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His Mom's Bad Gas My friend warned the two of us: do not go into his mother’s office. It was a little strange to me that his mother had an office and not his father but the mom was the breadwinner of the household so she got dibs on the office inside their house. In practice both the mother and father did work inside the office but since my friend’s mom worked in business she used the office a lot more. And in general the father went along with that as well. Which brings me to that fateful day, which like all fateful days began with my sister and I visiting Jimmy’s house after school had gotten out. It was a Friday afternoon and we were looking for things to do. After playing video games for a while we got an idea to play a game of hide and seek. With us being in our teens though we thought we could be more complex and find some not-so-easy places to hide. So Jimmy began the count down as my sister and I started hiding. To this day I don’t know where my sister hid but looked around Jimmy’s two-story house for a place to start. That’s when I saw the door open to his mother’s office. It would only take a few minutes for him to find me I thought, so why not hide for a minute in the office. Walking in the office was a decent sized room, the size of a bedroom really. There were tables that had different papers for his mom’s work as well as some stuff that was his dad’s. I looked over to the large brown desk where the mother’s work computer was located. The desk looked perfect as there was a space where his mom’s swirling desk chair was tucked into the desk. Thinking that I was clever I pulled the chair out and scrunched down inside the space underneath the desk. There was a good amount of space down there where I assumed that I would be hanging out for just a few minutes before Jimmy would finally check the office. The whole warning about not going to the mother’s office I always assumed was more smuck bait than anything else. That and there was probably some work files and stuff that he didn’t want us getting into. Not that I worried too much about getting into his parent’s work, I could care less about that. I got into my position and waited there for several minutes expecting Jimmy to open up the door and quickly deduce where I was. The door finally did open, but it was not Jimmy who opened it. I heard the sound of heels come into the office and then I heard the door closed. I took a quick peek as his mom walked into the office; she looked relieved to be home. And God was she a looker. I knew this already, his mom was certainly attractive for a woman in her late 30s but at this particular moment she was even more stunning. Mrs. Morgan was an executive with a large manufacturing firm. At the age of 42 she still had the shapely body of a woman of twenty, and was dressed in her usual business suit skirt and white blouse. Her brown hair was tied up in a bun over the top of her hair; it was styled nicely, professional to represent the woman as she was. Her face was cleaned up with makeup on. Her breasts were eye watering, giant grapefruits pushing out against a bra that was a different shade of white from her blouse. The top two buttons were removed as she didn’t have the adequate size of blouse to fully contain her breasts. Jimmy was lucky and he knew it, my mother was nothing compared to Mrs. Morgan, this woman had the body of a goddess and I think just about everyone knew it. But it was below her waist where her body showcased its best feature; of course it was her ass. I had caught Mrs. Morgan working out in the family’s basement weight room, which had been originally built for Jimmy to train for sports. She seemed to use it far more often and her body was well tone for a woman her age. This working out built her a tremendously large ass. It wasn’t something from a rap video, but these cheeks were still pretty massive, at least 30 inches around at their widest girth. Her cheeks pressed up against her skirt, which was conformed to fit around the mountainous rump that this formidable woman possessed. Her skirt was pretty short, only so much could cover that wallop of buttock that hovered around her lower waist. She wore a thin pair of pantyhose that exposed me to the smell of her overworked feet as she threw her heels off. My vantage point was able to ogle at her amazing body for just a few seconds, they then walked over toward the desk and I realized that she was going into the office to stay in it. I moved back up toward the wall as I waited in a fairly dark space underneath the desk. There was no mistake, I was trapped but that didn’t matter for the moment as I saw her pull out the chair sit her ass on it. I could hear the compression of all that fabric as pounds upon pounds of ass sapped all the air out of the cushions to rest her comfortable caboose. She scooted her chair in and her knee was an inch from my face, so close that I had to turn my head so that she couldn’t feel my breath. At the moment it would seem that she did not know that I was there. That’s when I started to smell it, the smell of a powerful woman just getting home from work. It was the smell of sweat and dedication, the sweat of someone who had been working all day, being busy and important, the smell of Mrs. Morgan. I suppose it’s the time to admit that I have a