back of his shorts fluttered from the force as a smell that could singe nose hairs quickly enveloped the area. “That shit reeks” you hear from the other gym goers as the stray away from Cody. Not too long later
FRRFRRPTTPTPTPT
An airy blast came from him again, and again
BrPfFfTtTtT
AND AGAIN
rpppffttttpppPPPRRRFTTTTT
and again
FRPPPRFFBPPTTPTPTBRTTRT.
You walk up to Cody, “Sir we’ve been getting some complaints.” Cody turns to look at you covered in sweat and looking apologetic. “I’mn so sry this new protein isn’t agreeing with me, I guess I’m being kicked out.” This was your moment you thought to yourself as you proposed an idea to him. “Instead of kicking you out, I could act as your muffler.”
Cody's expression turns shocked but quickly changes to a sly smirk. “Well since you're offering!” he responds as he grabs your head and rips a nasty fart on your face. You feel the fabric ripple against your skin as the smell invades your senses.
FrrpppFbBbbbbBBRTTPBRRTTT
You can’t help but dry heave, on the verge of throwing up. He lets go as you fall to the floor, your face red and sweaty with a noticeable tent in your pants.
Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/buttsmasher/817000252260384768/officer-vanover?source=share
Tags: Face Farting, Gay Face Farting, Unwilling Victim, Open Mouth Farting, Naked Mouth Fart, F Slur Usage, Eproctophilia, Gay Victim, Straight(ish) Farter, Dubious-Consent, Forced Masturbation, Forced Ass Eating (Rimming), Musky Dom
I didn't run into Brandon at all for the rest of February. Likely he took some time off before he starts full time as Sgt. Vanover in March. I may or may not have worked in the Patrol Room a few hours to see if I'd run into him again. I can't rationalize why at all though.
Looking back at the situation, I am still disgusted by the fact that I ate someone's farts. Absolutely disgusted. But. Maybe if I do what he says, I can get another taste of his cock? That's what I keep telling myself anyways.
I do realize as I'm writing down my thoughts, how much of a perv I'm being. Literally lusting after a man who, lowkey, tortured me. But something about him, is just, addicting.
March 2 -
I haven't even made it an hour in my work day, and I'm being told by my boss that Sgt. Vanover is having issues in his office. My heartbeat picks up immediately knowing this could be my chance for a second meetup. However, as I get to his office, it's all business. Talking plans about changes he wants to make in the Patrol Area. Computers and equipment that will be needed.
I'm very professional, I keep up with him and track everything, but as we're walking and talking about the plans that he's wanting to do, I can't help admiring his muscular frame. From his thick arms to his thick ass, he's just a god among men. A few times I had to shake away the thoughts, but there is no hint of, well, anything from Brandon. The whole time, he has been very matter of fact and I got no inkling that he even remembers what happened last week.
I can't lie, I am a bit disappointed. I mean, thank whatever god out there that I'm not swallowing his farts. But. Nothing?
When we get back to his office though, he closes the door and my heartbeat speeds. "Don't get your hopes up." Is what he says after closing the door and making it back to his desk. "What happened last week." He plops down into his chair. "It can't happen again."
My mouth drops. "Wha-"
"Look, it was a mistake." He begins.
"But-" He holds his hand up and stops me.
"That should not have happened here." I hope I'm not imagining the implication behind the here. Because fuck, does he actually want me?
"Agreed." Is what I manage. "I don't think anyone should have to deal with your ass at point blank." There's a slight smile, but he smooths over the expression back to serious. "However, if you need someone to take care of," I clear my throat. "other needs. I may be interested."
"Don't get your hopes up nerd. Get out." I do as he says, still holding a little hope.
Much to my torture, he doesn't reach out or have any issues to fix.
March 14 -
It's 10:18 AM on my day off when my doorbell rings. I honestly ignore it and try to be as quiet as I can, as I wasn't expecting anyone. But then there is a pounding and I think I hear "Police Department, open the door!" I think about pretending I'm not there still but the pounding continues and I don't want the neighbors to cause a scene.
I open the door, and I'm pushed aside as Brandon storms my apartment. He's not in Police uniform, just some gym shorts and a tee. "Hello to you too." I close my door and turn to face him. "Can I help you?" There's a look in his eyes that I can't really read and he doesn't seem too jovial.
"On your knees, hands on your head." He orders and yes, I was about to follow his orders.
"Can we talk first?" I try.
"On. Your. Knees." He says through gritted teeth and I know not to press my luck. He must be having a shit day or something.
I get down on my knees and put my hands behind my head.
"That wasn't so hard, was it." He saunters up so that his crotch is in my face. I can smell the musk from here, he must have just finished a workout. "Keep your hands behind your head and we won't have a problem." He grabs both sides of my head with his hands and pulls my face against his crotch. "How's that smell faggot."
"Amazing." I take a large inhale of his musky crotch.
"Yeah it does. Because that's the smell of a man. Not some prissy little fag like you." I almost take offense, but I don't care. His dong and musky balls are right there in my face and this may be my one opportunity.
With the all the sincerity I can, I ask "Please sir, can I please suck your dick. It smells so good."
