You had just spent the day watching, waiting as your sisters boyfriend had fueled up on protein shakes, eggs, and fibre bars. He had caught you eating his specially ordered chocolate cake a few nights ago, just smirking as he let you devour it bit by bit. Afterwards he just said that there would plenty more cake to taste in time.
Fast forward to now. You are on your knees in the bathroom, watching him text on his phone. The stench coming from his hairy ass turning your stomach and making your eyes water already. "Okay boy, time for a very important lesson! I've text your sister to let her know we are having a little gaming night tonight, so she is staying at a friends place. You may be an adult by age, but clearly you don't know how to act like one, stealing another man's food. So here you are!" He slaps his ass, the cheeks jiggling in the jockstrap as the sharp sound echoed in the small tiled room. "All the cake you could possibly need! Face in, tongue out, and get to eating! The longer you take, the more you will get gassed, and best believe I already feel the rumbles! He snaps his fingers and goes on call to his friends as the evening of ass eating begins.
My mom remarried just before I became a senior in high school so even though I wasn't happy about their divorce or the idea of a “new dad ", I also felt that, fuck, I'm 18 so I don't have to care about him or even pretend like he's an authority. I guess I was being rude at first because the more I got to know my mom's boyfriend Darren, then “my fiance, Darren” then “my new husband” and “your stepdad”, he seemed like a pretty decent guy. He towered over us and was bulking and stocky from years of construction for his main gig of flipping cheap houses around the city. Most men towered over me; scrawny, long brown hair, glasses, dorky and quiet. Darren had a hearty laugh and a warm face and a fun sense of humor, the one thing I'll add is that his humor often got immature. He would make comments about his heavy sweating and stink after a long day of work, or joke about how gassy foods would make him, from burping very loud after dinner if Mom wasn't around, or looking at a Mexican restaurant menu on his phone and showing it to me saying, “you know this is just going to be fuel for my Fart Factory later.”
Every comment about his gas made me tense up before laughing. No one knew about my fart fetish, or the disgusting fantasies I’ve had for men like Darren to use his large butt to dominate me and smother me and force me to smell his farts. And I’d love every second of it. But of course these were all just masturbation fantasies, so I always forgot to react naturally with an immature laugh whenever Darren would tease me.
It started off pretty light, those jokes about his Fart Factory or how the gas bill was going to go up this month… and when Mom was around he had no problem lifting a leg and letting it rip trying to make it echo through the house. I'd always laugh with him if I could hear it to show him that I approved, and then I would spend the next couple hours thinking about the sound and wishing I could have smelt it or at least have recorded it.
Whenever mom was out and it was just the two of us, he got a little more personal with his jokes. I'd be watching TV and suddenly I would hear and maybe even feel hot air farting over the back of my head. He loved sneaking his butt up against the back of the headrest and farting into my hair like that because it always made me jump. I laughed as the stink clouded over me and it made me start to cough. It was nasty from the three egg omelets he always made for breakfast for himself. And I secretly quietly took sniffs as he left at my face and said something like "there's more of that came from”.
Or I'd be in my room on my laptop and he'd walk by my open door and pause to fart just so I could hear it. more often than not he would stick his butt into the room and let rip and then giggle like a child as he rushed away. He had no idea that he was driving me crazy seeing his ass in gray sweatpants going commando (“I always let my boys go free” he told me while scratching his balls through the sweatpants)
And then it got more severe as our time together grew longer and longer, because it was the summer before my senior year where I hadn't got an internship or job or anything and wasn't sure what to do because I needed to have summer money. So my mom suggested that I go work with Darren and he'd pay me under the table (more than minimum wage). So I thought, shit, ok.
Well, going with him to help him flip houses and I guess learn some of the trade, all meant that I would have to spend hours with him in the early morning traffic going out to our workplace, and that meant about an hour and a half of his non-stop morning farts filling the car. After every third or fifth fart he’d have to open the window, laughing at how bad the stink was as his gas collected. I laughed too, and begged him to stop or control himself, but he and I both knew that wasn't going to happen. I was most terrified that he would notice my pitched tent poking up my jeans. I was embarrassed at the idea of being so turned on by my new stepdad, let alone because his non-stop gas…
And I didn't have to rely on memory of the morning car parts alone, because when we were working in the house, he would often bring his ass close to me when I was in a confined space and let rip. I'd look up and see your feet away his large butt stretching against his denim while the sound of his fart ripping tore through and hit my ears. and I would always laugh and my heart would pound because I knew that his disgusting cloud was going to fall over me any moment
Over that summer, he didn't mind getting closer and closer. We'd be walking upstairs with me behind him and he'd stop and let rip right in my face, which always shocked me and made my heart jump with excitement as I forced myself to laugh off the latest gas blast. Following him up the stairs I had to breath in his butt funk, which made my knees week. It was rank with eggs, beans, his typical breakfast burrito order.
And once as I was bent on my hands and knees to set up the paint roller, I felt him press up against my left shoulder slowly, and I turned to see his massive backside eating my entire shoulder and sinking against me and warming up my left arm
“Don't want to scare you, but this is going to be a big one and I want it to vibrate for you”
And before I could even react to such a hot statement, I felt his butt slowly purr out a deep bassy fart into my shoulder and it kept going for a while, and I held my breath and didn't say anything as I tried to discreetly sniff the rancid air that was filling this corner of the room.
It lasted maybe 15 seconds but from down there it may as well have been 5 minutes straight. He didn't laugh at first, and I realized that we were in an awkward moment of silence, so I let out a little laugh, which helped him slowly build up to his normal chuckle. He knew that he'd crossed a line, but because I laughed along it was okay, and that meant that I could expect more vibrations against my body.
He didn't have too many farts on our way back home that night, but when I got into bed I couldn't stop touching myself at the memory of feeling his ass press up against me like that…
Then maybe a week later, after more instances of him using my back when I was crouched on the ground, feeling the vibrations in my shoulder blades… or times when he’d say “Hey can you give me a hand?” and held his out so when I reached to return the shake, he’d pull my hand up against the seat of his pants and rip a gnarly one against my palm…or the times I’d be on the ground again and I’d feel him fart into my hair or some other exposed part of me (“You’re the perfect Gas Muffler!)... After a full week of fart humor, we had a Fourth of July party where he drank a lot of beer and promised to sleep-in most of the next day.
Mom was out, and I found him lying on the guest bed wearing something that shocked me. It was a pair of dark Navy briefs but the seat of them had been ripped and a large hole exposed the lower half of my step dad's hairy thick ass. He bent his knee up a bit in his sleep so I could peer into his crack and get a glimpse of his hole buried in thick hair.
I thought I was going to faint. I quickly took my phone out and snapped a picture knowing that I was going to use it over and over again in the next few weeks. I had no idea of course how right I was going to be
“Admiring the fart window, huh”
“I-,” I blurted out before shutting up. And then I forgot… How stupid of me… part of the bed’s design included a mirror along the headboard, and since he was sleeping on his stomach he could see me through the mirror, eagerly taking a photo of his naked ass the second I could.
“Yep I thought the fabric kept getting in the way so I cut it up to let my farts go free,” he stuck his finger up into his ass crack to give it a good long scratch. I watched him bring the finger up to his nose and he sucked it down, “Mhm, pretty rank.”
He laughed and looked up at me through the mirror. I didn't know what to do or say, and I froze up as if I were still a kid feeling guilty about being caught doing something bad.
Then he pushed out a loud fart that made me jolt.
PPRTPRTPRPTRPTPP
“Well what do you think he asked how did you rate that Ripper?” he asked after laughing at his own butt.
“... a 9 out of 10”
“What? Why not 10?”
“...cuz I didn't get a chance to smell it, so you know the sounds and length were pretty good but-,” I tried to sound like I was joking.
The pause made me feel sick. I shouldn’t have said that. But he broke the silence and said “won't get your nose in it right now and give me the right rating”
I hesitated at first, but I leaned in and sniffed the air closer toward his butt, my heart pounding and my dick raising because the stink was bad. Reeking from hot dogs and beer…
“okay 10 out of 10, that’s bad,”
“I think I got another lined up…” he scratched his hairy cheek, pulling back and flashing me more of his crack in the process.
“Can I-,” I blurred it out before I could stop myself, “can I stick my nose into the fart window?”
A long pause which made me feel like I shouldn't have asked that, but I saw a smile grew and he started to laugh and say “it’s your funeral.”
So I got down onto the bed and locked eyes with his ass crack as I slowly brought myself forward into the heat of the leftover fart vapors spewed around. His legs were warm and hairy and soft, and as I got closer to the fart window of his underwear, I thought I was going to come. So close his ass smelled rank, holding in all of yesterday’s sweat and grime, being churned up by revolting ass blasts. My heart was pounding in my ears and I stared at his ass afraid of what was about to happen.
He said “didn't you want your nose in?” and he reached his hand back and pulled at one of his large cheeks, flashing me is deep brown asshole in the middle of a nest of black ass crack hair
“It stinks really bad,”
He laughed at me, “Just like it should, now get in there I’m about to burst,”
I thought I was going to pass out, this felt like a bizarre dream that I’d wake up from any second now and be disappointed that it was all fake. I thought there was nothing real about this except using the memory of this vivid dream to jerk off to. But it was real, and the stink was making my nose burn.
That didn't stop me and I sunk my face into his sweaty hairy ass crack and pressed my nose up into his gross asshole.
