Date: Sat, 12 Jan 2019 11:05:37 -0600
From: Joe Schmo <hairybuttlover@gmail.com>
Subject: In the Speed Dating Booth

This story is for 18+, is fictional, and is about fart sniffing. If any of
this is a problem, don't read.

...

A guy learns about his best friend's gross fetish and decides to put it to
good use.

...

Kevin came into my room frantic, his face red

"Oh, hey dude," I said, my book still in hand. It took me a minute to
register how frazzled he was acting. He had a nervous twitch going on and
he started speaking rapidly,

"Listen, we've been friends for a long time, right?" He had his hands up.

Since back in high school, "yeah?"

"And we can be open with each other, right?"

"Of course," I put the book down. Kevin is one of the chillest guys I know,
so seeing him on edge like this made me frown.

"Ok," he started pacing, which he usually did to help him think something
out, "So, I signed up for a booth at the speed dating fair."

Oh, this is about girls; that explains it. Every year, our college sets up
a "speed dating fair", where they have a bunch of booths around the gym,
and you'd sign up to stand at a booth and others would circulate and have
like 5 minute convos with you. It was just a fun way to get single people
on campus to know each other.

"That's great, Kev," I put on a half smile. Maybe there was some jealousy
behind it. I don't know, I've known Kevin for years and couldn't help but
develop a little crush on him. It's dumb, because he's straight, so there's
no point in wishing. I should be happy he's putting himself out there,
"Good for you. I'm sure you'll meet a lot of cool girls."

"Yeah, but here's the thing," he started rubbing the back of his head, "The
problem...you know how I'm always gassy?'

This perked my ears up. Kevin was always farting, and they always
embarrassed him. I would laugh and tell him I didn't care and he could rip
in front of me, but he always tried to keep them quiet and would blush.
He's cute like that. But there's another thing that Kevin doesn't know
about me; my massive fart fetish. I have no idea how it came to be, but
there's nothing I find hotter than having my face pressed into a man's ass
while he rips farts up my nose. Or, at least, that's what I'd want to
happen with me some day. Despite my desires, I've never opened up to anyone
about these weird fantasies. I laughed, `Dude, if you feel gassy, just hold
them in. Or take beano or something, no one will notice at the fair if
that's what's freaking you out,"

"It's not just that," he explained, "I always get even more gassy when I'm
nervous or anxious, and worrying about letting one slip will make me even
more anxious, and it's a vicious cycle that will make so much gas build up,
I'm sure I'll accidentally slip one out and it will make a huge noise or it
will smell bad and everyone will laugh at me."

"Dude, I think you're overreacting-," I chuckled

"Dillon," His voice was serious, "I need your help."

He always called me "Dill Pickle", he never used my full name unless he was
serious, which wasn't common. But how could I possibly help him, "What are
you talking about? Other than recommending some kind of pills and saying
`don't eat gassy foods', there's not much I can - ,"
"I know about your..." he paused, before adding, "fetish"

I raised an eyebrow. On the outside, my face was blank, but on the inside,
I was screaming. This had to be a joke, right? There's no way he could have
found out; I'm always so careful about it. He looked uncomfortable, more so
than when he walked in. He furrowed his eyebrows and started rubbing the
bridge of his nose. He looked so cute, his messy black hair and stubble,
when he seemed concerned. But I still didn't know what he was talking
about. After an awkward pause, he said,

"I know you like farts."

Then my eyes widened. He couldn't know that, could he? I forced out a
laugh, "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to play dumb," I felt my face get red, he continued, "I've
borrowed your laptop before; your YouTube watch history is full of videos
of guys farting on each other, a lot of `atomic sit-ups', like where guys
are pranked into doing a sit up and smacking their faces into their buddy's
asses, your history links to a lot of stories about fart sniffing, fart
slaves, other fetish stuff... no offense, but your porn video history is just
flat out disgusting." He let out a nervous laugh.

I felt like my stomach was about to come up out of my mouth, and I could
barely breath. He knew?! All this time he knew how weird I was and didn't'
say anything?! Why didn't he bring it up ever? And why is he telling me
this now?! I felt my hands tremble on my legs. I wanted to say something,
defend myself, but I couldn't speak; I sat there in shock.