Brandon starts laughing hysterically. "No. No you may not." He dry humps my face anymore. "Like I said, don't get your hopes up." He lets go of my head and I'm about to drop my hands when he gives me a stern look. "Don't you dare move." He grabs the waistband of his shorts and slowly pulls them down over his bulge. I can't help but stare at that large imprint in his grey boxer briefs. Fucking hell he's sweaty, did he come straight from the gym? "God you're fucking pathetic. You're practically drooling over me." He gives the outline of his cock a squeeze and shake. "This is what you want, but," He turns around so his ass is facing me. "this is what you're getting faggot."
A involuntary whine comes from me. Not this again, I don't know if I can survive another one of these tormented games. "Suck it up. You're lucky I'm even giving you the time of day."
"I don't know man, this isn't really my-" I can't finish the sentence. He's already grabbed my hands and back of head to force me against his meaty ass. "Please don't." I scrunch my face as he rubs his sweaty ass up and down my face. It already smells bad, he hasn't even had to fart yet. What the fuck did he do before he got here?
"You do as I say." There was no room for argument. "Do yourself a favor, get your nose in my fucking hole." Not like I had a choice anyways. I move slightly so that I am pressed against where I think his nasty hole is. I'm bracing for impact but nothing happens and as I go to take a deep breath:
I yell a muffled scream into Brandon's ass the same time he lets out a sigh of relief. The fart was loud, or maybe that was cause I'm at point blank, and the overwhelming stench of rotten broccoli hits me. I try to pull away to catch my breath, but Brandon's hand is still holding me in place.
"Ah fuck yes." Brandon says as I cry into his perfectly molded ass. I'm already lightheaded from the fumes.
"Fuck, stop, I can't do this." I manage to throw Brandon's hand off me and stand back up. "I can't," There's definitely tears running down my face. "It's just so bad."
Brandon just stares at me for a few moments without saying anything. I can't tell if he's angry or what, but there's gears turning in his head. "Even if I let you suck me off after?" He says.
"I-" Before I can continue my sentence, I stop. "Is this another trick?" That's when Brandon gives me this devilish smirk.
"Guess you'll have to find out." He gives his ass a playful smack. "Now get back on your knees or we'll start having issues."
"Only if you let me suck you off man." He nods, still smiling. "Please go easy." I get back on my knees.
"That's not happening." He says non-nonchalantly before yanking my hair to pull my face back against his ass.
PFFFFFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT
"Fuck, that slipped out." He said as he's still adjusting. I hold my breath, this doesn't go unnoticed. "If I grace you with one of my farts, you fucking sniff." He emphasized this by pulling my hair a little tighter. I didn't mean to breathe in, but the pain made me react and I realized now why he wanted me to smell. The smell was the worst out of anything he's given me so far. All the worst smells you can think of combined and shot directly into my face. "Fucking sniff, now!" He barks the order and I listen.
I inhale the whole fart. All ten or eleven seconds of the monstrous beast. It burns the whole entire way down to my lungs and for a moment, I feel as though I'm going to throw up. But I swallow it down (the vomit and disgusting ass fart) and try my best to stay upright.
"See, that's a good faggot. Sniffing up my farts like a good little bitch." He gyrates his hips forcing my nose to go up and down his dirty crack. "I betchu actually like sniffing my farts. All this pretending and you really want it."
"Fuck off, you know why I'm doing this."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that faggot."
PFFFFFFFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT
"These farts gracing your nose are coming from Grade A, Premium American Beef. I mean look at me, I'm a GOD compared to you." I can't really argue the whole god part. "Come on, another big breath of man gas." I whine but start inhaling loudly for Brandon's benefit.
PFFFFFFFFBBBBBBBBRBRRRRBRRRRRRRRRR
"Fuuuuuuck." He moans. "That was wet as fuck. Might need to wipe your face after that one." That's the line. I immediately ran to the nearest trash can and emptied my stomach. "Oh come on, don't be a bitch." He antagonizes.
"Fuck. You." I don't even look away from the trash can. I wipe my hand over my face several times, but there's nothing there. It's just the smell that's lingering now from taking so many rank farts to the face.
I don't hear him approach, he's just next to me, patting my back. "I get it. My ass is too much to handle." He says like it's not a ridiculous sentence. When I'm looking at him, there is a moment where I feel like he cares. But it's gone as soon as I see it when that cheeky smile reappears.
"No more." I say before he can begin.
"Yes more." His hand moves to my shoulder blade, where he puts pressure. I realize he's trying to push me back to my knees and I resist.
"I-I can't." I shift away from his grasp and move to the other side of the trash can. "You can't make me. Please."
"I think we both know that I can and will." His tone shifts to impatient. "Knees, or things are going to get really unpleasant." I can't stop the whine that escapes my throat. He's right, I know he can make me. I try thinking up of any way to get out of this. "Take your pants off." My train of thought departs from my brain.
"What?"
"Take your pants off." He says again. "Then on your knees." I sigh and reluctantly remove my sweats, leaving me in a pair of blue briefs. "Seriously? You're such a faggot."
"Hey!" He shrugs my exclamation off.
"Knees." He reminds impatiently. I begrudgingly move back closer to him and drop down to my knees. He closes the distance, making sure his bulging cock was right in front of my face. We sit here for an antagonizing moment as I salivate over his thick cock, my own cock starting to show interest. Brandon roughly grabs my head and pulls my face against his crotch. "Breathe me in faggot." He doesn't have to ask twice. I inhale across his bulge and I can feel my eyes roll back. His cock is so fucking musky and I feel my brain go fuzzy again.