“I'm going to make this vibrate for you okay,” he grabbed the back of my head and before I could react
RPTRPTRPTPRTPRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP
He let out his immature childish bullying laugh while his hands clawed into my hair to force my nose deeper up his disgusting fart hole. I gagged and sputtered in the rancid stink and my hands came up to try and pull out his wrist, but then I dropped them and instead pulled it his cheeks to get in some fresh air I had to take deep sniffs through my nose because my mouth was getting stuffed with his gooch chair. I moaned into it as I took deep sniffs of less concentrated fart. I thought my eyes were rolling back into my skull because I had already begun to cum. I clawed and squeezed his cheeks and smothered my face into his dank stink trench while hot cum shot through my underwear. I couldn't believe I did something so disgusting, and I closed my eyes and nuzzled my nose into his butthole, taking slower breaths.
“I knew you're a little pig boy” he said, “I knew you loved my farts. I want you to keep sampling my brew every day from now on. Up close and personal, since you’re the only other one who’d appreciate it as much as me. Do you like the sound of that? Little Pigboy?”
I moaned into his butt cheeks and my hands slowly rubbed his skin. There is no point in lying, I didn't want my nose to leave his putrid fart hole.
And so the rest of the summer he had a lot of fun finding different ways to get my nose into his butthole. We'd stop for a quick breakfast at McDonald's and after he gobbled down his McMuffin and hash browns, he'd urge me to go to the bathroom with him so he could unload a bit of morning gas.
He leaned against the sink and pushed out his big jeans coated butt out, waiting for me to either bend over to get near him from the back or from the side. I often like to go from the side because it was easier to get my face deep in there and soak in the brunt of this morning gas.
“Ugh this is fucking sick,” I pulled away because his ass was too ripe.
“C’mon piggy, I know you’re hungry.”
This felt filthy. But I couldn’t stop smiling and dove back in for more. I love his stink.
And if we were sitting in traffic, and he felt like he had a big one to rip, he'd spread his legs a little bit and tell me to get right up into the seat. I’d make sure no one was looking and then I'd dip down and shove my face into his crotch get my nose between is jeans and the seat fabric, getting ready to suck up another rancid fart the heat of the air made me gag deep into the pleather, but he didn't have to worry about the steering wheel so he used his hands to hold my head down and force me to suck in very very slowly.
And at the house, just the two of us, every single time he had to rip he would call out “Oh Sniffie!” and I would have to drop what I was doing and sprint over to him and get my nose up his hole as fast as possible. He'd always be in a position with his knees bent and his ass sticking out so that I could die of and slide on my knees to slam my face into his butt and get bombarded with long and loud gas blast that vibrated my nose and shook my head
If we were taking a break and drinking water or a beer in the living room, he'd have me lay on top of a sleeping bag and pillow on the ground so that he could crouch over and use my face as his seat while he drank his beer. Even if he didn't have gas, I got to enjoy just relaxing time with my face smothered by his cheeks and sniffing the hot denim fabric for his sweat. But of course he usually did have gas, and so he would slowly fill my lungs with awful silent and deadly farts. In the privacy of a sleeping bag I would rub one out and I'd hear him chuckle as he'd watch the bag go up and down.
His favorite thing to do would be to have his ass say good night. That is right as he was going to go to bed he would come into my room, without knocking, and rush over to grab the back of my head and shove my nose into his boxers, or more often, into the open fart window underwear, and destroy my lungs with another noxious blast to say good night and he would grind my face in his crack and wiggle his hips around with a loud cartoonish kissing sounds.
In the morning, if we had to leave early, he made sure that the first thing I saw was his bare asshole and right as I'd open my eyes and see the large naked ass in front of me, it would let out the loud fart that would shake up my ears and make me start to gag on his rancid air.
“Morning sniffy, gotta get dressed,”
And I’d pull myself up and kisses naked ass , “good morning… is today going to stink?”
“it's going to fucking reek.”
After he stepped out, I quickly masturbated in excitement knowing that my nose was going to be overwhelmed today because he told me he wanted to get a chorizo and egg sandwich and beans for breakfast from the Mexican place near the house. I quickly came and then got dressed for another long, stinking day of work.
Boyfriend who lets out wall-peeling farts in bed. Boyfriend who always eats a healthy portion of dinner, laying down, full and comfortable as him stomach works through the food. Boyfriend who shifts lightly to fart, loud and clear, letting out sighs or groans of pleasure after each relieving release of gas. Farts that raise the humidity and temperature of the whole room, ripped right in your bed, under the covers where they will linger. His satisfied smile after each burst of gas, because farting is one of the most pleasurable and natural things a man can do. He's enjoying himself and you're not going to ruin the mood with your bitching. So you smile sweetly at him, no matter how bad the stench assulting your nose gets. You have zero right to act out or complain, you're going to be a sweet and agreeable girlfriend as you always are. You're glad he's making himself comfortable.
Boyfriend who pushes your head under the covers. Boyfriend who overpowers you, no matter how much you struggle and traps you sealed tight under the blanket as he farts. Boyfriend who likes forcing you to smell it, who presses his ass aganist your face and farts, boyfriend who laughs at your struggles and gags and tears.
It's just a prank. Plenty of boyfriends do it to their girlfriends. It's really funny. You'll eat his farts if you really love him. It's perfectly normal that he does this to you and he really likes doing this to you. You should get used to it. He's not gonna stop, it's way too entertaining. He loves seeing your reaction.
You paused, fork almost to your mouth, as your ears were assaulted by the horrific sound of your flatmate Wilson in the bathroom. You wished that he would warn you before he needed to use the throne, cause then you'd have been able to escape before it was too late. You probably would've left now, if you weren't in the middle of eating.
BBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!
You couldn't help but physically cringe from the booming flatulent noises ringing from the bathroom, that were unfortunately magnified by the porcelain toilet and the tiny cramped apartment. The rent in this place was so cheap, it was all you could afford, even if it meant the kitchen and bathroom were all stuffed into basically the same area, with only a door and thin walls separating the 2.
It was impossible not to gag at least a little as you heard yet another fart followed by a ringing splash. You'd think you'd be somewhat used to it by now, but somehow it always seemed to repulse you. It was always made worse by his loud, shameless grunting, not to mention the often childish, school boy laughter afterwards as well. He was just so damn proud of his toilet wrecking habits, for whatever reason.
Every time you tried desperately to take at least one mouthful, you were interrupted by a vibrating fart, a plopping sound of a rock landing in a pool, and/or a shameless groan/giggle putting you off your apatite for a bit. It probably would've been put right off altogether, if you hadn't heard this so many times before. You just wanted to have some food, then you could evacuate the place.
Finally, after what felt like at least an hour, you heard the toilet flushing, which should've made you relieved, but couldn't because it meant you knew what was coming next. The door then opened, and you were hit with the stink of Wilson's bathroom bomb. He strode out the door looking satisfied with himself. He was wearing absolutely nothing, except for his classic white boxers. You weren't going to demand him to put something on, as he was almost twice your size in terms of muscle and near height.
"Phew, God damn man, you don't wanna go in there for a while. I know how weak your nose can be, and I bet you'd probably get knocked out. So, I'd probably give that a day or so, maybe. Sheesh, That's what a good protein meal and gym sesh will do to you, just goes right through me. I mean... did you hear me in there? I felt like I dropped over a pound, hahaha." Wilson snickered, proud of his 'achievement'. He never showed an ounce of shame, and it only disgusted you all the more. You didn't know what would put you off your food quicker, the sounds, the stench or his detailed descriptions of the aftermath. It had become such a nightmare that you'd now always resorted to using the ones in the bar next door to your flats, after yours would become uninhabitable, after Wilson was done with it. They didn't smell too great either, but you'd take them any day over what was waiting for you back home.
"Seriously man, I would say that was a record breaker of a dump, but I don't think that was even my biggest one this week. And I thought I was gonna bust the plumbing, hahaha." He let out another disgusting laugh, as you cringed again. You'd lost count of the amount of times you'd had to call the plumber to deal with his 'clogging'. You practically had the same regular guy visiting every other week at this point. Apparently Wilson got along with him quite well and he'd even congratulate him as he 'didn't often see a guy with such skill'. Sometimes you felt like the only sane person around him.
"Anyway, outta the way man. I need to get some food in me, gotta keep my build up, you know." He barged past you, over to the fridge. "I need some more protein, cause I'm planning on going to the gym again later-, wait a minute." He paused before snickering.
"Hey bro, pull my finger." He presented his index finger to you. You groaned, as if he the current stench in the air wasn't pungent enough. Wilson didn't even give you enough time to respond, as he simply shrugged at your disgust, and pulled it himself, cocking his leg a bit.
FFFFFFFFRRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTT!
The room reverberated with the sound of his post dump flatulence, no longer blocked off by the thin wall (not that that usually did any good anyway). The stink of his eggy fart was now making things a bit too much, that you almost dropped your fork. Wilson just let out chuckle, as your suffering on his 'products' was always amusing to him, as he bent over to root around for some food in the fridge.
As you finished gagging, you turned around to see his back to you, which was an immediate mistake. His ass was now pointed directly at you as he bent down into the fridge, whether that was intentional of or not. On top of that, there was an obvious brown skid mark down the centre of the crack area. Wilson paid no obvious notice to your disgust, but you swore you could sense him smirking at your expense of his repulsive personality.
Finally, after a few more moments of gagging from your end, Wilson slammed the fridge door and turned to look you, with a face of mock dissapointment.
