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By Dirk Poofter on Sun Mar 8th, 1998
As I sat there listening intently to Debbie's aimless, vapid conversation another knife stab of gas pain shot through my gut. I winced as little as possible and redoubled the clenching of my butt cheeks. It was one of those 'finally-meet-the-guy-who's-been-shtupping-our-daughter' formal dinners and my gal's mom, Debbie, had pulled out all the stops. Me, I'd been sitting there all through cocktails with a double-wide load of lunchtime burritos dancing the macarena on my colon while Debbie and her husband, Ron, peppered me with the usual questions. I was able to squeeze off a couple discreetly into the soft, plush cushions of that chair occasionally (which did a remarkable job of attenuating the report as well as scent) when I leaned forward to replace my drink on the coffee table, synchronizing each "Phh-hh-h-t" with the glass' clink. But that only inflamed my bowels with a lust for great, relieving cheek flappers.
Just as I was about to excuse myself was when dinner was served, so I couldn't politely depart at that point. I endured the slow, tortuous passing of the heaping plates; the courses were rotating counter clock, so I was constantly leaning to my right to pass plates to Ron. A couple of leans I couldn't help sneaking off a squeaker, which were pointed left at Debbie. I tried mostly unsuccessfully to disguise them by blurting out some or another comment. But my guts were now raging with pressure and could only barely be denied. My girlfriend and her dad seemed oblivious, but I'm sure Debbie heard the third one when she cocked one eyebrow at me... which was probably about the time the odor from the second one was reaching her. One of her nostrils flared briefly, as if confirming a suspicion. Thereafter her attention seemed riveted on me--her eyes rarely left me even if the conversation did. I couldn't tell from the cynical twist in one corner of her mouth whether she was disappointed in my comport, or amused by my predicament.
An eternity later after dessert I got an idea, and asked Ron if I could borrow his phone. "Sure," he replied, rising and pointing into the kitchen, where one hung on a wall. My face fell, and I stuttered something to the effect that I needed more privacy (the truth!). He directed me down a hall toward his study, which fortuitously lay just beyond a half-bath. I ducked inside, closing the door and flipping the fan switch just as a long-denied thunderous blast broke free of my bum, "Uhrr-r-r-r-rttt!"-- a baritone which reverbed sympathetically with the small room's acoustics. "Ahhh!!!", I sighed. Another basso profundo bellow added punctuation and threatened to soil my jockey. I scrunched them to my knees and plopped onto the bowl just in time to eject my rowdy Mexican friends. The flatulent stench wreathed my face in hideous fumes--the exhaust fan was seriously underpowered for these jobbies.
Relief was diminishing into a languid satisfaction when I heard footsteps approaching, the sharp click, clack of women's shoes. I glanced automatically to the door at the same time I remembered I'd forgotten to lock it. Jeez, I hope it was Cindy, heading to the study to steal a quick grope & smootch. The footfalls stopped at the door. The knob turned slowly, then the door swung open. Debbie stood there and held me with a direct glance. Expecting her to apologetically excuse herself, I was shocked when she stepped in and held me with a direct glance. "Uhhhh..." I stammered. "Sorry, I'll be out in a minute..."
Debbie stood there, arms folded, looking down on me with an unreadable expression. "Did you already finish your phone call?" mockingly. Before I could summon a reply, she coolly asked, "Just what did you think you were pulling back there at the table?"
"Wh..whaddya mean?" I replied weakly, feeling exposed and vulnerable. My knees automatically drew together.
She smirked. "Well, even if you think I wouldn't hear you, did you think I certainly wouldn't smell those things?"
Ack. Caught dead to rights. No cards up the sleeve any longer. "Oh, uh.....haha......sorry about that, Debbie. You know how it is."