wavering admiration for this woman, more than that; I’m actually turned on by it. It was the classic scenario of a boy loving a woman, that four letter acronym people throw around a lot, that same thing. And while the situation that brought me here was not planned I had to admit that I loved what I was seeing. The way she was seated on that chair I had a clear view straight into her skirt. It was so tight against her large ass that there was a three-inch wide opening from the bottom of the top which gave you a beautiful view deep into her panted behind. I could see more butt flesh than panties though, they must have eaten them up like the large cheeks they are. Already, I could smell the intoxicating, enticing smell of her pussy wafting out from underneath it. It was strong and pleasant, and I could tell that she must have been worked up for quite a while to exude such a potent scent. The odor of her sweaty ass hovered close, an almost palpable fog, yet tantalizingly, teasingly just out of reach. I was close, so very close, yet also so far away. I was completely under her control. I suddenly liked being here underneath the desk, and with the mom’s office considered out of bounds in the hide and seek game I knew they wouldn’t look in here for a while. I could just sit here, huddling in the heat of this radiant and proud woman. The smell of her overworking slowly faded away as I became acclimatized to it. I would hear her typing on her keyboard above as she started to get to work; there wasn’t much for the first minute or so before I heard it. It was a gurgling sound, like something bubbling up. I thought it was my stomach but I couldn’t make a positive match to that so I deduced the sound had to be coming from Mrs. Morgan. I heard her type for another minute before the gurgling sound returned, this time in greater number. I heard the typing stop and that was when I saw movement with her body. There was a rush of wind as she leaned the upper part of her body over toward her left. I heard the chair scrunch up a little as additional pressure was being applied with her left buttock. Her right buttock was lifting up just a little. I could already smell a small taste of what she had cooking just before she broke my innocence of her being a sweet and innocent woman. BBBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmffffffffffffffffffftttttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!! With her ass pressed deep against her comfy chair I heard Mrs. Morgan do something I would have never imagined her doing, cut a fart. For what I guessed was almost seven seconds in length she ripped a fart that sounded as worthy as that coming from any guy. It was a whoopee cushion going off kind of sound, a bubbly blast of wind that was amplified a bit by the fabric of her chair, causing it to echo in a smaller region. Being confined by her skirt, the chair and the small amount of space (relatively) underneath her desk the fart carried its sweet bubbly release in a concentrated area. It was the sound of a woman that had to relieve some tension inside of her, just hearing it bubble out of her asshole I knew that it must have been relieving for her to blast this fart. It was no matter; her secret was safe with me. I considered myself lucky to have witness Mrs. Morgan at such an intimate moment; here she was releasing a fart that honestly was ten times better than any Jimmy could muster up, this thing sounded amazing. And then it hit me. Why did she eat? The opening in her skirt had exposed me to a new kind of aroma, one far smellier and stronger than the musky sweat smell of a few minutes ago. That innocent smell had gone away and was replaced with something that was cooked up in a science chemistry lab. The closed quarters of my location suddenly became a hindrance as I received a too-healthy dose of Mrs. Morgan’s gas and she was not fooling around at producing the kinds of farts that truly, utterly stunk. I had to look around for the right way to describe how nasty this fart had smelled, the smell was like that of sulfur had fireworks had been burst off in the air, that mixed in with the highly intoxicating aroma of eggs. Together they created a smell that made my eyes water, ridiculously so. My nose was getting stuffy immediately as it tried its best to inhale such a rich odor and my head was getting a little weak. She blasted that deadly egg-smelling aroma directly at me, my clothes would reek of her nastiness for the rest of the evening, and this was only her FIRST fart. “Oh my.” I heard Mrs. Morgan giggle as she must have caught a whiff of that last one. Smelling a fart from Jimmy’s mom was an experience I would soon not forget. This first fart was an eye-opener, hell it was a world-opener. She was a beautiful woman, a proud woman and an amazing woman. She cared for her family and was very nice to me; she was the mother I always wished I had. Not that mine wasn’t a great mother, she was, but Mrs. Morgan was a great woman, a goddess among woman. Many lifetimes could come and go before you met a more formidable and amazing woman such as Mrs. Morgan. And I was smelling her fart right this moment. Deep underneath her desk I was inhaling it all. She pushed her legs in just a little bit further and that’s when I was able to feel the heat radiating from her legs and feet. She had taken her shoes off and tossed them into a small corner. Now the musky smell became even stronger, she was a walker, and the sweat off her pantyhose-covered feet was mixing in with the already incredible aroma of her flatulence. And she was just getting started. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbppppppppppppttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!! “Thank God I’m alone.” She commented to herself as she took in a whiff of her gas. Immediately, and out of nowhere she leaned over again, this time to her right and pushed out another wet and juicy whopper of a fart. The fart sounded a little bit bigger than the previous one, with a wet sloppy sound as it rumbled its out of her asshole. Clearly Mrs. Morgan’s farts were not to be underestimated the first one might have been a fluke but this one meant as much business as the last one. From such an intimate location, a few inches even closer to the source of the radioactivity that was this proud woman’s biological digestion at work, the smell was twice as powerful and rich as before. I could feel it everywhere, a minuscular weather complex was forming underneath her desk and I was given front row seats to it. I could feel the temperature rise, that was already the case underneath her desk but now more than ever, the energy it caused to generate such a fat ripper of a fart ensured that the warmth there was doubling as she continued to push out the fart. And then there was the length, almost eight, even nine seconds in length. There was something magical about her ripping a fart, and of such length. Until this day the longest fart I’d probably heard came from my father and it was a fat toot that went on for a couple of seconds. It still stunk as hell but I knew the reality was that farts of the length that Mrs. Morgan was releasing was more the exception rather than the rule. That long length did have a consequence however, the smell was being pumped out of her bowels for the same amount and believe me, it was hellish to inhale. I had never been so close to a farting ass such as hers so the experience was completely alien to me. My olfactory senses were overwhelmed with the smell of rotten sulfur, picked up on such a high concentration that it was overwhelming. I breathed in one burst of it after another and each breathe was as sucky to taste as the last. The air in that cramp space grew denser with humidity, a particular strong brand of it that was the combination of foot sweat and strong fart smell. The fart smell was the most powerful though; it hung around as it caused my eyes to become red and my nose to get stuffy. Mrs. Morgan was producing gas on such a high caliber that I wouldn’t be surprised that she could win an award for such vileness. There was a sigh from her up above as her ass went back down on the seat. Pushing even more leftover gas my way, I was now trapped underneath her desk smelling the rancid fumes of her gas. Not to put a finer point on it, but this was not ordinary gas. This wasn’t the stuff that would appear in farting jokes or cheap sound effects; this was something far stronger, far more intimate and superior. And it was doing something to me, it was rewiring my mind in its already glorified view of this woman, this mother who was giving birth to something that I, for the first time in my life, was thinking of more sanctified than her own son and daughter. They were kids, living and breathing on their own, but this was something that commanded respect and authority. It would not be surprised if she used such gas to get her kids to straighten up, I certainly would have behaved better if I knew something like this could leave my own mother’s behind. I know, I’m 17 years old, how could I have these feelings about Mrs. Morgan. It went back years, ever since I first started hanging out with Jimmy, it was there, boiling over in me but never coming up to the surface, I was too respectful not to start whamming to him about how hot his mother was. But he knew it as well; he knew what some people felt about her. But I never suspected he felt that way with me, I hid it to well. But I was amazed that the grandeur and spectacle of his mother. She remained seated there as the smell of her last fart started to flow freely around my space, swirling around endlessly as the engine inside her stomach continued churning a full throttle. I could hear the bubbling inside of it as if there was more gas being brewed inside. And that was on top of the fact that it was getting warm in here and the smell of her gas was not going away any time fast. I heard her typing on the keyboard of her computer some more. It was important to remember than despite this gassy bout this was still a woman hard at work. She was an executive, someone who had to put in the effort on a regular basis at her job. This involved countless hours probably spent there when she could have been with her kids and husband. There was something to admire behind that, I imagine that was just my view on the matter. I had a thing for strong women, those who could do things for themselves, who did not need any help or male involvement. Mrs. Morgan was her own woman through and through. And after such a long day at the office I could guess that she simply had a backlog of gas within her that was just itching to get out of her. While I may have been warming