"Well, what do you know dude? Seems like we're out of good food." You knew he was lying, there was at least a enough left for him to slap a small meal together. But that's when you realised what you were eating. A nice salad, with a creamy, eggy dressing. That was the last thing you wanted to give to him, as it would absolutely turn him into even more of a stinky, nuclear bomb. You looked back up at Wilson, who was now staring down at you with a shit eating grin. You had a horrible idea what he was about to do.
"Hey dude, think you mind giving me that? I need something with some good protien for later. Be a pal, and give me that salad, would ya?" His grin was certainly intimidating, but you felt like holding down. You didn't fancy anything else in the fridge, and you were already a little behind on rent, so you couldn't really buy any other food. Wilson obviously noticed your hesitance, so he decided to press on further, in the worst possible way.
"Cmon bro, you're my buddy ain't ya?" He then proceeded to grab you round the head and embrace you in a rough, near chokehold like 'hug' with rubbing your head. Your face was now directly next to his musky, sweaty armpit, which reeked almost as much as his recent fart. It was difficult to breath without taking any of it in.
Honestly, you only lived with him cause it was the cheapest rent you could afford, although you considered living on the street as opposed to with him. Wilson only had you around because he loved having someone to pick on, as well as have control over, in his own "special way". He was starting to suffocate you a little before finally letting go. Realistically, that should've cracked you, yet a part of you still felt like standing up for yourself. When Wilson noticed, he continued to smirk, your suffering had always been a mere game to him.
"Seriously man, you know I need it more than you. After all I gotta keep this bod in shape." He then flexed his muscles, making you roll your eyes. However, he then turned around, facing his large, white boxer cladded ass directly at you. "Particularly, my ass man. It's my main meat, you know? Makes all the girls swoon and the guys cheer, don't you agree?" He swung his cheeks tauntingly from side to side. Whilst this may have been true, all you could focus on was that disgusting skid mark, along with the strong pong radiating off it. You didn't think this could get worse, but you should've known better by now.
BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTT!
"Oh yeah, get a whiff of that dude!" Wilson sighed in triumph, as he began to gleefully waft the scent of his pungent blast towards you. You couldn't help but audibly cough as Wilson stared back at you, almost maniacally. "That's another thing, my awesome farts. The guys don't call me Windy Wilson for nothing, and that salad will give me just the fuel I need. My gas is just part of my charm. You wouldn't want me to loose my signature gassy stink... would you?" There was a playfully threating tone to his voice now, one that built up a sense of fear, even more than usual. Obviously, you wanted nothing more, it would certainly make everyday more 'breathable' so to speak.
"W-well, I mean, I do need-" You tried to utter some kind of comprehensible comeback, but the combined miasma coming from him, along with the bathroom, was overwhelming your brain. Wilson simply tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"It seems I'm not getting through to you. Here." And then, to your up most horror, he began to pull down his boxers, exposing his naked, musky, slightly hairy ass. As he did so, you were instantly hit with a new wave of 'aroma' that proved to you that he definitely hadn't wiped his ass properly, after dropping such a bomb. Before you could even think of escaping, he grabbed you by the head and began to almost shove your face into his smelly, bare, unwashed ass. It was pure hell.
BBBBBBBBBBLLLLLOOOOOOORRRRRRTTT!
"Ahhhh, smell that? That's the stink of a true man. And if I'm going to keep it, I need some good protein food." You were struggling to escape the rotten fumes as they shot directly up your nose. You wouldn't be shocked if he singed off your nose hairs. "Now, I'll ask you politely one more time, cause you wouldn't like me when I'm angry, and believe me, I can do this all day." You then heard his stomach rumble ominously, making you whimper in terror. "But looking at you now, I think the message is getting through. Now, give-"
PPAAAARRRRRPPPP!
"Me-"
RRRRRAAAAPPPPPPPPPRTTTTTTTT!
"That-"
BBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLAAAAAARRRTTTTTTT!
"-Salad"
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRTT!
"-Please!"
You swore you would've been blasted across the room from the sheer force of his gas, if he weren't holding your head in place. The accompanying eggy, shitty stink of was so strong that you honestly felt like you were going to vomit. He'd never tormented you quite like this before.
Eventually, his butt finally came to a stop with a loud quack and let go of your head. You fell back onto the floor out of the chair, limp. You couldn't think of anything to say, being on the verge of passing out. Wilson simply pulled up his boxers, satisfied with your demise. He plopped himself onto the chair and picked up the fork.
"Thanks bro, knew you'd come through for me. Why don't you go get your own food somewhere else, I'm sure you can find something." He snickered at you, as you got up feeling dizzy, ears almost ringing from the blasts. "Also, you may wanna go somewhere else if you need to use the bathroom at all, cause that's not gonna be the only dump I take today, hahaha. Also, I've got some bros coming over for a party tomorrow and we're gonna need a judge for our annual fart contest. Appreciate it if you could help us out man, thanks." Wilson smirked at you, as you hurried past the biohazard that was 'his' bathroom and out the door, gulping as you heard him let out one last vibrating gas explosion onto the chair, complete with a another satisfied sigh.
As you walked down the stairs, into the sweet beloved fresh air, you honestly considered that perhaps living on the dirty streets might not be so bad after all.
masc frat hazing ritual that involves being their fart huffer after a night out drinking, bellies full of gurgling fermentation. upon their arrival back from the bars, stumbling and teetering and laughing, they corral you into the basement of the frat house where you take turns nuzzling your nose into crack after sweaty crack, sniffing up any and everything they have to give you.
with your snout nudged up against a cargo pants seam, the first brother to take to you lets out a potent, rumbling fart, heavy and ripe in your nostrils and vibrating against your face. the other brothers giggle in their drunkenness, little gasps and "oooh, wow,"s and "jeez,"s in response to your predicament, playing it up by fanning the smell away. she reaches back and grabs your hair, rocking your face side-to-side in between her hefty cheeks, letting a few more brassy, heady rips purr into your face, the smell taking hold in your pores. you take deep breaths through your nose, sighing on the exhale, letting the stench sop into your olfactory nerve and the bubbly sounds bounce around in your brain.
you're passed around indiscriminately, the torment seemingly nonstop, soft mockeries persistently thrown your way. you go without coercion, letting strong hands ease your head where they wanted it. "that's it, sniff it all up," someone urges into your ear with your face smushed into another brother's briefs, her jeans around her knees. her boxers are damp and swampy, the earthy musk emanating from them seasoning every burbling fart that heats your face, humid and poignant and tantalizing. while the brothers were drunk off busch apple, you grew lightheaded and woozy with your own gas-induced intoxication.
two brothers sit you in the corner, one having forgone her pants, the remaining boyshorts riding into her ass, the other with their jeans pulled a quarter down their cheeks, a few inches of musky crack visible above the waistband. they sandwich your face in between four plush globes of ass, their raunchy farts sputtering against your head, pungent and smoggy and fully encapsulating your senses. you can't help but moan audibly now with the olfactory input doubled, hot, bubbling beer farts fumigating the last of your fresh air.
with arousal getting the better of you, you turn your head towards the visible upper crack in your face, opening your mouth and letting your tongue dip just inside the doughy cleavage, feeling the pliant flesh mold to the muscle, little wisps of body hair tickling your lips. the strength of their next rip sends vibrations through their fat, cushiony cheeks and over your prodding tongue, making your eyes flutter back and your mouth water so expeditiously as the syrupy reek settles on your tastebuds that a dollop of saliva drips down your chin.
"damn," they muse above you, looking over their shoulder upon feeling your bold oral exploration. "you like sniffing our nasty farts that much? freak."
"hey, be nice to the pledges," the second brother objects. "you don't want them to... tap out, do you?" with that, she forces your face (and tongue) out of their ass and back to hers, letting a particularly bubbling and explosive fart warble into your nose and against your mouth, sticky and ripe and so hot. the other brother smirks and adds onto the revolting offense by pushing out another repugnant, burbling fart, the scents mingling in a dense, poignant concoction and the cacophony of loud, bubbly sounds going straight to your crotch. you huff like your life depends on it, the thick, muggy warmth filling your lungs.
you don't know how many hours into the hazing it was when a delivery driver deposits mexican on the house's porch, or when a brother brings it down into the basement. "fuel," they tell you from your spot on your knees, a thoroughly farted-through pair of boxers discarded over your face. "so you won't have to worry about us running out anytime soon."
now full of greasy fast food and refried beans and lingering beer bloat, their farts are somehow worse, and more frequent. you just close your eyes, moaning and nearly drooling, crotch on fire as you helplessly accept the onslaught, rancid, intense, steamy ass blasting you from all angles, seeping into the sulci of your brain, making you dumb. your face is squished in between someone's asscrack, then sandwiched again between two, then three, then four. your face is sat on, surrounded, and smothered in drunk, meat-sweating asses, farts dripping out of them in deep, burbling wafts, hammering against your skull and drilling your nose. you were positive this would cling to you for days.
sunrise was approaching by the time they ease up. you were a panting, wet mess, sweating and soaking in a pool of your own arousal. "getting tired? yeah, us too." one brother pets a hand over your hair, both condescending and comforting. taking this as a cue the night was over, you stand and begin to leave, but you're caught by the arms on both sides. "what do you think you're doing? you're sleeping here. under the covers of whoever wants you most. a little dutch oven never hurt anyone, did it?"
you had a feeling this "little" dutch oven would be more of a violently noxious one, so you nod eagerly and let yourself be led to a bedroom where you'll spend the next few hours huffing sleepy hangover gas in a blanketed sauna
When chatting online it was so easy to get excited. I told this man that if we met I wanted him to force me to worship his big fleshy ass - that I craved the scent of a ripe, musky asshole. And when he asked, "Do you want to sniff my farts?", I immediately agreed and told him that I wanted to take his farts right up my nostrils.