"Fuck." I say mostly to myself as I go in for another inhale. This makes Brandon huff in amusement.
"Be careful there faggot. You may get addicted."
"For this cock, it'll be worth it." Brandon gives full laugh at that and I startle as I realize I said that out loud. "Please, we're right here. Let me suck you off. I'll make you feel so good." I mouth at the tip of his cock through is boxers. "I'll be good. Please." I can't help that I sound like a begging fool, but fuck, I need something.
Brandon's hand moved to my cheek where he cupped it gently. It was a weird feeling compared to the earlier roughness. "You're such a faggot. I'm going to ruin you so badly." The evil smile gracing his face scares me. "Let's play a game." He removes his hand and takes a single step back (and if I leaned to follow his cock, no one needs to comment on that).
"What kind of game?"
"Start stroking that small dick of yours."
"I'm bigger than average."
"Shut up and start stroking." I longingly stare at his bulge wishing I could see him stroking himself. I listen to Brandon though and start slowly stroking my small (that's bullshit my cock is not small!) cock. "Just like that. Keep going, don't stop."
I do as he says as he adjusts himself again so that his ass is facing me. He pulls me close against his ass again.
He starts farting against my nose again. I feel myself starting to go soft again, but then he turns around and dry humps my face with his hard cock. I feel my cock gain interest again and I stroke through the awful smell of the fart. "There we go." He flips again.
"Fuck yeah, breathe it in faggot. And keep stroking that cock!" He says as I briefly stop to try and compose myself. The fart is incredibly eggy and the I can taste it in the back of my throat. I keep stroking as he says but he doesn't hump my face this time. His ass is just point blank against my face and I can feel my nose poking against his clothed hole.
Two airy farts directly up my nose as I keep stroking my cock. I cough through the ass blast as he turns around again and throws his grey boxers off towards my sofa. His cock is on full display and he slaps my face twice with it. "Good faggot." He emphasizes with his cock slapping my cheek. "You may suck on the tip." He holds his cock on display in front of me.
I look up at him to make sure he's not joking and he just nods his head. I wrap my mouth around the tip and moan against the taste in my mouth. He's so fucking musky. I swirl my tongue around the tip of his cock and he throws his head back with a sharp inhale. "Fuuuck." He moans as he grabs the back of my head. I pray that he pushes further in, but he doesn't. Instead he pulls out with an audible pop from my mouth.
"No." I whine, licking my lips to keep the taste in my mouth.
"Seriously. Pathetic." He turns back around so his bare ass in my face. "Alright faggot, time to get to work. I want that tongue running up my crack yesterday." He starts barking orders. "And you better not stop stroking that puny cock."
I stare at his ass, knowing that if I do this, he's going to use the opportunity to fart in my mouth. He doesn't wait, he pulls my face back in. "Tongue out, hand on cock." He orders again and I do as he says. What's the point of all this cat and mouse anyway. He clearly has his own goals here and mine don't matter.
I slowly run my tongue up his musty crack, hating every second of it. Brandon doesn't seem to feel the same though as he shakes his sizeable ass around my face. I try focusing my attention to the taste of his cock as I lick against his hole, but I'm greeted with a terrible bomb.
15 terrible seconds of pure man gas against my tongue. This time though, I take the gas and swallow it. Tears are free flowing from my eyes as I keep stroking my cock. It's torture, that's the best word for it. He's making me go through hell, but also making me keep myself hard the whole time.
PFFFFBBRRBFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT
Another fart, this time not on my tongue, still the smell burns as I inhale the fumes. Fuck I'm so close though. "Brandon." I whine as the sewage odor ruins my nose. "I-I'm so close."
He roughly adjusts me so my nose is pressed against his hole again. "Breathe this in, and cum." I loudly breath in through my nose as the fart hits:
"Yeah eat those fucking bombs!" It's like the intensity of his gas went up 100%. It doesn't help that I'm already breathing hard from the fact I'm still cumming. Ropes upon ropes of cum keep shooting; I've never had an orgasm this intense. And on top of it all, I was still breathing in his disgusting guts. Enjoying it even? No, no, I wouldn't go that far.
After shooting an intense load all over the floor, Brandon lets go of his grip on me. "See faggot, you did enjoy it."
"I did not." I don't know why I'm even arguing. I had some enjoyment, even if it was just getting a taste of the tip of his cock.
"You have a poor way of showing it." He says as he grabs hold of his dick. Fuck yes, this is it, I finally get a full taste of him. He gives himself several pumps so that he's fully hard again. "You're lucky I have to leave." He starts stroking himself at a faster pace. "Because I could go for at least another hour. But ya know, got a wife to go entertain for a bit." He starts making grunts and a face that seems like he's getting close and I realize he's about to go back on our deal.
"Wait!" I yell, but it's too late. He's shooting his load and I immediately jump so I can wrap my lips around his cock. I get halfway down his cock when I feel him shoot a load into my mouth. That salty taste hits my tongue and my brain goes blank. He tastes amazing and I loudly gulp the load down.