up, literally, to the fact that she was just like any other ordinary human and had to fart, I would guess that her male coworkers wouldn’t be as accommodating to her just blasting them off like this at work, the smell was just not right. Finally, there was the first contact with the outside world. The door opened and it was Jimmy. “Hey mom….whoa….” He cried out, loud enough for me to hear him. It was obvious that he could smell the gas from there; her room office must have stunk proudly of her gas. “Oh Jimmy, I wouldn’t come within 20 feet of me right now.” She said laughing as Jimmy agreed full heartedly. “God that’s horrible! I’m sorry but…COUGH…COUGH…you’ve seen Caleb in here.” “No I haven’t.” She replied as I heard the door to the office closed. She sighed to herself as she felt the newest wave of her gas arrive. She lifted her ass off the seat, pressing her manicured hands against the seat and lifting her ass an inch off the seat, this one had to be a beauty. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr PPPPPPPPPPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrppppppppppbbbbtttttttttttttt!!!!! PPPPPPPPPPPPllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaappppppppppppssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssstttt!!!!!!! Whoa momma! She may have been an ordinary human but her farts were far from ordinary. With her hands pressing down on the seat she produced a small bomb of gas that blew a deep bellowing roar into the cushion. I could practically feel the air around me vibrate as her fart generated a large amount of sound. My ears could hear it, the equivalent of a lion’s roar, deep into the seat and echoing off the wooden sides of the desk around me. And the fart went on for quite some time, maybe 15 seconds in whole, I started counting it just to see how much this woman was really cutting the cheese. But the remarkable bit was her blasting out two more farts right after that. She must have been packing some highly dangerous levels of gas within her to able to create such a prolonged release like this. It was official now, I had never heard anyone let out farts like these before, Mrs. Morgan stood in a class by herself. And that was just as the smell was starting to come in, it was getting worse. This woman was slowly building up a more stinky concoction of gas that was really breathtaking. With the skirt open as it was I got the full dosage of this gas, this stuff blew out like a desk fan of hot and wretchedly smelling gas, straight into my face as her fart sounded around. I heard her cough after she was finished with these; the smell was so voluminous that it clearly had reached her nose. It must have stunk up her entire office. There was something about her flatulence that was really profound. It was finally in the smell that I did notice one particular odor, hovering and lording supreme over the rest, that of broccoli. She must have eaten broccoli, a metric ton of broccoli. Some kind of superfood variety of broccoli, filled with all the lovely nutrients that fueled her body and its majestic curves but also created a devastating noxious mixture of gas that was smelling of something that died inside of her. My eyes were trying their best to see through the thick sulfuric fog of her flatulence. The space where I was was oversaturated with the rotten aroma of her gas. There was nowhere for it to go, it just hung around, a thick residue of gas that was coalescing into an even stronger haze of stinkiness that would take a long time to go away, this was the kind of fart that she could still smell ten minutes later with great pungency. And that was if she didn’t have to fart again…. PPPPPPPPPbbbbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttt!!!!! BBBBBBBBBBBaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppp!!!! PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPppppppppppppoooooooooooppppppppppppppttttttttttt!!!!!! Which wasn’t happening. Lifting her ass over her seat Mrs. Morgan farted once again and my mind was being blown, both aromically and mentally as she tooted her next three farts. Something was wrong with this woman, this beautiful woman, she wasn’t just farting, she had a major case of gas! This 42 year old woman was doing something that I had only seen done in comedy films, and she was doing it with incredible ease. Her stomach must have been stirring with something powerfully potent to be able to continually release gas at this caliber. In this particular case, her farts weren’t breaking any records, not after her longer ones previously, but it was the frequency that was now grabbing my attention. My friend could have farted once and it would have been a case to laugh about, but now she was doing that, plus another and another and with little effort. And on top of that the broccoli smell was escalating; I could smell now even more, my mind could think of only one thing, the smell. It might have been the fact that she was an older woman, perhaps being in her 40s gave her the ability to do something incredible with her gas. The older she got, the stronger the gas became and the more it matured into something truly remarkable. It wasn’t just broccoli that I smelled, it was rotten broccoli. That foul vegetable had been boiling inside her guts for what was probably hours and all that time allowed for her body to make wonderful