We agreed to meet right away but he added that he had worked construction all day and that he had eaten a big Mexican meal with lots of beans and cheese. "My ass is ripe and my farts are going to be moist and smelly!" I told him that is exactly how I wanted him and he warned me, "Better make sure this is what you want because once I lock your head into my 'fart box', you'll be sniffing my ass all evening.
I was excited but at the same time scared. And when he first sat on my face, the smell of his ass was heavenly - I loved it. But once he started farting it was another matter - the smell was so strong that I thought I might throw up. My body shook and I tried to tell him that I had changed my mind but he just laughed and let rip an even bigger deeper sounding fart directly up my nostrils. "You asked for this pig and there's no turning back."
It was a very long session. Me sniffing farts as he watched tv all evening. And when he was ready for bed he finally got up and released me. He laughed and said again, "That's what you asked for pig!"
I felt disgusted with myself. How did I let this big fat man use my face like that? But on the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about his ass and the sound and smell of his farts... And as soon as I got home, I turned on my laptop and sent him a message asking, "Are you free tomorrow after work?"
This story includes a rough, commanding husband and his smaller, submissive husband.
Part One: The Promise
I was startled awake by pressure and warmth on my face. I opened my eyes to complete darkness, my face smushed beneath something large and soft yet firm. A roaring vibration caused me to jump, and as I breathed, my air turned poisonous, toxic, filled with the disgusting ghosts of food past consumed.
It was a fart, one that kept going, spoiling all of my air. The roaring hadn't shifted, retaining it's deep tone and pitch. The smell was beyond bad, turned horrific by combined lactose intolerance and protein powder. My eyes stung from the power of it, my smushed face growing ever warmer under the large ass.
The fart fizzled out, but the ass wasn't done. It moved around to really steep the smell into my face, a smell I had become all-too familiar with.
The ass left my face, and I took a deep breath. But the fart was too extreme. It had overtaken all the air in the area, again a usual occurrence. My husband Sal turned, inches from me. He knelt on the wood floor of our bedroom with a smile. "Hey. I was holding that in for an hour, just for you."
He wiggled his thick eyebrows. Though he was as gay as a unicorn, Sal was the manliest man of all men. He was overly tall and just as wide, with a tan body in a perfect spot between chubby and muscular, a full dark beard and a very hairy body. But the best part of him, the culprit of oxygen destruction, was his thick, wide ass. I always said it was like a shelf, jutting out from the base of his back.
I struggled to catch my breath, and he leaned in to kiss me. Sal got back onto the bed as he kissed me more, deeper. "I had a long fucking day. I need you."
He brought the blanket over us, all the way over our heads. I crawled down to his crotch to work him into a hardened position. I started sucking him, closing my eyes and waiting for the inevitable--
The fart blasted long and strong, causing a vibration in the mattress. I was trapped with the smell but continued. Sal took a big sniff. "Oh, yeah! You smell that, babe?"
"Mm-hmm," I said while still sucking. I finished him off and tried to crawl back up, but he forced me down by my shoulders.
"You know you're not done yet," Sal taunted.
I groaned. "Do I have to smell your farts every time? One is bad enou--"
All at once, he rolled and closed his huge legs around my head, pulling it towards his ass. "Hey, you promised when we got married--"
A booming blast lit up my world, forceful enough for me to feel the air. The smell was literally breathtaking from the start, as if it had been gestating in some hot place. Like all of Sal's farts, it rumbled on for a few long seconds. When it stopped, Sal humped the bed. "Smell it."
I had made a promise, that I'd indulge his obsession with farting on people. So I sniffed, eyes burning and stomach turning.
Sal moaned and started humping the bed more. He stopped and got out of bed, stretching. "Hey, don't let 'em go to waste!"
I almost sighed but held it in. I got on top of the covers, lying on my belly and pointing my face right behind his mammoth ass. He squeezed out six huge booms in succession, petting my head as I sniffed them. It wasn't as bad outside the covers.
I pulled my head away. "Don't you have to go to work?"
Sal ignored the question. "Head back."
I knew what was coming but relented, flipping and rested my head on the edge of the bed, face up. Sal slowly and calmly lowered his fat booty onto my face, rubbing his crotch as he did so.
A fart shook my whole world once again, thankfully a shorter one. But Sal continued to sit there, leaving me exposed to the stink of it for longer than usual. He then got up.
I almost got up, too, but his ass suddenly fell again, sealing me in as Sal pushed out his biggest fart of the morning. It was like an earthquake against my face, and the smell was almost too bad. Sal had had worse farts, this one was close.
He kept pushing it out. My air was thick and ruined, and I thought I might be sick. It stopped right when I was starting to struggle.
"Shh! Shh!" Sal whispered, letting his deadly fart sink into my face. "Not done yet."
He pushed out a smaller blast. I struggled harder.
"Nope." Sal pushed his ass down further. I was hot and overwhelmed, almost choking.
Another small blast. I pushed at his thick legs to no avail.
Sal laughed darkly above me. "Almost. Hhn!"
He strained to push more out, bigger and longer than the last two. "There! Last one. Relax and enjoy it and we'll be done."
I stopped struggling, but my stomach wouldn't stop turning. My irritated eyes were fully crying, and his horrible air made my throat and nose burn.
He got up and turned, bending down to give me an upsidedown kiss. I flipped over, deepening the kiss and kneeling on the bed in his arms. Sal sniffed deep and beamed. "Wow. We stink."
"Yeah. That was truly deadly." But I kissed him again anyways.
Tags: Face Farting, Gay Face Farting, Somewhat willing Victim, Open Mouth Farting, Naked Mouth Fart, F Slur Usage, Eproctophilia, Gay Victim, Straight(ish) Farter, Dubious-Consent, Forced Ass Eating (Rimming), Musky Dom, Mean Dom
March 19 -
I'm in the middle of writing a script when Brandon drops by my office. I startle as he knocks his first against the door. "Morning." I manage.
"Morning." He saunters in. "I need the grey boxers back."
"Dude!" My eyes dart past him to see if anyone is around. "Close the door." He rolls his eyes but closes the door anyway.
"I need the grey boxers back." He says again. "Drop them off at my locker in the gym."
"The gym? Wait you guys have a gym?" He examines me for a moment, I'm not entirely sure why, but he eventually nods his head.
"How long have you been working here again?"
"Month and ten days." I say looking at the calendar on my computer
"Seems longer." He shrugs.
"Also, I'm keeping the boxers." This surprises Brandon based on the expression he gives me. "They still smell like your cock and if you're going to keep making me sniff your rank ass, then I deserve something." I turn my attention away from Brandon and back to my computer. I've never really been a brazen person, but I'm feeling confident today. "Now if you don't need anything, I have work I need to get to."
He narrows his eyes at me. "Your obsessed with me aren't you." This takes me aback and I have to give him my attention again.
"Obsessed seems a bit much." I narrow my eyes back at him. "However, if you want to go there, you seem a bit obsessed with me." That was the wrong thing to say. His whole body shifts and he looks angry.
"Know your place, faggot." He gives me a pointed look before opening my office door. "And I better have my underwear back tomorrow."
"We'll see."
March 20 -
I'm a pussy, everyone knows it, you don't have to remind me. I arrive to the Police Department, grey boxers in my messenger bag, and I navigate the basement trying to find the gym. It doesn't take long, it's behind a door I've never been through before. When I walk in, Officer Sullivan and Officer Hanford are using the equipment, but they don't pay attention to me as I walk through to the marked locker rooms.
I arrive at Brandon's marked locker and open it. Waiting for me, is the pair of cobalt blue boxers from our first interaction with a sticky note on it. "I'm not obsessed with you. But you're obsessed with me." This is clearly a test of whether or not I take the boxers. Right?
Look I can admit this game we're playing is kind of fucked. But I'm single and may be a little lonely. And sure, I'm into guys who are a bit of an asshole. All this to say is that I took the fucking boxers and put his grey ones back. Maybe I'm fucked?
I took an inhale of the blue boxers and fucking hell these were rank. Eye watering and dick straining rank. Like he hasn't washed these in a couple of days rank. Oh shit, has he been marinating these. For me? I took another inhale and I may have licked the crotch of his underwear.
There was a clearing of a throat behind me and I see Officer Hanford staring. "Did you just steal that from Sgt. Vanover's locker?"
"No! I mean, not steal, I-uh-um."
"And did you just lick them?" He asks, disgusted.
"No. Absolutely not!" I panic. "If you will excuse me." I say as I push past him. He doesn't stop me, but I feel him staring as I rush out of the locker room.
I go from the locker room, straight to Sgt. Vanover's office. Another officer is in there when I walk in. I don't know if it's the expression I'm wearing or what, but Brandon takes one look at me and looks at Officer whatever his name is and says "Justin, we're going to have to cut this short. I have a meeting with IT."
Officer Justin says something as he leaves and closes the door behind him.
"I fucked up." I immediately start pacing his office. "I fucked up." I say again.
"Alright, calm down and sit down." I park myself in the chair and start fidgeting. "What did you do?"
"I returned your underwear."
"Knew you would."