"Fuckin-" Brandon pulls his dick out of my mouth roughly. "Control yourself faggot." He grabs my hair and pulls. "I did not-" He begins to yell.
"You promised!" I interjected just as loud as I watch a load of his cum shoot onto the ground.
"Too bad. I'm the man, I get to decide what I give." As he continues to pull my hair and goes back to stroking himself through his own orgasm. Making sure I watch as every drop of cum hits the carpeted floor. "Look, now you wasted my manly cum." I would argue he wasted the cum, but it doesn't matter. He releases my hair and pushes me backward with his foot so I land on my back.
He turns around again and I fear I'm about to get butt bombed again, but he walks away. I see him reach down and grab his boxers before looking at me and then back to his boxers. He brings his ass to the boxers and rips ass again. "Parting gift." He throws it and it lands on my face. I can't help myself, I bring the boxers to my face and sniff. It's rank, but underneath the fart I can smell his muskiness and I'm addicted.
I don't even register that he's put his shorts back on and opened the front door as I'm too preoccupied with the dirty boxers. "Pathetic." He says and I hear the door shut.
"Fuck." Is all I'm able to say. I'm staring at his sweaty boxers and bringing the crotch back to my nose. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm fully erect again and I look over to the spot where he came. I lean down and lick the cum off the carpet, getting carpet fibers on my tongue. I definitely regretted that for a few hours.
As I sit here in the aftermath of my...torture? I stuff myself back into my briefs and look down at the pair of boxers that Brandon kindly left me. I hope I never have to return these.
March 16 -
I arrive at work and as I open my office door, I see Sgt. Vanover walking down the hallway towards HR. I don't know why the first thought was that he was snitching, but that didn't seem likely. He's getting some weird enjoyment out of this, I wouldn't think he'd want to ruin that. He doesn't even acknowledge me, but maybe he didn't see me.
I try not to worry about it. I have enough to deal with in my work day without having to worry about him. I'm typing on my computer when I see him walk by again. I can't help that my eyes go to his ass in those uniform pants. Even if I don't like what that ass puts me through, it's still an amazing ass that needs appreciation. He catches me staring, gives me a smart-ass smile and a nod, before just breezing past.
I try to go back to work, but it takes me at least 30 minutes before I can get my brain off him. I even play with the idea of busting a nut in the bathroom so I can have some post nut clarity. Absolutely not, that's crossing a line. But the line has already been crossed hasn't it? This is going to problem.
Especially when I open my desk drawer and there's a pair of green boxer briefs of the same brand that the Sargent wears. I bring them to my nose and take an inhale: There's no mistake, Brandon's smell.
This dude is going to kill me. Or get me fired for being too horny at work. I realize I have a pair of boxers to my nose in the middle of my office and immediately throw them back into the drawer.
my older brother was a grade A bully my whole life. His go to was to make me make bets with him that he’d always win. I stopped playing video games all together because I started to associate them with being forced to smell his farts. I’d wised up though and stopped agreeing to any bets with him. But as much as I hate to admit it my brother is just smarter than me and he knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to bet with him again,
I’d recently started playing a lot of online chess. I wasn’t the best but I certainly better than most casual players. My brother noticed my new hobby and started teasing me about it. “Of course you love chess, nerd” “I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, you spending your free time playing chess with a robot, or that you always lose to that robot!” And eventually the comment he’d been building up to the whole time “You’re such a loser. I bet you couldn’t even beat me at chess”. I wish it didn’t but this caused me to look up from my phone. His evil eyes and cheeky smile goading me. “Seriously? Do you even know how to play chess?” My voice was dripping with annoyance.
my brother chuckled “of course! It’s just a bunch of knights and kings and wizards and shit that dorks like you play with on a board”. I rolled my eyes at him. “There are no wizards in chess”
“okay Dorkwad. Wizards or not I bet I can beat your ass at chess with ease”. There it was again. I should’ve just ignored him but feeling confident against my brother for the first time I answered “oh yea what do you bet?” This is when my brother’s face grew into a full on wicked smile. I should’ve known then betting with him was still a bad idea.
my brother feigned thinking for a moment but he had already planned all of this out. “How about…the winner gets to give the loser wedgies all night and the loser has to let them”. My brother raised his eyebrows up and down at me a couple times playfully.
The wedgie bet did embolden me further. Usually my brother’s bets were nastier. Fart sniffing or foot rubs. I’d even lost one before where my face had to be his deodorant stick for a whole week, that was a rough one. But just wedgies and for just one night? I deduced that meant he wasn’t confident in his win and didn’t want to risk subjecting himself to anything too brutal for too long. Of course I was wrong.
“fine. You’re on, wedgie boy!” I jabbed back at my brother. This made him laugh. “That’s the spirit bro!”
We made our way to the chess board in the den and while I did have whispered thoughts that this was not a good idea, that my brother could actually be good at chess, it was a cake walk. He didn’t play with any strategy just moving pieces on whims. Whereas I knew exactly what I was doing with each move I made. The game was fine in less than ten minutes. “Ahh nice job dork. I guess you win”. I was so happy I had finally gotten one over on my brother. “Ready for your wedgies, loser!” I tried my best to sound like him.