work of it. It helped create a gaseous substance of such extraordinary concentrations that it was hard to believe that it was happening. But it was and I was smelling it front and center. One second after another the smell of her nasty gas continued to find some space, somehow and pollute the space even more. It would have been one thing if the fart smell was just your typical rotten eggs, something like that. But Mrs. Morgan’s smell had already eclipsed that, it loomed high among the list of stinkiest smells possible, the stinky rotten broccoli, mixing in with what I could only describe as hot garbage that consisted of leftover vegetables. Together they created a most impenetrable fog of stink that hung proudly in that space beneath her desk. There was a chuckle from her up above as she settled down and got back to work. The more I thought about it the more I was impressed. Something had to be said for her putting up with this. By now I imagined that the entire office smelled of her reeking gas. This wasn’t your garden variety kind of aroma, this was much worse. The smell that assailed me was truly awful – I still couldn’t believe such a pretty and innocent woman could produce something so foul. The taste in the air was equally awful: a hot, slimy, bitter broccoli flavor was making me gag. As she sat there, allowing for her gas to continued hovering around I could taste more and more of it. It was a humid feeling, tropical being down there, the heat radiating from her ass as her skirt kept the conduit of warmth blowing my way. The air around me continued to taste of rotting cheese too, and eggs, and of course broccoli in my mouth. It was like nothing I could have imagined in my wildest fantasies. It was simultaneously the most horrible thing I had ever tasted, truly disgusting, and for a growing reason, the most wonderful thing I had ever tasted. In this moment, my mind was blown. As I learned to get used to these adverse locations I started wondering if she was ever going to leave. There was no reason to suspect that she would, it was her office after all, but the question of how long I could survive these locations was still nagging on my mind. I listened as she typed on her keyboard and clicked on her mouse. There was a still air inside the office, no fan, no air conditioning, she occupied the office and commanded the whole place to bow down in the presence of the utter stink that she had left in there. And from my perspective I was trapped, I could smell her legs and her feet but more than anything else I could smell her gas. It was as revolting five minutes after her last farts as it had been when she cut them. These were long range smelling farts, the kinds that just never seemed to leave, a stink that just lingered. And with that there was little else I could do. She had me smothered between her legs, and there was no other air to breath than that which came from her ass. I inhaled deeply, becoming more and more familiar with her particular scent. My mind was fixated on the wafting aroma of her gas. I had become more accustomed to the smell that it was a shock when I heard another fart leave her ass. PPbbrrttt!!! This time there was no fanfare and no movement, she stopped her typing for a couple of seconds, blasted her short fart and then went back to typing. There was a gurgling noise from her stomach after that, signaling that she had plenty more built up in her. The fart was much shorter, a second in all, but it produced that now worrying scent of her fermented gas that hounded me with another dose of her radioactive flatus. The smell was as before but since her previous gas had slowly faded away this newest burst added a deeper level. Even at a second the hot stinky wind was quick to leave her ass and hit me in the face. Even in short bursts her gas was nothing to play around with. Mrs. Morgan was now focused on typing more and more as she was clearly in the middle of something important and couldn’t be bothered too much with her gas, which was good….because she had a lot of it. PPPbbrrrtt!!!! What started to happen was scary actually. Her farts weren’t long, they weren’t loud and they weren’t particularly big, but they were frequent. And that frightened me. It was one thing to say she had a little pent up gas and let it out in bursts but this began a long period of small farts, one after another. I would guess about half a minute, maybe a little less in between farts, one after another, I actually lost count. She was busy in the middle of her work and just continued to fart. How a woman could fart like this was now baffling me. She had crossed a threshold from just ripping a few big farts to being a chronic farter. She was a repeat gaseous offender with a caliber-level of gas that was reaching apocalyptic levels. And then there was the smell, oh God was this starting to get on my nerves. She was creating heavy doses of her incredible burning broccoli smelling farts, that stuff must have been tearing up at her, creating such stenches that it was no wonder she didn’t release any of this at work. She’d clear her entire building the way she was stinking up the joint right now and with me in such a confined space and her farts directed to the space beneath her desk I was in the middle of an entire floor’s worth of gas confined to a tiny space. Judging by the timing on the