"Fucking shut up for a second!" I snap, shocking both of us. "I found the blue boxers and I may have been sniffing them-" Brandon laughs.
"Let me guess." He interjects before I can continue. "You got caught faggin' out on my boxers."
"I wouldn't call it that, but yes." There's that fucking shit-eating grin again. "I'm going to get fired! This is serious!"
"You're not going to get fired."
"But what about Officer Hanford, he's going to tell the other Officers."
"What, that you're a fag and you did fag things?"
"Dude! Take this seriously. This can affect you too, it was your underwear!"
"Nah, it won't." He says flippantly. "I work out every morning and my workout clothes stay in my locker. So it just looks like you, fagged out."
We sit there in silence for a long time. "Fuck you Brandon." I eventually say, taking his blue boxers out of my bag and throwing them at him. He catches them without a flinch.
"Are you done? You really are acting like a fag." I swear he's doing this just to piss me the fuck off. I give him the finger, and storm out of his office to head back to mine.
I sit in my office for most of the day contemplating everything I can do to try and make sure this doesn't get out. Eventually, the realization that I'll need to approach Officer Hanford about what he saw hits me. And it's not going to be an easy conversation. How do I even start it. Hey, so I know you think you saw me licking Bran-Sgt. Vanover's underwear, but that was not what happened.
It hits about 14:00ish when I walk over to the Police Department for shift change. Officer Hanford has already changed out of his uniform when I see him.
"Officer Hanford!" He turns his attention to me with curiosity.
"Yes?" He doesn't seem that interested.
"About this morning." I begin.
"Sarge already explained to us." This takes me aback
"Explained what?"
"That you have a crush on him and that you can't help yourself." My mouth drops. "You need to work on yourself, this is a work environment." I cringe at his words, but he's right at the core of it.
"Cool." I say totally not feeling cool. "Have a nice weekend." I say as I turn back and storm towards Brandon's office again. This time though he's not there so I can give him a piece of my mind. I grab a sticky note off his desk, write fuck you, and leave.
March 21 -
Saturday, my first day of rest after the hell of this week. It's not even 9:00 AM and I hear my doorbell ring and then pounding on the door. I stare at the ceiling as I hear another round of pounding. It has to be Brandon, he's the only person who shows up at my door unannounced. I wonder if he even has my phone number.
I get out of bed, still in my PJs and tank top, and open the door. Brandon is there of course, though he's in uniform this time. "You ever heard of calling?" I block the entryway of door so he can't get in.
"Why would I do that?" He pushes me aside as he walks inside. He doesn't wait for me to follow as he plops down on the couch. "Got plans?"
"Even if I did, would you let me get to them?" I cross my arms.
"Of course, I'm not an asshole."
"Man, you're like the biggest asshole." I say after closing my door.
"That's not true. I come over here and spoil you rotten." He man spreads on my couch and I sit in the chair across from him. It takes everything in my power not to look at his crotch, but I power on.
"Spoil me? You torture me for like an hour and poof you're gone. You don't even let me suck you off, and I know for a fact I'm good at head." Brandon half-laughs.
"Don't pretend you don't like this." He points to himself. "I've caught you staring, a million times. And you know what, you should stare." He stands up from my sofa and he starts to take his uniform off. His hand goes to his supply belt and he unclips it. "I'm a god among men. I know it, you know it." He pulls his shirt off and drops it to the floor. His undershirt is tightly hugging his muscular body. "Do yourself a favor and get with the fucking program. This isn't about you." He pulls his shirt off, letting me admire his shirtless body.
He saunters up to me, takes my right hand and puts it on his muscular torso. "I'm with the program." I have no fucking backbone. "I'm so with the program." I say again as I run my hand over his torso. I look up and he's giving me that fucking smirk that makes my heart skip a beat.
"Good boy." His hand runs through my hair. "Now how about you do yourself a favor and take those ugly pants off."
"Uhm." I look down at my Scooby-Doo PJs. "I don't have anything on underneath this."
"I don't really care." I nod and yank the PJs off with one hand almost falling over. "Eager faggot." I ignore him as I get down on my knees without him asking.
"Now what sir?" I ask as I look up to his towering form.
"Now's your punishment for your behavior this week." He gets his crotch extremely close to my face but doesn't actually touch. "You've been really annoying this week. I expect better from you faggot."
"I'm sorry sir." I don't even know why I say it, but I do. But submitting to him is making my dick stir so I keep listening.
"You will be. There will be no mercy today." I resign myself to my fate.
"I understand."
"Good." He turns around so that his clothed ass was in my face. "You're going to worship my ass. You're not going to complain that it's too much. You're going to love every minute of worshiping me. If you do all of that, I will let you eat my cum."
"Yes sir." I agree to the terms.
"Then what are you waiting for?" I stare at his ass through the uniform pants. I'm unsure what to do, so I go ahead and run my nose along his uniformed crack.
PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
A mostly silent fart, hits my nose and I inhale it without being asked. "Fuck, that one sucked. Hold on." He grabs the back of my head and pulls me against his ass as he pushes his ass against my face.
Again I inhale as he lets out the noisy bomb. The stench is his usual terrible eggy and rotten vegetable smell and the smell burns as it makes its way to my lungs. I whine, but not thinking that's enough of the worship that Brandon deserves, I run my tongue along his uniformed ass. "Well well well, who's the eager fag today?" I grunt in annoyance, but keep licking when Brandon secures his grip forcing me to stay in place. With my tongue out, he lets another monster rip.
I keep tonguing at his pants and eventually he lets go of his grip on me. I take the moment to catch my breath and admire Brandon's large ass. I've absolutely soaked the back end of his uniform pants with my saliva. Before Brandon makes another move, I place my face back against his ass. "Good boy, didn't even have to tell you."
"Sir, I need more." Who the fuck said that, because that couldn't have been me, could it?
Brandon snickers at me. "Yeah, you want this nasty ass faggot?" He grips both of his ass cheeks and gives them a playful shake.
"Yes sir, I need to worship your ass." I can't stop myself, my fingers wrap around his belt line and I begin unclipping the offending item. I need his ass, NOW. For his part, Brandon doesn't stop me, and I get his belt unhooked and then my hands are unbuttoning his pants.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBRBRBFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT
It doesn't hit me directly, but I pull his uniform pants down to his knees. He's wearing those cobalt blue boxers again, and I smash my face against his ass. I take a large inhale of his musk and what remained of the last fart just in time for another to hit me.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
"Fuck yes faggot. Breathe those butt bombs in!" His grip is back, but it's not necessary. I have my arms wrapped around his waist and my face pressed against his ass on my volition.
"Yes sir! I can take it." I say, for my benefit as I don't know where this confidence is coming from.
"Fuck!" I yell as I struggle to keep up with the torturous farts. "Sir, they burn so bad." I keep inhaling anyways.
"Good!" He counters as a silent hissing fart releases from ass for 10ish seconds. The stench was horrid and I physically recoil to gag and cough, but Brandon's hand isn't too far off, pulling me back against his ass.
PFFFFFFFFBRRFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT
"You know, I don't know why I bless you with these godly farts." He roughly uses my hair to drag my nose up and down his crack.
"Fags don't deserve my attention. Especially ones like you that don't what they're told."
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBRBRBFFFFFFFTFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT
Barrage after barrage is burned into my nose as I inhale every bomb that his ass gives me. I don't have much of a choice with the grip that Brandon has on me. "I'm sorry, I'll do better." I try.
"Shut up, the only thing I should be hearing is you sniffing my ass like the pig faggot you are."
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT
It's getting really difficult to breathe now, and Brandon hasn't given me a second to catch a real breath of air. I'm about to voice that concern, but I really don't want to piss him off. Instead I reach around and take a hold of his bulge at the same time as I take a large inhale of ass.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBRRFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT
I take the fact that he doesn't remove my hand as a good sign as I slowly stroke his thick dong as I sniff the noxious fumes. I swear I can feel my brain cells getting fried or maybe that's the lack of air. I feel hot and I can't stop shaking.
"Ah fuuck." Brandon sighs in relief as I struggle to keep up. "Alright, scene change." He lets go of my hair (finally) and I pull away from his massive ass. As soon as I'm away, I'm on all fours taking deep breaths of the fresh air. "Awww, faggot having a hard time breathe?" He goads.
I recompose myself and get back on my knees. "It's an honor to breathe in your manly farts." A complete and bullshit lie. Even the lingering scent of all the farts he just put me through is burning my eyes and nose.
"Correct. You're welcome." Brandon says casually as he helps me get back on my feet. I'm not standing long when he picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.
"Whoa-wait let me down!" I say as he carries me further into my apartment. The guy is lifting me like I weigh nothing!
"No. We're just getting started." He states matter of factly as he carries me to my bedroom, where he throws me down onto my bed causing me to let out an oof. I sit up on my elbows and watch as he closes the door and locks it. It was at this moment I remembered my bottom half is naked and I'm sporting a generous hard on. "Down." He points back to the bed and I drop so I'm laying fully down.
I don't get to see the full movement, but after a few moments of adjusting, Brandon's boxer clad ass is lowering down on my face. I realize that the moment his ass fully sits on my face, that I'll be at his mercy again. I know I've been playing someone who is enjoying this, but this is still disgusting as fuck.
As soon as his ass engulfs my face, it's back to business.
He grinds his ass against my face, almost as insult to injury. I do my best to inhale the gas, it honestly feels like I'm frying my braincells the more and more I'm trapped in his ass. I make loud huffing sounds, for Brandon's benefit, and he keeps gracing me with his raunchy farts.
