Date: Sun, 1 Jan 2012 16:35:02 -0800 (PST)
From: TJ King <phonebook715@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fraternity Couch, Part 3

FRATERNITY COUCH, PART III

This is a gay erotic story involving two adults.  This chapter includes
forced bondage and raunch.  If you are underage, do not read this!

*****

"Catch it, catch it! C'mon, get it! YEAH! OVERTIME!" Brandon shouted at the
football game on TV as I was left to suffer under his ass. He didn't even
comment on the fact that he had just farted my nose right out of his dirty
hole; the game was all that mattered to him again. Apparently the game was
going into overtime now. I didn't have much time to think about that when I
heard Brandon talking again.

"Hey bro, what's up, it's Brandon... Yeah, it's going into overtime, can
you believe it?... So dude, you are never gonna guess what I'm doing right
now..." Shit, he called someone?

"Haha, that's right man... Yeah, all the guys are gone so I finally got the
whole place to myself... Yeah... Yup... That's right... What are you
doing?... Mmmhmm... Fuck yeah... Alright bro... see ya."

Since I was only able to hear one side of the conversation, I had no idea
who Brandon was talking to or exactly what they were talking about. Did he
tell this guy something in advance? Who was it? My thoughts were
interrupted as Brandon stood up suddenly.

"Alright fag, commercial break before the game comes back on. I'm gonna go
grab myself a beer and some snacks. Don't go anywhere -- oh wait, that's
right, you can't!" Brandon laughed at his oh-so-clever line as he walked
off to the kitchen, leaving me staring at the ceiling.

I heard some rustling in the kitchen and the opening and closing of the
fridge. Brandon came back pretty quickly, clearly not wanting to risk miss
any of the game. He held up a Tupperware container for me to see, but I
couldn't tell what was in it. He smiled down at me as he told me about the
contents.

"Forgot that I made up all these hard boiled eggs the other day to put on
my salads. I thought these would make the perfect snack to go along with my
beer, don't you agree?"

With that, he turned around and sat his naked ass back down on my face. The
nasty sewage smell of his last fart still lingered in his crack and
assaulted my nose immediately. He slid back a little bit and I was able to
see very briefly as Brandon reached behind him to grab a blanket off the
back of the couch. He placed it over his lap, effectively blocking out my
light and trapping my face in with the lower part of his body.

"It's getting a little chilly in here, don't you think? I thought a nice,
heavy blanket would help both of us stay warm. I won't let my little seat
get cold. Enjoy the rest of the game down there, bitch."

Right after he said that, he ripped another long, airy fart right on my
face. He let out a heavy sigh of relief and shifted around a bit on the
couch, clearly getting comfortable for the game. The stench of this fart
was much like the previous one he ripped; it smelled like sewage and pure
shit. I very quickly discovered the minus to the heavy blanket. It trapped
in all of the smells so that they couldn't dissipate as quickly! I was
breathing in the same recycled fart air for a few minutes and struggling
not to gag. The heat from our bodies was making the temperature under the
blanket rise very quickly and I felt perspiration rolling down my
forehead. I heard and felt him let out another airy fart right on my face.

"Aaaaah, fuck man, that beer always tears me up! You know what's nice
though? I haven't even gotten a single whiff of those last couple
farts. Guess it's all staying down there with you. See, I told you I
wouldn't let you get cold. Bet it's nice and toasty in your new home!"

This one proved to be too much for me. Between the intense heat, the
disgusting smell, and the layer of sweat that was starting to build up on
my face and on his asscheeks, I started to get a little queasy. I started
gagging a little bit and it just got worse with every breath I took in. I
began to try to verbally protest through the duck tape to tell Brandon that
I was going to be sick and that he had to let me out.

"What's all that noise down there? You'd better learn to be quiet and enjoy
it down there. My buddy Nick just got off work and he's on his way over to
catch the post-game show with me. You don't want him finding out you are
down there. If you think I'm cruel, he'll fucking destroy you if he gets
into using you. Just breathe deep, relax, shut up, and enjoy what I'm
brewing up for you, haha!"

Oh shit, so he was inviting someone over when he was on the phone earlier!
I tried to keep my mind off my situation so that I wouldn't gag and so that
I wouldn't freak out about what was going on. I'm assuming that Brandon
wouldn't want Nick to find out what he was doing, so he will probably leave
the blanket over me. At this point I began to weigh my options. Would it be
better to be stuck under this blanket with all of Brandon's nasty fart gas
trapped in assaulting my nose, or would it be better for him to take off
the blanket and have Nick find out? Maybe Nick would think what Brandon was
doing to me was disgusting and inhumane and he would help me get out. I'm
sure most normal human beings can't think that something like this is
fun. My thoughts were again interrupted when I heard Brandon's cell phone
ring. He answered it pretty quickly.

"Hey bro... yeah, it's open, come on in."

I'm guessing that must be Nick. The blanket is still over me now so that's
a good thing, I think. I must have thought that too soon, because Brandon
let a very short, very loud fart go right at that moment. As the smell
began to hit me, I heard a deep, masculine voice in the room.

"Brandon! What's up?"

That must have been Nick. I was trying my best not to choke on the smell
and to stay as quiet as possible. Brandon must have timed that fart so he
could let it go right as Nick was about to walk in. That bastard.

"Nick, how's it going man? Go grab yourself a beer and whatever you want
out of the kitchen. The game's just finishing up."

I heard a rustling in the kitchen and Brandon quietly talked to me which
Nick was in the other room.