"Look dude, I don't care," He brought his hands up, "I don't care that
you're gay or that your into this kind of stuff. Different strokes for
different folks, right? If it makes you feel better, I'll tell you my
fetish: I like women's feet. I want to rub them, massage them, sniff their
socks, kiss their soles, and suck on their toes. There; now we're even. Now
let me finish, because I have a plan that will help me with my problem, and
I think you would love to be a part of it."

My head was spinning. I was still flabbergasted by the fact that he found
out about my fetish. I thought I was so careful! But also I was curious as
to what the possible fuck he would even to bring this up for.

"You know how there are booths against the wall, and those have like this
weird curtain thing around them? Well in case you don't know, they set up
the booths to go around the edge of the individual sections. I remember
going to the fair last year, and it looks like no one can see beyond the
middle of the person's belly when they stand there."

I remember going to the fair with him, and yeah, they were tall booths. I
still had no idea where he was going with this, or what this had to do with
me.

"Alright, so here's my proposal," He coughed, still shaking, "And I know
this sounds weird, but again, I think you'll like it and we can both
benefit from it: I want you to be my fart vacuum."

My eyebrow was still raised, and my heart was racing, "...what does that even
mean?"

"Instead of holding them in, I'm going to let them out. Really soft and
quiet. There's music, so unless I have a really big fart, no one will hear
me pass gas. And as long as there's a constant stream of gas seeping out,
there won't be a chance to let out a huge, audible one. That would be fine
enough, but thanks to the curtain holding them down there, there's a good
chance that any sudden movement will open a hole or something and all that
nasty gas will seep out and it'll be obvious to any girl who walks by that
I've been ripping ass for the past hour or whatever."

I felt my cock twitch in my pants.

He continued, "That's where you come in; I want you to hide behind the
booth; no one will see you. And here's how I thought it out. You'll be
crouching behind me. When I need to pass gas, I'll lean forward and stick
my butt toward you. Then, I want you to press your face against my ass, as
tight as you can so none of it gets out, and I want you to sniff up all of
the gas until there's no scent left. Or breathe it in your mouth, I don't
care what you do so long as you're the only one who smells it. The event
lasts two hours, so we'll need to get there before they set up, and stay
after they leave."

My cock was rock hard. I couldn't believe this was actually happening, that
my best friend [how many times have I fantasized about him? How many times
did I jerk off to the idea of burying my face into his gassy ass?], was
actually giving me the offer of a lifetime! He walked right up in front of
me, turned around, and bent over.

"You interested? If so, I really need to fart right now, and we could both
use practice being as quiet as we can so no one finds out about this. If
you are, get down here now and let's start training. If not, I understand."

There was a bit of an awkward pause, with Kevin looking over his shoulder
at me, frozen, seeing what I'd do. His butt was hugged by his jeans...it
looked so hot from this angle. My cock was rising in my pants. Once in a
lifetime, why pass it up?
I jumped down to my knees and nearly dove face-first in between my best
friend's ass cheeks. The fart he let out was short, but airy. There was a
bit of a prrrp coming out. It puffed against my face. His cheeks jiggled a
bit against my cheeks, I brought my hands up and grabbed onto his waist,
squeezing it as I snorted up deeply, vulgarly. Normally I would be too
embarrassed to act like this, but if my friend knew I was a filthy fart
sniffer, I didn't have reason to pretend I wasn't. I sighed, shaking, my
face burning with lust, still pressed up into his butt, "Oh, fuck," I
moaned. His fart lingered in the fabric of his jeans, the scent of a man's
musky ass.

Kevin chucked, "Looks like we both need to practice being quieter. The
event is a month away so we only have one month to practice getting this
right. I feel another one, so stay there, let's try again."

He let out another fart. This one was silent, not too deadly. I snorted it
up, trying as hard as I could not to moan out again. I couldn't believe
this was really happening! I was training to be my gassy best friend's
personal fart vacuum!!!

...

Over the next month, Kevin would come by a few times a week to hang out.
Every time I got a text asking "Wanna practice tonight?" I'd reply "Yes" as
fast as my fingers could type. And while he was over, every time he'd have
to fart, he'd let me know it's time to practice. I'd drop whatever I was
doing, crawl behind him to his jeans or sweatpants clad ass, which he would
stick out when bending over, and press my face into it. He'd leak out some
rank ass fumes, each day he was getting better at letting them go silently,
and I would lightly, but constantly, sniff them up. I'd stay there until
all of the fart fragrance was gone. Even though they were pretty rough on
the nose, I could feel my cock leak precum in my underwear. I was in
heaven. I wanted to propose to him...if only he were gay.