"Stop!!!" I yell, and to my surprise Brandon lifts up. I take the two seconds he gives me to take a large inhale and then he slams his weight back down onto my face.
"The only thing I should be hearing is your nose breathing me in." I manage to hold back the whimper in the back of my throat. I'm pretty sure I'm at my limit of what I can take, but that doesn't mean anything to Brandon.
Brandon gives a sigh of relief as he lifts up again. "Breathe." He says as he starts pulling his underwear off.
"Brandon, please don't make me do that." I use the time wisely to try and catch my breath, but the impending doom of having his bare ass on my face is making me shake. It's a wonderful ass, manly and hairy.
"See you say shit like that." The boxers are on the floor now. "But you're gonna take it. I'm going to make sure you do, and you're going to enjoy it. Lay back down." I follow orders. I watch as his ass slowly descends back down onto my face, then he slams down at the last second.
The action makes me lose all the remaining air in my lungs and I'm immediately greeted with his hole pressed against my nose.
"Holy shit." Brandon says to himself as the 10 second fart is forced down my nose. "Fuck, that was amazing. But you know what would be better?" He's grinding his ass on my face again and it's so much worse than before.
"Underwear?" I answer even though I know he won't understand me while I'm muffled under his ass.
"Correct! Your tongue on my hole." That whine I don't catch. He laughs, but I know I need to do as he says or this is somehow going to get worse.
"Get your fucking tongue out faggot." I relent and run my tongue up his crack over his hole. "Good boy." He teases.
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
Fuck I hate this so fucking much. The taste is revolting, and my body actively fights against him without my say so. I start kicking and flailing but he grabs my hips and holds me down. "Uh-uh, fag, you're not getting out."
PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBRFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT
I should've closed my mouth, but I was too slow. His ass has me completely at his mercy and there's none to be had it seems.
"Fuck, you getting these fag?" He's panting hard as those bombs hit my face.
I don't respond, because obviously I'm getting them. It's all I can smell and taste. It's not like I can be getting anything else in this situation. He destroys my throat, nose, tongue, and brain all with his ass.
"Can't-" My jaw is feeling weak and I'm losing function of my tongue.
Until I feel myself jolt awake. "There he is." I look up and Brandon is towering over me. He's fully dressed again and his smug grin is plastered on his face. "Gotta go faggot. Leaving you these, don't miss me too much." He drops his blue boxers on my face.
"I hate you." I grab the boxers, pull them to my nose, and grab my cock. I can feel the judgement in his laugh but I don't care. I'm getting something out of this fucked up... situationship?
"You're really good at showing it." He doesn't stay, just closes my bedroom door and shortly after I hear the front door open and close.
Everything smells awful. Or maybe it's just me? But I get through it by huffing on the crotch of the boxers until I cum. Multiple long showers are calling my name.
March 23 -
While sitting here in my office, I swear I can still smell him...
Thanks for the inspiration. Definitely not as good as one of yours but I hope you enjoy
I moved into my own shoebox apartment when I was 23 years old. I was eager for freedom from my parents but I could not have anticipated I would trade their watchful eyes for his…for Kyle’s.
I met him within my first few days living in the building. Getting back from seeing some friends the two of us ended up on the elevator at the same time. Likely in his mid forties the most accurate way to describe Kyle is that he is an ogre of a man. His size, the unruly chest hairy that I’d see escaping the tops of his shirts, and of course his scent. Being in an elevator with the guy made me learn that last one quite quickly.
Kyle wore a wife beater and black gym shorts. He looked stick. And no sooner than the doors closed the small space filled with his body odor. He must’ve noticed me because he joked “I can fill a space quite easily”. I gave him a polite little laugh. Which did not appease Kyle. “No seriously kid. Check it out.” He lifted his leg exaggeratedly and ripped a loud long fart. “What the fuck dude!” I immediately covered my nose with my shirt as like bursted with laughter
“Awh covering your nose ain’t no fair”. I thought he’d leave it with that but instead Kyle used his larger size to cram me into the corner of the elevator. My hands forced at my sides he smiled at me with his gross yellowing teeth. “Sniff my fart.” My eyes widened in fear. The elevator opened onto his floor but he made no movements. Instead once the door resealed he let out another grosss sounding sputtering fart. “Sniff it before the door opens again and I owe you another one” Kyle pressed his body harder into mine. He was definitely sticky with sweat.
I took a loud inhale and began to choke on the stink of Kyle’s fart. It smelled of shit and Brussels sprouts. Kyle licked his lips as I continued to sniff and gag. “Say you like sniffing my farts” Mortified and terrified I told Kyle what he wanted right away.
“I like sniffing your farts sir” I sounded like a little bitch.
My compliance was met with cruelty. Kyle leaned in a said “gooUERRRPdd” burping mid word and blowing it softly onto my face. He then stuck his hand into the back of his pants and scrunched his face up. When he pulled it out I saw his index finger was shiny. He took his finger and firmly wiped it across my nostrils. I gasped as I relaxed what he’d done. I could only smell shit. He’d marked me with his butt sweat. “So you can smell me later” Kyle gave me a wink and swaggered out of the elevator.
The following weeks I moved about the building with fear. I chose to only take the stairs not wanting to risk another run in with Kyle. It was just under a month later when we met again.
I was loading my laundry into the washing machine when I heard the loud click and slam of the door behind me. I gave a small glance behind me thinking not much of it only to do a quick double take when I saw the beast standing behind me. I turned fully around but still being crouched down to load the washing machine I fell back onto my boney butt.
Kyle sauntered up to me. His crotch at my eye level. He dropped his laundry back in front of me with a thud. “What perfect timing. Little sniffer boy here in the laundry room right where I need him.”
Kyle bent over and unzipped his laundry bag. I was struck with the stink already. It was sour like feet blended with the raw stink of shit. Without a hesitation Kyle grabbed me by the hair and shoved my face into the bag. “How’s that smell? Today’s socks and underwear day. I’ve probably worn each pair in there about five or six times each”
The scent had me believing him, but what kind of disgusting person has a laundry day just for socks and underwear?? They should be washed the most frequently. I was gagging in his stink while Kyle laughed loudly. Kyle didn’t leave me struggling in his laundry bag too long. After letting me free Kyle lightly slapped my cheeks. “Okay so you’re gonna do my laundry too. Got it!?” He commanded.
I went to start another machine when he stopped me. “No need. Just throw all my stuff in with yours” This proposition caused me to pause. There was no way I wanted to put underwear that had been worn up to six times by a gross fat hairy man in with my clothes. “Uh… that’s alright Sir I’ll just d”
Kyle effortlessly reached out and slapped me across my face. I let out a wimpy yelp. “Load your washing machine with my clothes now.” I followed my orders right away this time. I picked up Kyle’s bag and began to move the clothes into the machine.
The machine was already so full I knew that stuffing all of his extra socks and underwear in would mean that nothing would get fully cleaned. Kyle was likely aware of this too. Hoping that his nasty clothes would just contaminate my own.
This socks I put in were crusty and yellowing, and the boxers were far worse. Nearly all of them had long dark streaks of shit in them. Skid marks that looked as if someone intentionally wiped their ass with their underwear. I was heaving as I touched them and internally groaning as I watched them land on my clothing.
“What’s your apartment number fart lover?” Kyle seemingly decided that I did not have a say in what happened anymore. “7c” I said timidly. “Give me your key” He stuck out his meaty hand and impatiently slapped his fingers up and down into his palm to tell me to hand my keys over.
My head was trying to work out if there was some way I could avoid giving him my keys. But I knew I did not have enough time to figure that out. So with much reluctance I dug them out of my pocket and handed them to Kyle. He snatched them up and laughed in my face.
“Alright I’ll see you up there when our laundry is finished” and just like that he swaggered out of the room.
A while later when I made it up to my apartment I found Kyle sprawled out on my couch. He had stripped his shirt off and was drinking one of my beers. There were other cans on the floor as well. “Took long enough Princess” he spat at me. Then for the next hour he made me separate each of our clothes and fold all of his socks and underwear for him.
I could tell that u was right and the washing machine was unable to do much washing. His socks were less crusty than before but the skid marks in his underwear still remained.
All throughout me folding his clothes Kyle continually ripped ass over and over again. The same type of fart in the elevator. Loud and abrasive. Surely wet. It was no wonder he had such bad skid marks with the amount of farts he was letting out. At one point he even grabbed one of my couch pillows and just shoved it under his butt to fart on some more.
That night when he left he made me thank him for spending time with me. “Sissy boys like you are lucky to hang out with a real man” And he took my apartment key with him. Said he had a friend who’d make him a copy tomorrow.
From then on Kyle came around whenever he wanted. To drink my beer, eat my food, but more importantly to fart on my face.
He told me that when I admitted to him in the elevator that I liked sniffing his farts he vowed to himself that he would try his best to never waste a fart by letting it rip without my nose to sniff it up or my lips to catch it. He also made me alter my life so I was available as much as possible to be there to sniff his farts. Making me delete all the dating apps I had and tell the girl I had gone out a couple times with that I was no longer interested.
The first time he fart on my face was the day after I did his laundry. He came to my apartment that evening and returned my apartment key. Kyle then told me he had something he wanted to show me.