“Give me one sec bro. I’m actually free balling at the moment.” My brother played with his junk as he said that making me roll my eyes. He left to go out on underwear, or so I thought, and I started to set the board back up. I did take a picture of my dominant win first just so I could lord it over him for a while. I wasn’t pay attention when my brother returned though. In his hands were a roll of duct tape and two large zip ties. Before I had a chance to even compress what was happening he had my hands behind my back and was restraining them with vigor.
“What the hell dude!” I exclaimed as he jumped off me laughing at the sight of me,
arms bound behind my back.
“Uh oh dork, how’re you supposed to give me any wedgies with your arms stuck like that?”. He was playing dumb and really pissing me off.
“Exactly dude let me go!” I yelled at him. My arms pathetically swinging behind my back. “Oh wait I have an idea!” My brother spoke with a mocking tone. I saw his eyes grow dark and his smirk became slightly more aggressive. I knew that meant I needed to get away but I was already cornered. My brother was on me and had my head pinned face up on the den couch cushion in seconds. “There ya go bro. You won fair and square. So I have to let you give me wedgies allll night”. He emphasized the word have as he stood over me his legs straddling both sides of my body. “But without hands I guess your only option is to wedgie me with your face!” My brother then dropped his shorts exposing his crusty boxer briefs. I really started to struggle then but I couldn’t get up with my hands tied
“Don’t worry loser, I only wore these to the gym three times last week. They’re pretty clean”. Turning around my brother showed me his boxer clad ass. A light skidmark running up his crack. “Dude please don’t! I won this isn’t fair!” I begged as my brother began to squat down on my face. His ass and skidmark growing in size as they approached me until I was consumed in his musk.
“Ahhh there it is. Come on dorkazoid. Do your worst. I want my underwear wedged up my crack the farthest you can get it.” My brother teased as he rubbed his crack on my face pushing my face deeper and deeper. His ass stunk so bad. A combination of his unwashed dirty underwear and him never washing his ass either.
“Wow bro, this isn’t so bad. I don’t know why you’re always such a whiny baby whenever I wedgie you”. My brother teased as if the wedgies he gave me even compared to him shoving my face in his butt.
“Uh oh dork! I’m feeling a little gassy. I guess wedgie night is gonna be a lot more than you signed up for!” My brother cackled and all I could think was I will never bet with him again.
This is why you all need to start your own blogs so I can have more stories like this to read ☝️
"Oh, good morning, I see you were eager to make a start on my ass. Didn't even let me wake up before you were pulling down my shorts. Ok then, get your tongue in there. Though just as a warning, I've got some morning gas brewing... Ah thats better...no, no, it's what you wanted, don't back out now"
After his friends saw his internet porn history, Kevin freaked out that his secret dream to be a fart slut was out in the open. Turned out, it was the best thing that has ever happened to him. The group thinks it’s hilarious and has no problem ripping all their gas onto his face. They’ve even thought up of giving him “fart bukkakes” where they keep him in the middle of a circle of their farting asses. He’s never been happier
He likes to do super sets. He gets all the equipment he needs ready for the two exercises before he starts. For these two he needs a dumbbell and me lying parallel to the bench. After he's finished the curls, he'll put the weights down, and move on to bench dips. He will let rip on each descent and my job is to sniff it all up. He's told me that if I don't do a good enough job as his fart sniffer, and he gets a whiff of any left remnants when back on the curls, then he'll drop the weight on my face.
I did an escape room for the first time earlier this month (all by myself, no less), which was really fun! It also taught me that during escape rooms, an employee observes you/your group while you’re completing the room. This makes sense; after all, they have to be able to offer hints when needed, and check that no one is wrecking the place or in any distress.
What I didn’t expect was that the person watching you doesn’t have to be in the room. My supervising employee watched me through a camera from another room, and I’m almost certain they could hear me too.
I’ve seen fart kink prompts before where a group of friends get locked into an escape room (wouldn’t really happen; you can leave at any time) and one of them gets SUPER gassy, prompting the group to try to rush through the puzzles.
But what if….
A new employee (A) at an escape room chain is pushed into overseeing the game of a specific customer (B). A isn’t told why their coworkers refuse to watch this person, or why the coworkers are snickering at the idea that A is going to start this shift with no context. From what A can tell based on checking them in, B is a polite, friendly person. In fact, to A’s embarrassment, B can absolutely tell that A thinks they’re a bit attractive. The only strange thing is B’s efforts at making sure they’re doing the escape room by themself, but even that’s not overly rare. Some people are just anxious around others in cooperative situations, or they like to mentally challenge themselves.
A gets B set up, then goes into the control room, where they observe B (we’re assuming this chain is lucky enough to have multiple control rooms, so A can be alone). It isn’t too long - maybe 5-10 minutes in - before A learns why B got the room to themself.
Suddenly, belches and farts start booming from the mics. A watches B calmly walk around the room, solving puzzles as easily as they rub burps out of their stomach, or cock a leg to better release cheek flappers. The gas is louder and more constant than anything A has ever witnessed, and it keeps going as B’s hour (or however long they’re given to solve the room) ticks down.
There’s nothing A can do but blush and squirm as B deflates like a human balloon, wondering if B even knows that they have an audience.
Then at some point, after a really nasty-sounding fart, B answers this by saying out loud, “Hope you’re enjoying this."