A few weeks in, I started to feel bad because I realized that I was hanging
out with him way more than I used to, only so I could suck up his farts.
Even though it was his idea, and this was my way of helping him out, I
couldn't help but feel like I was using him. One night, after "suffering"
through an unusually long stream of gas, I pulled away from his butt and
asked him,

"Why are you doing this for me? Aren't you grossed out?"

"Well, a little, I guess," He admitted, "But I don't mind farting on you if
you like it this much. I mean, I think of it like this: if I were a girl,
and was friends with a guy like me who also had a thing for feet, and we
were really close, I'd let him play with my feet. Even if I'm not
interested, and if we're just friends, I wouldn't be that weirded out by
him because, well, foot play wouldn't be that sexual for me. And as I am
now, if I had a friend, a girl with really nice feet who wore cute socks,
and she knew about my fetish but never let me come close, I would go crazy.
So, farting on you just feels like I'm helping you out, the same way you'll
be helping me out by hiding all of my gas from the cute girls at the fair.
That's what friends are for, right? We got each other's backs."

That was the most unusual and convoluted reasoning I could have asked for,
but I was getting facefuls of infinite farts, so why push my luck and
complain.

He added, "Besides," then he held the back of my head and roughly pushed
his butt back into my face. It was so sudden, I couldn't react until after
he ripped a pretty loud beast on my nose,

PPRPRREPRPRERPERTI

I heard him laugh while I coughed and groaned, "This is hilarious to watch!"

"Fuck man," I laughed into his cheeks, "That was nasty!"

"You're welcome." I looked up and saw he was looking behind at me and
smiling, "Now enough goofing off; we only have a week to get this down
right."

...

The day of the fair, my face was flushed and I couldn't focus during any of
the lectures. It was a Friday, and I noticed a lot of the kids around me
were also having a tough time paying attention to the professor. Sure, they
were probably excited about all kinds of parties that would go down
tonight, but I didn't think any of them had something better than I did to
look forward to.

The fair was going to last from 6 to 8pm, but like Kevin said, I would have
to go earlier so I could sneak into his booth unnoticed. I had on my
hoodie, a t-shirt, and sweatpants; If I were going to be sitting around for
hours down there, I had to be comfy. My pockets were stuffed with old
socks, that I would use to masturbate into. To be honest, this whole
arrangement has been ruining my life. I say that jokingly. What I mean is,
I've spent so much more time masturbating than I used to because Kevin's
farting ass against my face has been driving me up the wall. Every time I
have to sniff one, my dick gets so hard expecting a release. I feel awkward
touching myself around him, so I have to wait until after he leaves to go
to town down there. I've been cumming three times a day on average to the
memories of each fart of the day.

Even though I never brought up my boners, I'm sure he probably saw me
sprout wood here and there, and so the day before the fair, he told me,
"Hey Dill Pickle, I know this is kind of awkward, but if I were in your
position, I'd probably lose my mind if I didn't touch myself once.
Like...nearly three or four hours of this without cumming? I couldn't do it.
So, I guess as long as you're quiet and careful and don't make a mess or
something, and as long as I don't see it, you can jerk off down there, if
you want. Just don't tell me if you're going to, cuz that might weird me
out."

I nodded with a blank expression, but on the inside my heart was going
wild, "Ok, Kevin."

So, pockets full of jizz socks, I took a few breaths to calm down. Sure I
was excited, but I was also terrified. If something went wrong and we were
caught, I'd be the laughing stock of the school. Who knows how much trouble
we'd get in for doing this weird sexual stuff in public? But I was so
excited...I couldn't wait to begin.