clock on my phone this went on for twenty minutes, farting just like this, over and over again. I was stunned. PPPbbrrtt!!!! PPhhrroott!! PPPaarrttpp!! Her chronic farting was dialed up as she began farting with much greater frequency. She had stopped typing altogether and started to break wind at even more alarming intervals. There were about ten farts just like these three, one after another, this woman could not stop farting and here I was trapped to smell it in. She would have continued farting up a storm like this if it weren’t for the vibrating sound I heard above me, her cell phone was on the desk and it was going off. As she motioned her body to pick it up I got another whiff of her stinky wind. She must have eaten a TON of broccoli to be farting like this. She picked up the phone and began talking, as I quickly deduced it was Mr. Morgan at the other end. BBrruppp!!! Plop! Plop! Plop! PPPPPPPPPPPPlllooopppppttt!!!! "Oh hon I've been ripping the biggest toots in the office……..yeah they reek…….no……yeah I'll probably go poop and I will be ok……broccoli and cheese……well between that and the protein shake." As she said this I started smelling the gas, I waved the air around my face as I suddenly got a lot more context in her gassiness. Broccoli and cheese and protein, no wonder she’s potent! The two continued to talk, this hard working woman and her husband. As I gathered from the phone conversation he had to stay late at his own job, which meant Mrs. Morgan was going to be the sole adult around the house for the next few hours. They went on for a few more minutes before I heard her say something that did not fare well for me. “Hey hon I gotta go!” “Luv ya, bye!” She said as she frantically ended the phone conversation. This allowed for her to open the floodgates, as she ripped a mean one! BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmm Mrs. Morgan had been storing this one up for a while, I could tell. And if the small toots were annoyingly constant this one reminded me just how nice they were. The small toots released small dosage of her toxicity in my face, this one released a motherlode (no pun intended) onto me. And by her admission that she did not know that I was there it alerted me that she was unaware of my presence, which was either a good or a bad thing. But first things first, this newest fart meant serious business. My thoughts were concentrated on Mrs. Morgan’s flatulence which she let out slowly and joyfully through her ass-cheeks, accompanied by a slow, semi-moist vibration of her relaxed ass-cheeks. Just having her son out of the office allowed her the openness to cut the cheese with some earnest attitude. In my mind her vibration flapped so slowly and bassily like a jackhammer, so it was almost possible to count each of her flapping vibrations. That sound was as well a contrast as a complementary element to her mature and voluminous voice of medium tone. The firm but reassuring mother talking to her son over the woman violently blasting off a gastric eruption in the midst of, presumably, solace. Her skirt made it possible for even more of this stuff to be channeled in m direction. There was no mistake though, a lot of it did leak out, she was fanning the back of her seat as she felt the heat of that fart reach her nose. If her nose was suffering then she had no idea of what my nose was going through. I gagged, this time quite a bit, though still silent. Having to keep the silence amidst this fart storm was not easy. Her smell was turning a different kind of worse. It was now just plain hot under there, the smell of broccoli hung as tight as ever but now it was a spicy kind of broccoli odor. I could smell it through the stench of her panties, which were producing an ovulating odor from her pussy. Wet funk and sweat merged together with the overwhelming aroma of her broccoli-scented gas to create something that boggled my mind. How anyone could create something so terribly horrid in smell, or anything was, well I had lost the words. My face was making different looks as I looked around through the dimly lit space underneath her desk. Her extended burst of butt thunder had finished but with the new batch of gas to smell I had to try my best to get it into my system. This was not an easy task though; Mrs. Morgan had produced a batch of gas that made any bathroom smell immaculate no matter who used the toilet. Smelling the air around me, I was slowly turning more on to the fact that this was still a lovely woman doing this. Her sins such as this could be forgiven, even should be forgiven. A mother who works hard and takes care of her children should have the full right and privilege to share her farts wherever she’d be. Not that it made it any better though, smelling her farts was becoming a transformative experience by itself. Most people would have complained belted out of there and allowed for the cards to fall as they may. After all, I was underneath a woman’s desk, looking at a woman’s skirt, embracing the beauty of a woman. She could call the police on me or ruin my friendship with Jimmy forever. No, the choice was clear, I was going to embrace whatever she gave at me and then take a nice hot shower. I would never be able to look at her magnificent ass again the same way but that was the way it was, I was in her room and I had to be realistic, she was