"Enjoy that fart, man? I tried to make sure I pushed it out at the right
time for you. Gotta admit you did a good job staying quiet, but trust me,
it's gonna get worse from here. Hard boiled eggs are not my friend, if you
know what I mean, haha. Nick's coming back -- enjoy!"

I felt a heavy shifting on the couch, meaning that Nick must have sat down
on the couch to the right of Brandon. He must be a pretty big guy based on
how much the couch moved when he sat down. I sat quietly in my stinky
prison as I listened to them talk.

"Dude, work fucking sucked today. I thought I was gonna get off on time to
watch the whole game, but then a whole bunch of people showed up right
before I was supposed to get off. Dumbass manager made me stay and wait on
people through almost the whole game," Nick complained.

"At least you made it right before the end. It's been a close one man. I
hope they can pull it out here," said Brandon.

Not being much into sports, I couldn't have cared less who won. I just
wanted the game to end so that hopefully Brandon would let me out of this
horrific prison. I sat there in silence, listening to the game in the
background. Clearly the two guys were very into the game. I had no idea
what was going on.

"Yes! Yes! Touchdown! They got it!" shouted Brandon. Nick started shouting
similar phrases of excitement and I heard them high-five each other. While
I couldn't see anything, it was incredibly clear that their team scored and
they were both ridiculously excited about it. Good, hopefully that means
it's over.

No such luck. They both calmed down and I heard the announcer on the TV
stating that the post-game show was starting now. How long is a post-game
show?

"Dude, I told you they were gonna pull it out," Brandon said. "Smith always
pulls it out in the end. Remember the game two weeks ago when..." I was
focusing on Brandon's conversation and was completely surprised when he let
a long, airy, silent fart rip right on my nose. He just continued his
conversation with Nick like nothing happened. "...was awesome. He'll pull
it in the next one against Green Bay too, I bet."

Brandon must have planned that. He cleverly ripped a nasty fart up my nose
under the blanket while he was in mid-sentence so Nick wouldn't hear it. I
struggled not to make any noise as the eggy stench wandered up my nose. I
got in one or two full breaths of the awful odor when Brandon suddenly
moved forward, completely covering my entire face.

I heard some murmuring so I know that he was talking with Nick, but I
couldn't make out any of the words since my whole head was completely
covered. I realized that with the way he was sitting, I had no way to
breathe in at all. Not that I'd really want to after that awful fart, but I
was getting very desperate. I tried my best not to make any noise and not
to struggle too much against my restraints so that Nick wouldn't know I was
down there. After about a minute of holding my breath, my vision started to
go slowly turn from black to grey... small squares and other shapes began
to appear in my vision... I sat there silently, accepting my fate of
blacking out when Brandon suddenly shifted back a little bit on the couch,
allowing me to breathe through my nose. I took a huge, deep breath through
my nose to recover air and got annihilated by the eggy smell of his last
disgusting fart. While I tried my best not to gag, the huge breath of
sulfuric air was too much for me. My eyes started to tear up and I began to
cough.

"Dude, what was that?" asked Nick.

"Man, you aren't gonna believe it if I tell you," said Brandon.

"Try me."

With that, Brandon stood up, using the blanket to cover his nude lower body
from his friend. And there, left exposed and open for Nick to see, was my
face. My poor face, with my mouth duck taped shut and a look of horror in
my eyes. I looked over to see a big guy to my side staring down at me with
a look is disbelief on his face.

"What the fuck is going on here?" questioned Nick. "And dude, what the hell
is that smell? It smells like someone died in here!" Nick quickly starting
fanning the foul air away from his face.

Brandon laughed a little when Nick asked that last question. He must really
think the smell of his farts is hilarious. He answered Nick pretty quickly.

"Nick, this guy is from my English class. He's a fag and I caught him
checking me out. I decided that since my brothers were going out of town
for the weekend, I'd invite him over and have some fun. I rigged up this
couch, and then put him in here once I had him under my control. I figured
I should teach him a lesson for checking me out and thinking he could get
with a guy like me! He was supposed to stay quiet down there, but clearly
he doesn't know how to do that. Oh, and that smell is from my ass man. The
fag has been in a dutch oven down there since before you got here and all
the air just escaped when I stood up. I had some nasty gas today from my
protein shake and these beers haven't been helping much."

Nick started laughing at the last part of Brandon's statement. "Dude, you
always have nasty gas. I can hardly handle that shit from across the
room. You're gonna kill him doing stuff like that. Does he actually like it
or something?"

Brandon replied, "I don't really give a shit if he likes it. He should have
known better than to think he had a chance with me. I'm just doing what I
want to do now."

Nick looked partly intrigued, partly confused, and partly disgusted. "I
dunno man, this is pretty messed up. Are you sure it's not gonna kill him
or anything? We could get in some serious trouble if anything happens."

"Nah, man, we're just having fun. You should try it out. You aren't gonna
get another chance to do this if you pass it up."

I could see Nick weighing the pros and cons of the situation. After about
thirty seconds of silent contemplation, his face lit up and he looked over
at Brandon. "Well, I'm not sure about the fart thing. I don't wanna crush
him and hurt him or anything. But it could be fun to make him smell my
sweaty socks and rank feet and see if he can handle it. I had a long day at
work today and I know they are always pretty foul when I get off. Probably
almost as bad as your farts, I bet."

"That's the spirit, bro. Why don't you put your feet up and take a load
off?"

It was at this moment that I knew I wasn't going to be getting out of this
couch and away from this torture any time soon.

[Thanks to everyone for all of the emails and comments! I appreciate all of
the positive feedback -- let me know if you have comments about this
chapter or more suggestions. phonebook715@yahoo.com]