I headed to the gym at around 5:15, check in wasn't going to start until
5:30, so hopefully no one would be there yet. I walked down the blank white
hall and turned into the arena. As I thought, there were only a few people
doing last minute set ups, but they were on the other end and faced away
from me. Sneaking up to a clipboard, I looked for Kevin's name and assigned
booth. Each row was labeled A to G, with those two being on either end of
the wall. Kevin was going to be at G7, which was on my end of the gym.
Perfect. I tip toed behind the booths, behind the curtains that were set up
to give the space a more "enclosed" feeling, found G7, and got onto my
hands and knees to crawl in. The gym floor was dusty, but over all, not a
big deal. I looked up and saw the ceiling but not much else. I knew that,
as Kevin predicted, no one would be able to see me down here unless they
were up in the rafters looking straight down. My dick was rising in
anticipation.

I sat there, impatient, while the gym slowly started to fill with clamor of
chatting voices. People were signing into their booths. Oh god, what if I
was in the wrong booth? I'd just have to make up an excuse; "Sorry, I
thought you were my friend, I was just gonna scare him." I kept my fingers
crossed.

The curtain rustled, and Kevin walked in. He was looking slick in all
black: black shirt tucked into black pants with black shoes. He never
dressed up, so I couldn't help but smile. He even shaved his stubble and
gelled his hair. He must really be trying to give off a good impression. I
could even smell cologne from down here. As nice as it was, I much
preferred the smell of colon.

"How do I look?" He muttered, then turned as if he were looking for
someone. His butt looked so beefy from the tight pants and the tucked in
shirt. Of course I had a hard on.

"Like Adonis." I whispered back. He smirked.

I asked, "How are you feeling?"

He whispered, "Scared."

"Dude," I whispered, "You'll be fine. You're a cool guy, you have nothing
to be scared about. You're cool, you look cool, all of the girls are gonna
line up to get your number."

He smirked again, "You're just saying that because you love my farty
butthole."

"That's beside the point!" I tried not to laugh. I couldn't believe how
lucky I was to have a friend like him. He walked to the front of the booth,
giving me enough room to crawl behind him. I stared at his ass, which was
at the same level as my face. I had never been more aroused in my life.

Waiting for this night to begin was one of the longer half hours I had to
go through. I just wanted to get my face into his butt already, but unless
he had to fart, there was no reason to. Luckily, he seemed to be having
some butterflies in his belly, because before the event started, he leaned
forward. From the outside, it would look like he was just bored. On the
inside, I nuzzled my face between his cheeks. Not a false alarm: I could
smell faint eggs, and his butt grew warm against my skin. Definitely the
first fart of the evening. I sniffed it up.

A man's voice chimed from the PA system, "Good evening, ladies and gents. I
hope all you singles out there are ready to mingle, because this year's
Speed Dating Fair has officially begun" There was a collective whoop from
the crowd.

Once the fair began I was surprised just how much he farted. He really
wasn't kidding when he said that he gets gassy when nervous. Each girl
would come up to the booth for five minute, and sure enough, for each one
he would lean forward and stick his butt toward me. Of course I was being
the best fart vacuum I could be, and even though my dick was rock hard, I
didn't' dare touch myself yet. I only had so many socks to use, and I
didn't want to blow through all of them at the beginning.

When the five minutes were up, a little bell would play and single everyone
to move over. I heard Kevin chatting, saying his goodbyes, laughing at
jokes, making jokes, talk about his interests over and over. It was so
routine, it sounded like he rehearsed what he was going to say. I didn't
realize just how scared Kevin was to put himself out there like this. I
could feel him tremble every once and a while. I stroked the side of his
thigh, hoping it would calm him down. But of course, my main focus was on
his beautiful ass. After what felt like ages, my dick couldn't take it
anymore. If my cock were a dog, it would be yipping and whining like crazy
for his treat. I pulled out one of the socks and put it on over my
throbbing hot cock. I stroked myself as Kevin leaned in for what felt like
the hundredth time.

Needless to say, I had shot my load before the bell rang. As the night went
on, I knew Kevin finally starting to feel at ease. The conversations with
each new girl was much less predictable, more fluid. Sadly, that meant the
farts weren't coming out like they had been; either his nerves subsided or
he just finally ran out of gas. But to my surprise, he did a lot of leaning
in anyway, and I'd press my face into his butt, expecting a fart that
didn't come. I guess he wanted me to enjoy myself, while I wasn't "on duty".

I went through another sock.

The farting started up again, each one smoother than the last. Thankfully
the smell wasn't too offensive; just a day old egg mixed with ass sweat,
not too rough. It was musky enough that I had to put in a conscious effort
not to moan out.

