Gassy Girlfriend
by mellowmarshmallow

My girlfriend has always had what you might call a bit of a gas problem. Since birth, she has had a rare digestive disorder that causes her body to produce more gas than average. I never told her, but I always found her flatulence attractive. I had no idea why I had such a fetish, and I had no intent on telling her – not right now, at least – she would think I’m some kind of freak. At least, I had no intent on telling her until that fateful night a couple years ago.

My phone rang. “Hello?” I answered. I immediately recognized her voice. “Oh, hey, Anne,” I spoke.

“Hey, listen,” she said to me, “I have a surprise for you. Think you can come over and check it out?” she asked.

“Sure,” I accepted, “When do you need me over?” I asked.

“Can you come now?” she asked, sounding somewhat playful. “I really think you’ll like this.”

“Uh…alright, I’m on my way…” I dumbly said before hanging up. What was the surprise? I pondered the possibilities to myself. I walked out of the apartment and into the cold night street. After absent-mindedly walking for a couple of blocks, focusing on the big surprise, I stumbled upon her residence. She lived in a cozy house her parents had built near theirs.

I knocked on the door. “Hey,” she said, showing me her friendly grin.

“Hey,” I responded. I gave her a friendly grin back. I noticed her beautiful long blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes. While she was a highly attractive girl, many men were put off of her due to her tomboyish nature and gas problem. However, those qualities only strengthened my attraction to her.

“So,” I asked, “What’s the surprise?”

She eagerly took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom. On the way, we passed her kitchen, and I noticed a couple empty cans of beans in the garbage. She motioned for me to lay in her bed as she locked the door behind her.

She removed her jeans and tossed them aside, revealing her bright pink panties. “So…” she began, “Is there any reason why you didn’t tell me about your little fetish?” she asked.

“Wh—what fetish?” I asked. How did she know? I was so nervous I could have sworn all the butterflies in the world took up residence in my stomach.

“Don’t play dumb,” she said dismissively, approaching my spot on the bed, “I know how you feel about my farts,” she said.

She sat on me, straddling my chest. Her butt was inches from my face and I was already turned on – she had a great butt.

“I…I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” I insisted.

“I’m so gassy,” she said, ignoring my obvious lie. She rubbed her belly a little, leaving me to admire her sexy butt for a few moments. Then, without warning, she blasted an intensely loud fart. “Aah,” she said, sounding relieved as I admired the smell. She farted again, this one somewhat quieter, but stronger smelling. As the scent flowed into my nostrils, she stood up and faced me.

“Do you want some more?” she asked me in that familiar playful voice of hers. I weakly nodded. She smiled. “Okay,” she said, seductively. “Just admit that you have a fart fetish and I’ll do it some more,” she challengingly grinned.

“Alright, I have a fart fetish,” I reluctantly admitted. She smiled at me, glad that she was right. “Just one thing – how did you know?” I asked.

“Oh, come on,” she said, “it’s not like it was a secret. For one, only a fart fetishist or a really nice guy would date a girl who farts as much as me,” she said. I blushed. “Don’t worry, I think you’re both,” she quickly added. “For another, you kind of spaced out and seemed eager to smell my farts when I did it around you. Anyway, I’m a woman of my word, so…” she trailed off. She sat on me again, this time on my face. A loud, long fart sounded from her bottom and the heavenly aroma met my nose. She continued to fart countless times. After what I could have sworn was her fiftieth fart, she stood up again.

“Sorry, out of gas,” she apologized. “You can sleep in here with me tonight,” she said. With that, the two of us got ready to go to bed after her long night of farting. After we were ready, we hopped in bed.

“That was some great farting earlier, you were amazing,” I complimented. “In fact, it still smells strong in here!”

“Thanks,” she embarrassedly smiled.

“So you don’t think I’m a freak for having this fetish?” I shyly asked.

“Actually, I think it’s a good thing for both of us,” she said, “I’m naturally extremely gassy, so it’s good to have someone who appreciates that. You’re looking for someone who farts a lot and I’m the most flatulent person I know,” she declared, sounding as though she was taking pride in her gas. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think it’s a little weird that to you the sexiest thing a girl can do is fart, but I guess since it’s something I do a lot by nature, we might as well make each other happy,” she said.

“Yeah,” I agreed, “I guess it is nice how we can both appreciate each other’s…unusual qualities,” I said. “Good night,”

“Good night,” she said. “Oh, by the way,” she quickly added, “You know how I said I was out of gas earlier?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I lied!” she said, pulling the covers over my head and farting, giving me a Dutch oven. She farted a couple more times until we were both asleep. We would have similar flatulence filled nights in the future. Those were nights that I looked forward to, and something tells me she liked them, too.