Finally, B solves the room with minutes to spare. A enters (immediately surrounded by an atmosphere of funk) to congratulate them and give them a little “You did it!” card. B apologetically explains that they have a huge gas problem, so they always reserve escape rooms for themself. They’ve developed a habit of “surprising” the employees with their condition, and they hope they didn’t give A too bad of a time.
A just points to the part of the “You did it!” card, where they (against company policy!) wrote their phone number.
Tags: Face Farting, Gay Face Farting, Unwilling Victim, Open Mouth Farting, Naked Mouth Fart, F Slur Usage, Eproctophilia, Gay Victim, Straight(ish) Farter, non-consensual (some), Power Imbalance
Here I was, on my knees, underneath a desk setting up a computer in the new Sargent's office. Nothing abnormal, until I felt a hand slap my ass and give a squeeze.
I audibly yelp and immediately turn to see Officer Vanover giving me a shit eating grin. "Whoa man, I don't know you like that." I eventually get out and he laughs in response.
"Not yet." He gives me a wink.
Officer Vanover is an attractive guy and all, but there is a small problem: As far as I'm aware, he's a married man. When I Facebook stalked him, there were clearly tons of photos with him and his wife, ranging from their wedding to vacation photos. So, this was more of a hazing thing more likely than a sexual thing, I decide.
Now, here's my problem. Officer Vanover is hot. I hate to admit that, but it's true. At minimum he's 6 foot 1, has an ass that won't quit, fit as hell and his face card and ginger beard are to die for. And his uniform pants hug his ass so tight that you can see the lines of his boxer briefs. It's so fucking erotic and half the times I'm around him, I have to rush to get away before I do something I regret. Thoughts of him throwing my 5 foot 5 self around plague my mind way too much when I'm around him.
My interactions with Officer Vanover started the first week I started in February.
February 12 -
When I start messing with the printer, he came over and just stood next to my left. Not say anything at first, just hovered. It's odd, but not necessarily anything new. After a few minutes of not finding anything wrong with the printer, I finally say "Do you know what's wrong with the printer? It looks fine to me."
He gives me an expression that he's thinking, but shakes his head no. I sigh and get ready to go to the Police Lieutenant to see if he can tell me what exactly the issue is when Officer Vanover hikes his right leg up and rips ass directly at me. "Oops." He says with that shit-eating grin. It's gross, but it doesn't smell like anything.
"Get outta here man." Half-laughing as I plug my nose. He keeps laughing, but he does go back to one of the Patrol Desks. I keep working away, Officer Vanover keeps farting and eventually Officer Hanford shows up.
"Jeezus it reeks. Brandon, what the fuck are you eating."
"How you know it's me. Could be the IT guy."
"Hey!" I yell from the other room.
"Because it always stinks when you're here." Officer Hanford groans before taking another desk.
I step out into the room to say something, but Officer Vanover is straining his face when a loud fart rings out in the Patrol Room.
"Fuck this, I'm working in my car." Officer Hanford gets up almost as quickly as he sat down. "Sorry new guy." He says to me as he leaves.
Officer Vanover gives me a wink, and another ringing fart before I go back to the printer.
Another 15 minutes of his farting and getting no where on the printer before I determine there's nothing wrong and printing is working fine. I say my goodbyes to Officer Vanover and let the Lieutenant know that the printer is working. I found out from him that Officer Vanover was the one who reported the issue though. I found it strange he reported the issue but didn't tell me that when I was working on it.
February 16 -
I get called down to the Patrol Room again, and once again, just Officer Vanover. He gives me a smile, I ignore the way that it makes my heart beat quicken. This time there is an issue on his computer. "Officer Vanover, we need to stop meeting like this." I try to joke, and he laughs, but there's a feeling in my gut that this isn't going a normal interaction.
"You can call me Brandon." He shows me the issue and it leads me to having to go under his desk to mess with the cabling. As I'm trying to make sense of the cabling, I see him scoot his chair in and block me under the desk.
"Hey, whatcha doing?" I say as his legs force me against the cubicle wall. It's still workable, just uncomfortable.
"Just keep working and I'll keep working on my document." His keyboard does start to clack.
"Why don't you use a different desk. There's not enough-" I was beginning to argue when he man spreads. And there's his bulge, right there where I can admire it. "Actually, I think I can work like this."
"What I thought fag." That's what I thought he said, but that couldn't be right. I didn't press him about that.
I found the issue with the cables pretty quickly as well. It was clear that someone, most likely Officer Vanover, er Brandon, had pulled the ethernet cable. I plugged it back in, but I didn't say anything yet, as I was still admiring his bulge. Actually it was more than just a bulge, he had a fucking hard on now. His fat (holy fucking shit) cock was straining and he put he grabbed it and shook it.
"Oh my god. Are you-" And before I can finish, he grabs my head and pulls it hard against the seat of his chair and his ass.
PBRBRBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
A loud fart echos from Brandon's seat and I'm forced to inhale his gas. And this time, it stunk bad. I start coughing and gagging "Fuck! Let go!"
PBRBRBRBR PRBBFBFBFBRBRBR
I'm don't know how many farts just came from his ass, but it was wet and disgusting. The smell was eggy and I gagged hard. I pull away from Brandon's hand. He's laughing hard as he backs his chair up from me.