I had already been forced to my knees so Kyle turned his back to me and pulled down his jeans. Looking directly into his beefy butt already had me wanting to cry but it was the state of his ass that really set me over the edge. I knew the underwear he was wearing were a pair I’d “washed” the day prior. I could see the long streak of shit along his crack and now in addition to the skid mark there was a fresh dark line of sweat.
“Got some major swamp ass right now kid. Good thing you like sniffing my nasty ass right?” Kyle chuckled and shoved my face into the depths of his pudgy cheeks. I was being water boarded with ass sweat and that was still preferable to his Brussels sprout shit flavored farts I was about to sample.
And so me sniffing Kyle’s butt and farts became normal, at least as normal as it gets for a struggling 23 year old being forced to do the nastiest thing of his life on a daily basis.
There’d be times when I’d hear my door unlock and his loud feet stomping into my apartment he’d yell “I got some beef for you boy!” And I’d be expected to crawl over to him and sniff it all up only for him to leave without so much as another word. And then there’d be other times when he’d show up and not leave for hours.
I remember one Saturday night in particular. It was around 10:30 pm and I had finally started to convince myself Kyle would not be coming that day. My first day since he started forcing me to sniff his farts that I’d get a break. Though break is generous since I spent the first twenty hours of the day anxious about when he’d burst through my front door.
I took some edibles and prepared myself a shower. The dosage I took was slightly larger than I was used to but I was feeling like treating myself. I took a long hot shower and when I came out I was sufficiently high. I sprayed lavender scented mist into the air and the steam took it up filling the room with the lovely fragrance. Taking my time I eventually exited the bathroom in just my towel.
Lost in thought, as I walked to my bedroom, I was singing along to the overplayed commercial jingle I could hear coming from my living room. I then paused realizing I did not have my tv on when I went to shower. Logically it makes sense that this would mean Kyle had come over but my stoned self didn’t even think of it.
I leisurely pranced over to the living room only for my face to pale and my stomach to drop when k saw him. Glancing away from the tv he saw me, a huge smile growing on his face. “Look who was getting all prettied up for me!” Kyle’s voice slurred. He was drunk. I was too high to figure out what I should be doing next but Kyle was more than happy to order me around. “Drop your towel and crawl over here pretty boy!” His words oozed with authority.
The dropping of my towel was met with a mean laugh. “Nice clit fart boy. No wonder farts turn you on. Can’t use that thing for anything anyways” I crawled to him in total embarrassment. I was a young guy. I should be in the prime of my life. Out having sex partying with my friends but instead I was here being degraded and farted on by a gross bully twice my age.
Kyle gets cruel when he’s drunk. But something about that night made him extra mean. I think it had something to do with our contrast. Him sweaty from being out at some club with his boys, smelling of stink and me freshly showered smelling of lavender. He rubbed his thumb across my lips. Kyle continued to raise my feeling of violation. “You look so nice and clean. But now you’re gonna use those pretty plump lips and soft clean skin to clean up my shitter!”
Kyle bent himself over my couch and pulled down the back of his pants and underwear. Showing me his putrid hairy butt. He laughed as my face contorted from the sight and scent.
“Get your pathetic face in there!” Kyle aggressively shoved my face deeply between his butt cheeks. “Get in there!” Kyle rubbed me all around his butt crack. Using me like toilet paper and moaning as he did so. I could feel the shit and sweat being rubbed deeply into my freshly clean skin. “Yea! YEA!” He was getting really into it.
Kyle turned around and looked at me. His eyes were dark and glassy. “You’re such a bitch you know that? Your pretty little face belongs in my butt”. I tried to conjure words but instead a single tear fell down my face. I was so high and Kyle did nothing to calm my fears. Kyle laughed at my tears and then resumed rubbing his butt with my face. “I want your cute nose covered in my shit! And I don’t want you to even think about washing it off either.” Kyle’s Rutherford grew more aggressive, my face was now foraging in his butt cheeks. “You don’t deserve to smell clean. You should only ever smell like my butt. You got me princess!?” This time he pulled my face out briefly so I could respond. I gave a soft whimpering yes. “Nah use your head to say yes. I wanna feel that nose grinding up and down”.
This continued between us for hours. It must’ve been around 3:30 in the morning when Kyle finally passed out on my couch. He had been lying on his stomach and demanded I lay face down nose directly in his butthole. I cried myself to sleep in his butt cheeks that night.
As the summer came Kyle grew more nasty in his torment of me. He was a part of a men’s softball league which meant I got to be introduced to his lucky compression shorts, that have never been washed. It also meant swamp ass duty was more intense. Kyle was using my face to wipe the sweat from his butt crack cheeks near daily.
My least favorite torment that the summer brought was Kyle’s shit. Yes you heard me right. Kyle started exclusively pooping in my apartments bathroom. And he never flushes. It started one day when I returned home only to find Kyle’s disgusting creation filling my toilet bowl. I immediately flushed it and avoided entering my bathroom for the remainder of the day.
I got in a lot of trouble the next day when Kyle found out I flushed his shit. “Are you kidding me bitch!? I got outta my way to drop a bomb like that in your toilet and you just flush it? No thank you no nothing? Wow we’re really gonna have to teach you some toilet manners”
From then on I was not allowed to flush my toilet if Kyle had used it. He spend an afternoon farting on me and making me worship his butt only to let out a huge turd right before he left. “I’ll be away the next couple of days. But don’t flush that gift I made for ya. In fact tomorrow when you’re missing me I want you to go in there and take a few huffs of the toilet. So you don’t miss me too much”
The smell of Kyle’s shit was worse than his farts. While having his Brussels sprout beef blown straight up my nose was no pleasure it was far more bearable than the gag inducing strength of his shit. Kyle knew this though and was happy I hated his poops so much.
Another Saturday more recently Kyle as usual was lunging on my couch. He was wearing just his softball compressions and I had been spending the last couple hours kissing his butt cheeks back and forth sniffing his cracks and any farts he had whenever he demanded.
I was in great need of a break when Kyle got up. “Come on” he gestured as he started to walk down my hall way. “Can I help you Sir?” I questioned as I began to follow. Kyle stopped and looked back at me. “Yea, I gotta take a dump, let’s go”. My stomach dropped. “Oh uh you need me for that Sir?” I tried to play dumb. “Get your sissy ass in the bathroom now”
I tried to reason with myself that he was only bringing me in there to put the toilet seat down for him or something else easy, but in my gut I knew. He was waiting for me at the door with his perpetually satisfied smile. I entered my own bathroom, a place I’d grown to fear. Kyle followed in behind me shutting and locking the door. “Kneel in front of the toilet”
I obeyed even if my mind was begging me not to. Kyle dropped his pants and underwear and took a loud seat into the bowl. “Ahhhhh” he let a sigh. “Nothing like the first shit of the day after a night out.” Kyle put his hand on my head and pulled me face forward into the bowl. My face filling the small gap between his thighs. The smell of his crotch and crack were already filling the space.
A whiny fart moaned out of Kyle’s butt filling the toilet with his signature combo of Brussels sprouts and shit. The fart quickly developed into a sputtering. Shit sprayed out of his ass into the toilet.
“Oh fuck. Sir please this is too much!” I attempted to reason my way out. His hands and thoughts had me locked in the toilet. Kyle laughed “here comes a big guy” he then pushed out a massive turd. It plopped into the bowl with a splash.
I gagged relentlessly. Barely being able to speak. “Please man fuck! Come on! This is too much” I was crying then. “You stink so bad. I don’t like this. Please” my last please came out as a crying moan. Kyle pulled my face from between his thighs though the smell of his dump had already filled the space.
“You don’t like it?” Kyle asked. I continued to cry as I spoke. “No! I hate all of this. Please no more farts, no more swamp ass, no more poop!”
Kyle gave a light laugh. “Wow. I mean jeez kid. All this time. You’re been letting me use you as a fart cushion and as my asswiple all this time and now you finally come out and beg me to stop. That’s so pathetic. You’re fucking embarrassing. What would you rather be doing? Being a normal hot guy in his twenties? No you don’t deserve that. How could you deserve getting to be a normal guy when you’ve let me make you worship my disgusting ass, and we both know just how fucking nasty it is. You‘be worshiped a filthy hairy man butt for months now, I’ve had you begging for farts. And now you tell me you don’t like it! No I don’t buy it. And even if I did. Too bad. You belong to me princess. So get your face back in between my thighs and take some long deep inhales of my dump. Cause just like all my farts are saved for your cute nose I’m gonna start save every shit for you too. I’ll even let you pick sometimes if you’d rather wipe my ass clean with your hands, let me wipe my ass clean with your face, or if I should just go true man and leave things nice and messy down there for you. Maybe I’ll take a big dump in one of the porta pottys over at the softball field. I won’t wipe and I will lock you inside for the game. Imagine that? 80 degree heat baking my fresh shit in there with you. Then once the games over I’ll come and get your fairy ass and give you a stinkface you could only dream about. My unwiped ass will dry in my crack plus the sweat from the game slathering it back up. It’ll be the best case of swamp ass I’ve ever had, but my butt will sure be itchy. And that’s where your pretty face and nose come in.”
I sobbed into the toilet. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now what’s it gonna be today Princess? I’m thinking since that face of yours is already covered in tears it’d make for some really good toilet paper!”
my older brother once made me lick our toilet after I lost a bet to him. I had to lick the seat the rim under the sit and then the actual bowl. He was narrating to me the whole time too about how he took a massive shit just a few hours ago
That’s so hot! And I want all the details! Oh man, Sometimes reality truly surpasses fiction! And I really do love the betting trope and the Bully Oldee Brother. If you could feel comfortable sharing more of your experience, or if there were any other similar bets or anything, I’d love to know.