going to fart and I was going to smell it. BBrraappp!!! BBBpprrtt!!! BBBpplloorrtt!!! Which was good news since she was going back to the short toots. As I smelled more of the gas I began thinking more of what her daily routine must have been like. This wasn’t just a ladylike toot, this was a full bodied woman farting a lot of gas, she continued going, not even lifting her ass or anything, just farting. The worse part for me was that she was giving no thought to any of these farts. These were nothing to her; she could fart like this and do nothing. Her office seat probably had lots of these farts buried into it, small toots that did nothing to make living difficult for her. But without the benefit of the office seat I was sitting there, with my body getting tired of holding position as she blast out another one. I was literally nauseated. My eyes were literally watering. And each time I began to feel better, she’d churn out another. And it’s not like this stuff wasn’t stinking even more, there was no hiding from her ass. I was starting to think that the entire house smelled like a giant skunk sprayed his musk on the furnace. PPPPPPPPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrrbbbbbbbbbtttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!! The dreadful stench of Mrs. Morgan’s fart started to increase and spread as it attacked every corner of the small space I was in. She moaned as she found herself looking up toward the ceiling as she admired the warming aroma of her fart. I could taste the rotten eggs and cheese that had been expelled from her fart. But most importantly I could taste more broccoli; she ate an incredible amount from what I could tell. Her bowels were producing a catastrophic amount of flatulence that was filling up her office with something that was way over the top. I was now plugging my nose as I tried my best to only take scheduled breaths to avoid having to bear the worse of this gassy onslaught. This couldn’t be lasting forever I thought? More and more of this rotten odor was starting to fill up the room and probably the entire house as I heard another rumbling sound; Mrs. Morgan was cutting yet another fart. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM She started laughing like a maniac as she finished up yet another beast of a fart. I was starting to think that this was a dream; that I was not under the desk of an attractive mature woman looking deep into the crack of her ass within the confines of a too-short skirt. The deadly aroma of her gas continued to compound by the second, multiplying faster than anyone would have thought possible, and the worst part was that she was still loading up with gas; no nose could survive the damage of a fart of this magnitude. The air inside the vehicle got warmer as the air got smellier and smellier. It was an utterly devastating stink of rotten eggs and crap mixed in with dog and skunk and any other useful descriptor of a bad smell. There must have been a sickening fog of Mrs. Morgan-produced flatulence within the office. The smell continued to strengthen in its pungency by the second as she finished off this massive fart and sat back down, basking in the utter bomb that she had unleashed. “Excuse me…that food is really tearing me up.” She said giggling as I began to experience the true power of her stench. Her fart had stunk up to indescribable levels, an impressive level given the impressive farter was I was in the office with, hot boxing the small space underneath her desk with the chemical warfare she was unleashing. I was never going to think of her the same, that food must have been tearing her up but it was doing me in a lot worse. I wondered if Jimmy had to put up with this stuff all the freaking time, it must have been murder. Hell their father, he has to sleep in a bed with this mad flatulent woman. Dear God it was something to experience. Witnessing his mother farting like this, it was awe-inspiring, I was watching a famous artist painting a masterpiece, a famous composure working on their finest soundtrack, a goddess sharing her “gifts” with the world. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. Her farts were louder and stronger; this could not end well for me. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRR Another rumbling sensation began in the seat as Mrs. Morgan pushed out yet another fart. The smell in the office before she dropped this bomb was worsened by double; she was now unleashing the stinkiest part of her broccoli gas, the stinkiest known to man from what I could gather. The overwhelming stench of her gaseous eruptions had been enough to ensure that I would be smelling and tasting her gas for the duration, but this latest fart was the worst. Slightly longer and infinitely worse than before it was now becoming clear in my mind that I wasn’t going to be making it out of this office alive. I wanted to yell, complain and bitch my way. I didn’t even care if I was never invited back to the house ever again. But something compelled me to remain, I was getting worried that I was becoming complacent with this even as I started to inhale it as this proud woman, still dressed in her dress skirt, laughing even louder at the rotten vapors she was producing. Broccoli, cheese and protein powder, all of them were morphing into a scent of gas that was even worse than anything