"Sorry, gotta make sure the new guy is welcomed." He says, boner still pressed against the fabric of his pants. He makes a show of adjusting himself, giving me a wink, and then stands up from the chair to leave.
PFFFBBRBRFFFFFFTTTTTT
"For the road." He says at the entryway.
I'm sitting on the floor, stuck, not sure what to do. I mean this was a line that got crossed professionally. Do I go to the L-T and let him know what just occurred? Do I just leave it alone?
Ultimately, I finish what I'm doing and hide back in my office. But I don't stop thinking about what happened. I'm not into all the farting stuff, but dude, that fat dong has me salivating. The thought of being back under the desk sucking on that hog (pun intended) makes it difficult to focus.
February 23 -
There had been a few run ins with Brandon over the couple past days, but nothing of note. That changed though on the 23rd.
The lieutenant asked me to assist with getting new equipment setup in a side office for a new Sargent that would be starting soon. Not an abnormal request, so I do my thing.
That's where I feel the hand on my ass. Brandon is there giving me that shit-eating grin again.
"Whoa man, I don't know you like that."
"Not yet." He gives me a wink. "But now that I'm Sargent, I'm sure you'll be getting to know me pretty well."
"Wait, is this going to be your office."
"Yup." He pops the P loudly and I can't help but watch the way he licks his lips. Fuck I need to get out of here.
"Well, congrats man. I'm going to keep working, so if you don't mind removing your hand." He removes his hand and walks away. I can't help the sigh of relief that leaves my lips, but then I hear the door close and the lock latch. I turn my head quickly to see the blinds closing as well. He makes eye contact with me and points to the black sofa. "Wha?"
"Sit down." He says impatiently. And I don't know if it's his tone or the arousal in my brain, but I do as I'm told. "Look, you're a fag, you can't help that. But, you need to keep those eyes of yours to yourself."
"What? You just grabbed my ass."
"I'm not a fag though."
"That's kind of fag behavior though." I don't stop myself. "What game are you playing here?" I say angrily.
"Watch your tone. I'm a man, fags don't get to talk to men like that." Who the hell is this guy?
"Fuck you man, I'm going to L-T." I get up from the sofa, but immediately Brandon grabs me and moves my hands behind my back and puts me in cuffs. "What the hell man?" He pushes me back to the sofa where I land face first.
"You have the right to remain silent." He puts his knee on my back, preventing me from moving. I can feel him shifting and adjusting behind me. When he grabs me and flips me to my back, I can see that he's shirtless. And of course he has an awesome body. I try to ignore that fact but then his hands go to his belt and he drops his pants. His fat dong, already fully erect in his cobalt blue boxer briefs.
"I-" I lose the words as I see him pump his cock through the boxers.
"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your pick fag."
"What does that even mean? Brandon, what are we doing here." I go to stand back up, but he pushes me back down.
"Don't get up unless I tell you to." He says as his hand is forcefully pushing my chest into the sofa. He's towering above me and I'm trying to keep eye contact, but my eyes move back to his cock. "Fag, can't even help yourself. Eyes up here fag."
"I-I-Can I suck you off?" It catches both of us off guard. He examines my face for a moment and then laughs.
"Oh you thought this was for you." He jiggles his cock in his hand. "Nah, that's not how this is going." He grabs my shirt, and adjusts my position on the couch where my head is positioned in between the crack of the cushions. He turns around and his boxer clad ass is positioned over my face. He drops his ass hard and slams me into the sofa.
I'm stuck in the sofa, and Brandon's ass is covering my face. Immediately I can smell how musky Brandon is today and my face is already starting to feel damp.
PFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT
Oh no, not this again. Warm air hits my face and the smell hits like a freight train at this distance. I cough and strain against the cuffs on my hands, but I can't move. I scream help hoping anyone can hear me, but I know it's useless from Brandon's laugh. "Oh shut up."
PBRBBRFTTT PBRBRBFFFFFFT
A whine escapes from me as the new farts hit my nose. The smell is like sewage and there's no escaping. "Oh god someone help!" I yell, but it only gets drowned out from Brandon slamming his ass down on my face again.
"I said shut up." He drops again and I'm feeling slightly concussed. "I want to hear you sniffing this one."
"No!" I whine.
"Sniff or I'm shoving a baton up your ass." I reluctantly take a large inhale.
A sigh of relief leaves Brandon as I'm forced to inhale the full brunt of the noxious fumes. Everything starts to feel distant as more sewage is inhaled to my lungs. Fuck things are really starting to spin.
"Good boy." He briefly stands up and gives my head a pat and I can't help but lean into the pat. "Alright, that's enough." He slams his ass back down. "Get back to sniffing." I whine in protest. "Sniff now." Again, I begin to inhale.
PFFFFFFFFBBRBRRRFFFFFFBRBRBRFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT
"Ah fuck." Brandon sighs as I gag down the gas. "Yeah fucking smell that shit." He grinds his ass down against my face. "I bet you're lovin' this shit fag." I whine, but he just lifts up and slams down again. "Yeah you like it when my fat ass destroys your face."
PFFFFFFFFBBFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT
He times this slam with the fart. In that moment, tears start to fall down my face. It's all too much, I'm having a hard time keeping a coherent thought.
"Open your mouth." It's like I became sober in an instant. Immediately I lock my lips so that they can't be forced open. When Brandon checks me and sees that I'm refusing. "If you open your mouth, my dick can get in easier." I know my eyes widened just as much as my mouth did. He laughed so hard before slamming his ass back down over my mouth. "Sike!"
With no time to react, I swallow down the disgusting, long fart and make a horrified noise. Brandon's whole body is shaking as he's laughing. "I can't believe you fell for that." He keeps farting as he laughs and I keep just swallowing down the disgusting butt bombs. My mouth is overwhelmed by the taste of ass and my brain is having a hard time processing any of this.
"Please stop." I try to get out, but Brandon's farting is louder than I can manage. I gag against his warm ass. "Mercy."
"Fuck. I knew when I made that shake this morning it was going to hit hard, but not this hard." Brandon wiggles his ass again on my face. "Alright, I got shit to do, lets get to the finale." He gets off of me fully and turns around. He makes eye contact as I watch his hand slide under his waistband and pulls his boxers off. His cock is fully erect and standing straight. He leans down, right hand on his cock and slaps my face over and over again with his cock as he laughs. "This is what you want right? My slab of man meat." He strokes himself over and over as all I can do is watch.
"Please?" I say despite the state of myself.
"Pathetic." He starts to lower his cock towards my mouth. "Even after getting acquainted with my ass, you still want to suck me off. What makes you think you deserve my cock?"
"Please, I'll make you feel so good." I say, not really hearing myself. "I deserve it, I've been a good boy."
He runs a hand through my hair and begins to put his cock in my mouth. "I guess you have." He moves his cock head along my lips. "You did just take all that man gas." He pretends to think and I take the moment to close my lips around his cock head. "Ah-ah-ah" He pulls his cock away. "I didn't say you could do that." From the small taste I got, I knew I needed that cock in my mouth.
Instead though, I got Brandon's naked ass slammed down onto my face with my mouth wide open.
My body jolts as the taste is even worse than when he had boxers on. He lifts up and I watch as his hairy hole leaves my face. I feel utterly broken and disgusting as his I watch his hole wink and let out more gas above my face.
"Bet that tasted nice, didn't it fag. You like it when a man takes what's his?"
"You're disgusting." I spit on the ground, partially to get the awful taste off my tongue.
"Ah, you're so sweet." He kneels above me and starts stroking his cock again. "I guess you can have a treat." As he going, I can't help flexing my own cock against my khakis. He moans lightly and continues to fart, thankfully not directly on my face this time. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hope you're ready, cause once I start shooting that's all you're getting." I willingly open my mouth again, against my better judgement. This time though, he does start to shoot his load. Barely any makes it into my mouth and instead I can feel him drenching my hair and my face with his cum. By the eighth shot, he's actually aiming for my mouth and I'm flooded with the taste of his salty semen.
Fuck it was delicious.
"Get the fuck out my office." I didn't even realize but he's already pulling his boxers back on.
I go to stand up and that's when I remember I still have hand cuffs on. "Um. Can-"
"I said get the fuck out." The face he gave me told me everything I needed to know. I got out of the office and realized, I have no where to go. Cum on my face and hair, and hand cuffs in the middle of the police department.
I rush into the bathroom, closing the door with my foot and try to come up with a plan. It's ruined when Brandon literally walks into the bathroom. "Dude, get me out of these cuffs."
He gives me a once over before locking the door and going over to the urinal. "Yeah, in a second." He pulls out his sizeable cock, not fully erect this time and starts taking a piss. "Fuck that's nice." He rips ass of course, making me jolt. He catches me, "Heh, yeah my ass has that effect."
"Fuck you." There wasn't heat behind it.
"I don't know. I think you liked it. Liked sniffing my ass like a dirty fag." He flushes the urinal and grabs and turns me around. He bends me over and humps my ass. "I bet this is what you really wanted. My fat cock pushing into your pussy."
"Dude, stop. Get me out of these cuffs." The weight of his bulge pressing against my ass was making my cock start to harden again.
"Fine." He pushes me against the wall. Bulge pressed against my ass the whole time as he unlocks my cuffs. "But don't pretend you didn't like it."
"I didn't."
"We'll see." He burps in my face and takes a finger, swipes it in cum, and pushes it into my mouth. I moan, against my will which gives him that evil grin. He leaves me, without washing his hands, disgusting.
I stand and stare at myself in the mirror. There is still a metric shit ton of cum covering my face. I can't stop myself as I start to swipe some of the cum and ingest it. Fuck it's so good. I mean, it tastes like cum, but fuck, against the backdrop of Brandon's ass, it's the best taste in the world. Another swipe and another, like a frenzied animal, I keep eating the cum.
When I agreed to be my little brothers car seat I didn’t know it was permanently. At first I hated the smell off being under my brothers ass because of his poor hygiene and protein farts but now I look forwards to the sight of his big musty ass sitting on my face. He uses me all week to drive to school and work hang with friends then him and my dad use me on the weekends my brother enjoys my dad ripping farts into me as my brother told my dad I moved away he has no idea I was under his hole sniffing his skid marked briefs and gas love this life