Now, if I had to write a stories under this premise, I’d love to think there might’ve been other bets along the way, and clearly the Older brother felt at least some degree of satisfaction from the humiliation, so I think it’d go almost like this…
…..
The house stood quiet under the weekend sun, parents gone for the long haul, leaving just the two brothers to their own devices. Arnold, the older one by two years, lounged in the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, a sly grin tugging at his lips. Evan, was slighter in build, knelt on the cold tile floor, his face pale as he stared at the toilet. The two were used to betting between them, he knew he shouldn’t with how Arnold loved to see how far he could push him whenever he lost, but he had thought he could win that stupid a video game wager. Clearly, he was wrong.
"You lost fair and square, little bro," Arnold said with a chuckle, clearly enjoying himself with mirth. "Rules are rules, the loser has to do whatever the winner wants, and I want you to lick the toilet clean"
Evan's stomach twisted. The toilet seat was up, revealing the porcelain bowl beneath, but even from here, he could see the sprinkle of yellow droplets on the white plastic rim. Piss stains, fresh and dried, dotted the surface. He hesitated, trembling a bit as he approached.
Evan leaned in, his nose inches from the seat. It felt oddly warm against his tongue as he pressed the first tentative lick.
“It’s warm” he murmured with disgust, but not so quietly for it to go unnoticed.
Arnold leaned in a bit, smirking. "Oh yeah, heads up, I just took a massive shit in there."
The taste hit him like a slap, acidic, sharp like pure urine, with a faint salty undertone from the sweat that lingered in the creases. He gagged, but Alex's hand rested on his shoulder, firm but amused.
"Ha, getting that first taste? Keep at it, I didn’t have the best aim so my piss is all over there from after the dump. I really wanted to try sinking it with my stream but it was so massive, thankfully it flushed”.
Evan forced himself to continue, trying to ignore his brother:s taunt as his tongue continued dragging across the smooth texture of the seat. The dried bits flaked slightly, mixing with the wet spots that burst with that bitter tang. Saliva mixed with the residue, reactivating the old piss as he lapped at it, circling the seat, feeling the residual warmth seep into his mouth. Arnold watched with a satisfied nod, clearly enjoying the show.
"Not bad, Evan. You're a natural at this cleaning gig. "
Evan pulled back for a breath, wiping his mouth, but Arnold nudged him forward with a grin. A few short minutes dragged on until the seat gleamed wet from his efforts, though the taste lingered, coating his throat.
"Alright, next round," Arnold said, flipping the seat down with a clunk, his tone light. "The rim under there. Make it quick, but thorough."
Evan's face hovered over the underside now, closer to the bowl's open maw. The smell intensified immediately— a heavier waft of urine rising from below, mingled with something way worse— He licked at the ceramic rim, the flavor much like the seat but colder. Remnant urine zapping his taste buds with acidity. It was quicker, since there weren’t any apparent stains and it took maybe a dozen strokes of his tongue, but the proximity to the bowl made his eyes water. The stench clawed at his nostrils, and he tried to push it away by exhaling through his nostrils.
Arnold crossed his arms, chuckling softly. "Sniffing the aftermath already? That's from my epic shit, it seems it left a few streaks for ya. This'll be fun."
Evan finished the rim, his mouth numb, the salty bite fading into a dull ache. He sat back on his heels, pleading with his eyes, but Arnold just raised an eyebrow with a smirk, looking not the least moved.
"Nanana, no backing now, bro. The bowl, lick it clean. Really get those stains with your tongue. Bet's a bet."
The bowl loomed, it had remained unwashed for days, and he himself had contributed along with his brother in how its porcelain was dulled by a film of grime and worse. Brownish smears clung to the walls and waterline, remnants of Arnold’s recent evacuation, and a deep acrid smell wafted from the bottom. The smell was terrible, a pungent mix of feces, stale piss, and mildew that hadn't seen a brush in weeks. Up this close, he had nausea before even touching it, the odor filling his lungs like a toxic fog.
"Go for it," Arnold encouraged with a smirk, leaning closer. "Tongue out, you clean up my mess. The faster you get on with it the better”
Evan dipped his head into the bowl, tongue extended, and made contact with the cool porcelain just below the rim. It didn’t taste any special, really bad but not particularly worse than the rim and seat, although the smell and fact that it was colder and his hair almost touched the water had the psychological impact of a truck.
It wasn’t until he approached one of the smears that the taste exploded, bitter, putrid, fecal, with chunks of dried matter that his saliva reactivated filling his mouth with an indescribably repulsive taste. He retched, but pressed on, lapping at the stains as Arnold made sure he didn’t get up. They were stubborn, requiring broad strokes to scrape them away, his saliva turning the brown to a muddy paste that he had to swallow down.
Arnold watched intently, a grin spreading. "Right on those streaks , that's the big turd I dropped, see if you can taste the hamburgers from last night! You really liked them, do you still like them now? They’re specially seasoned."
Evan's reluctance grew with each lick, his body shaking as he worked lower, circling the bowl's curve. The smell intensified, waves of rotten egg and decay assaulting him. When he slowed, hesitating at a particularly dark smear, Arnold’s foot pressed down on the back of his head, not hard, but enough to push him in with a laugh. Water sloshed near his nose, but he couldn't pull away.
"Almost done, you really got in there good. But there’s really only one way to finish this don’t you think? Now hold your breath" Evan quickly realized his intentions and quickly obeyed without any other options as Arnold pulled the lever, flushing the toilet as he stepped on Evan’s scalp, giving him a swirly.
As the toilet finished flushing, Arnold eased off, still chuckling, and stepped back.
Evan stood up, gathering his breath as he glared at his brother. Putting up a brave face he really wasn’t feeling that much.
“No more bets! That’s really the worse thing I’ve ever done”
“Oh, you think so?”
In response, Arnold fished out his phone and shoved the screen toward Evan. There it was a video of Evan licking the toilet, and Arnold scrolled to show him a number of photos of him licking the seat and the rim, and even one of Arnold stepping on him as he flushed the toilet.
“I think this really is just the beginning, little bro”
My younger Brother was wildly homophobic. He and His friends spat out the word “faggot” constantly, usually directed at me. But it got worse when my Brother used my laptop and decided to read through my texts, where he discovered a treasure trove of disgusting messages and degrading pictures, all relating to me being an inferior submissive faggot.
“Licking dirty shoes?! And sniffing nasty, sweaty feet? And pits?! Eating sweaty ass, smelling farts, begging guys to hork in your face. What the fuck is WRONG with you?! Do you know how fucked up that makes you? You are lower than low, faggot. You are dirt to me, you sick fucking homo. You’re not even fucking human in my eyes.”
i struggled to put a sentence together, stumbling over my words, my face totally flushed.
“I have dirty shoes. Would you lick those? My feet stink, and they’re fucking dirty… would you beg to sniff and lick My feet, faggot?”
i squirmed at the question, and my silence said everything. His eyes got wide, and a grimace of utter disgust came across His face.
“You sick, subhuman, faggot fuck. Get on the floor right now and lick the fucking bottoms of My shoes. Think about how completely fucked up you have to be to do shit like this, especially for your younger brother. I can’t even look at you, faggot.”
You close your eyes as the sound of his fart fills your ears. For the last hour you were eagerly sniffing the stinking air while you kneeled at his bedside hoping he would not wake up for a few more hours. "Thank you Master" you whisper, slightly gagging on the fart that was undoubtedly the product of the eggs he ate last night. He was luch gassier in his sleep, but you didn't care though, each fart induced gag was an honour in your eyes. Afterall no other sub would ever be in this position. Things just lined up perfectly, you were looking to serve, and he was traveling to your city but didn't want to pay extortionate hotel prices. Naturally you offered your place. His only condition was that you were not to look at his face without him wearing his dom mask. Now here you are, kneeling at the side of your guest bed sniffing your masters farts in your own home.
*Early Dirty Desires post for the weekend :) Flagged on the main in drafts*
So bold of you to assume you are worthy of touching my body in any way… You are a special kind of idiot if you think having a big dick means anything to me. No I made you drive three and a half hours to smell my putrid gas while I rip farts directly in your stupid face. I had a massive birria burrito for lunch so I’ve got some potent oily loud thunderclaps coming your way. I’m gonna fart directly in your face just so you’re clear that I don’t respect you. It’s not even a turn on for me this is just to humiliate you and laugh at just how low you’ll sink for a nice wide jiggly ass. You’re gonna take these bombs right to the face and thank me until I’m board of you… then you’ll lick the bottoms of my sweaty feet clean and then fucking leeeeeave. After a few weeks of this if you’ve proven how depraved and pathetic you are I’ll consider taking the shorts off… mmmph fuck get down here. I feel one movin down the cannon… Mexican food aways boils in my guts. Mmm oh fuck it feels like it’s gonna be a big one. I bet it’s gonna be oily too uhn yeah there it goes keep your mouth open too. Wanna make sure you get the smell AND the taste…HmmnnnNN… PRRAAAATAATPAPA… oh fuck yeah that felt good. Damn it left my asshole slick. Stop coughing and get back in place… I think that one had a twin! Mouth. Open! And where’s my “thank you”?! So ungrateful. That’s why you’re down there tasting the smell of my fucking guts… mmmm god here it comes!
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.