The radio was on, like he said it would, and beyond the meet and greets, I
could hear the latest pop hits echoing in the gym. I probably wouldn't be
able to hear Ed Sheeran's voice again without getting a boner. I think
that's called Pavlovian conditioning. In front of me, Kevin started swaying
his hips to the beat of the pop song that was blasting above me, while my
face was still up in his crack. My head was swaying with his ass. I felt
like Cinderella dancing with the Prince at the ball. That thought made me
smile and I had to hold back a serious case of giggles.

And another sock down. My dick was getting sore, but my face was burning
with lust.

Maybe a little after half way through the night, Kevin left for a bathroom
break. I stayed hiding in the corner, thinking of how bizarre a direction
my life had gone. Just a month ago, I had felt embarrassed about my fetish,
and kept everything about it a secret, including my sexuality. I wasn't
even comfortable being out about being gay, just because I was afraid that
would somehow clue in on these dirty desires. Then, after just one
conversation, I feel like I'm living though something that would only
happen in some crazy fetish story, like the ones I read online. I was in a
fairy tale. If only I were a girl, I would pay Kevin back by letting him
lick my feet all night or whatever the fuck else he wanted to do.

After another hour, my dick was begging me to stop getting aroused. Sorry
buddy, I know I've been beating you up a lot, but it's worth it. A new girl
steps up, Kevin leans in again, I stuff my face into his ass and inhale,
repeat. I started to feel sad because I knew once this night was over I
wouldn't get to do something like this ever again. No point in feeling
down; I've got a hot farting ass on my face, I should rejoice!
Nearing the end of the night, I could tell that all of the previous farts
were soaking up into the fabric of his pants. The seat of his pants began
to smell worse and worse. I hoped the moisture from his farts mixed with my
breath wasn't going to stick too long. Then again, the only way someone
would tell is if they pressed their face into his ass like I had been for
the past two hours.

Finally, after another bell chime, I heard an announcer off the PA system,
"Alright, ladies and gents, I hope you all had a fabulous evening and got
to meet a lot of fun new people. Who knows, maybe tonight will be the start
of something beautiful. And I think I can say the obvious: I'm sure one of
you is getting lucky tonight" A collective laugh.

Way ahead of you, buddy.

...

Kevin and I walked back to my place afterward. We had to wait for enough
people to leave where no one would notice I was in the booth with him. I
felt pretty dirty because of all the used cum filled socks in my pockets,
and my dick was aching like crazy, but I was shaking from it all.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" He asked.

"...that was amazing, dude."

He laughed, "You dirty fuck, you're so disgusting. But you did a great job;
I didn't smell a thing."

I smiled, "I know. Did you meet a lot of girls?"

"Oh yeah," He smiled, "Tones. No surprise, a lot of them weren't interested
in me, and vice versa, but I met a few girls that I'm thinking of going on
dates with in the next few weeks."

"That's great man." I sighed

"Mind if I come over?" he asked, "I've got nothing else to do tonight but
I'm too tired to go out."

"Sure."

...

We were sitting on the couch; he had rolled his sleeves up and was drinking
the beer I gave him. I had my own beer in my hands. We were watching a
really shitty horror film on Netflix. Instead of being scared, we spent the
night making fun of the writing and the bad acting.
"I'm gonna take a piss, don't pause it." He got up. I smiled, again,
thinking of how lucky I was to have a friend like him. Any of the other
guys I knew would probably cut me out of their lives if they found out I
was such a fart pig. Again, I was wishing that one of the girls he met
tonight would let him suck and nibble on her toes; he deserves it.

Walking back to his seat, he paused right next to me and said, "Fire in the
hole!"

"What?" I turned and was face to face with his fancy-pants covered ass. He
pulled my head in and let a monster rip on me.

"Dude!" I laughed, "What the literal fuck do you eat?!"

"Lots of cheese burgers." He sat back down, smiling.

...

That night I didn't masturbate because I was convinced my dick would fall
off if I tried. I wasn't surprised when I woke up the next morning because
I dreamt he was holding me down and farting up my nose. I came in my
underwear, in my sleep. My poor cock was exhausted. He's infected my mind,
but I don't really care.