"You can call me Mrs Wright." My face flaming red, I was caught speechless. She took a step closer and continued. "And I must say, young man, that you have some of the stinkiest farts I've encountered in some time." I noticed her glance dart down briefly, between my legs, searching. "And good Lord, I can now see why." Incredibly, I felt myself begin to stiffen, bumping against the edge of the seat. I squeezed my knees tighter.
She placed a hand on one hip and shifted her weight. "Ladies who have manners learn to hold their wind until a more appropriate time." Her hips were level with my eyes. "Now I stand here in desperate need of relief, and there you sit." I watched her hips shift again under her nicely cut dress, and was amazed to hear a delicate yet staccato "Ffl-ffl-fflt!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oops," she smirked. She turned around slowly, butt pointing straight at me, leaned slightly forward and cut another one, "Phhfffll-l-l-l-llllt. Boy, that baby leaped at my nostrils and the wonderful, strange exotic reek of this woman caused myself to extend fully and press painfully against the seat rim. "Whew!" she observed brightly, turning back around. "I really needed that." Her gaze dropped downward again. "Hmmm.....I was going to excuse myself......but I'm wondering if right now you're not enjoying it a little....?" I said nothing---I could say nothing, the situation was simply too incredible. But my nakedly eager expression spoke for itself.
Debbie stepped right up to me, tongue licking her lips. "What.....do you mean you'd like me to fart? Is that what you're thinking?" Slowly she rotated her butt around and backed right up to me. I instantly leaned forward toward her Rubenesquely plump rump and my face bumped her softly contoured cleft as I heard and felt her blow a strong pooter. It filled my nostrils with that pungent, unique fragrance of a well-kept, attractive middle-aged female. I reached up and grasped a cheek in each hand & squeezed, poking my nose at her bung and causing Debbie to jerk and squeeze off another one.
My hands snaked slowly down the backs of her thighs to her hemline and wickedly underneath, retracing their path upward. I delighted to find that Mrs Wright was not wearing pantyhose---she had the real deal, stockings and garters. I twisted off the ones in back before arriving back at her remarkably delicious cheeks, bunching her skirt around her waist. I slipped my fingers under the edge of her panties, tightening them over her mound and wedging them in her crack like a g-string. Her generous growth of pubic hair protruded from both sides of her crotch. I firmly shoved my nose against her asshole and swiveled my head up to bestow a coy tongue lick across the damp ridge rising under the silk, the hairs tickling my cheeks. At the feel of this, Debbie gasped and involuntarily blow a wet-sounding stutterer. I continued kneading her cheeks and spreading them with my thumbs and growing intoxicated by the ill wind blowing from her at intervals, which I enjoyed triggering with odd tongue lashes slipped beneath her panties to her sopping, salty crotch (observing only in passing that she tasted uncannily like her daughter). By now Debbie had bent over & braced her arms against the vanity, her torso nearly horizontal and hips bucking and mashing feverishly into my receptive face. When my tongue began exploring up and down the valley of her taint, tauntingly close to her bunghole, Debbie began panting heavily.
Abruptly I yanked her drawers down, finally baring her glorious, slick posterior. Rubbing her clit with one thumb, I boldly plunged my tongue abruptly into her forbidden brown chasm and felt it constrict around me before being abruptly forced out by a prodigiously loud and stinking final orgasmic blast of Debbie's gut gas--"Brrrr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ttt!" while her hips began quivering and her knees buckled. This sight instantaneously made me spurt my own reward down the inside of the toilet.
When Debbie's spasms had trailed off, she straightened up and began pulling herself together, silently, her back to me. I took the opportunity to quickly wipe and flush before pulling up my trousers, which were a bit of a trick to fasten over my stubbornly rigid member. Without turning around, while checking herself in the mirror Debbie said unemotionally, "Well, young man.......before we had this chance to speak, I'd been of the opinion that you perhaps were a low type which my daughter could have improved upon."
She turned around to face me. "But I've decided to reserve judgment....... for the time being." She added with a straight face, "By the way.....what are you two doing for dinner Friday night?"