she had produced before. I could even tell that the smell was making her feel uncomfortable as she wasn’t used to this kind of fart. Mrs. Morgan was a strong farter, but this was stronger than anything she had produced before. She could only laugh at the power she was producing. If only I could see her face as she did this, she was farting up a true storm of gassiness! Which was all the worse considering that this was originating out of one of the finest pieces of buttock to ever been sculpted by God. Her massive rear end covered the seat with her awe-inspiring globes continuing their onward mission to expand the fabric of her skirt. Her ass was always the envy of anyone who considered themselves a fan of the derriere. Her ass was a forbidden fruit for any guy who looked at it anywhere and it was only until they took a whiff of what came out of it that they realized the lethality of being next to such a gorgeous tooter, clearly something that fine must be treated as if it had a mind of its own. I could only imagine that at work she had to put up with guys wanting something like that, how her husband ended up married to its greatness but he was the luckiest man alive, if it weren’t for the horrendous gases coming out of it. But I was underestimating it, her powerful ass; I did not know yet just how bad the gas had affected her. I thought that she had been very gassy that day but it was much worse than even that. She leaned over toward her right, I could already feel the gas flowing out of her ass, she was a dam ready to burst. How could this woman have so much gas? At this point I had better stop asking that question as she began to really fart in earnest. BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB Everything before had been child’s play compared to this one, this one defied the words to properly describe the experience, but it was massive. Mrs. Morgan was doing what no other human before had done, cut a really mean fart! I’m pretty certain there was a literally earthquake in that room as she began passing her wind because this thing was colossal. Leaning over she presses her hands down against the seat, not just for support but to keep the seat from shaking out of control as my eardrums hear the loudest and wettest explosion of anything in my life. This thing echoed off the small spaces underneath the desk as the fart rumbled out of her ass and unlike everything else that she had done up to this point, the fart went on for a long time. I was actually scared for my life as the room hummed with a vibrating sensation. My heart was pounding; I was in the middle of a natural disaster. This would not have been dissimilar from a dinosaur roaring real loudly. Her calves, thighs, buttocks, and lower back all tingled with exertion; they tensed, swelling to their full muscularity, and the vague sense of effort seemed almost to push an invisible and nonexistent propellant through her lower body. The roaring sound of her fart increased, the wind whistling out of her ass and straight into my face increased as my eyes stung with the hottest, most violent brand of stinky gas possible. There was a constant rumble behind her as the atmosphere collapsed a thunderclap into the void left by her passing wind. …RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR I watched her right hand struggle to keep her body propped up as I was certain a fart of this force would literally destroy the chair beneath her. It was better for her, but not me, for the bulk of this windy gas to be blown outwards either behind her or in front right toward me. My eyes felt like they were being pushed back as my cheeks were flapping in the strong wind of her gas. Her skirt was so tight against her body that it was nearly like a steel being held up against the powerful wind of her fart. This thing was truly disturbing to experience. And that was naturally before the smell reached my nostrils. I felt a raunchy humidity around increase from her enormous fart. The smell of burning brimstone and eggs hung over the air as she was creating a dangerous-smelling cloud of utter stink. Each breath of mine was labored, hurting my lungs as the chemicals in her gas were filtering in my mind with the nasty residue of her fart. A sharper intensity behind this gas made each breathfuls of gas hurt my system, taking in something that humankind was not made to take in. It was no wonder now that Mrs. Morgan was regulated to her office while her kids were elsewhere. The warning to not be in here was now very understood by me. I understood why she would not be farting like this out in public; she could be unleashing this dreadfulness upon the world. ….PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP Mrs. Morgan had her way with me, simply put. There was nothing I could do as my ears rung with the power of this gas; it was way too much to handle by any mere mortal. Her fart had calmed off just a bit, not booming as loud, the room still shook in her wake but the fart was wrapping up, and then I felt it, one extra component in her gas that I recognized instantly, crap. As the fart finished up there was a long, nearly 15-second long release of wet and juicy gas, so wet that it stained her panties. As the fart wrapped up I was no longer just smelling a mature woman fart, I was smelling her crap her panties. I felt tiny bits of her shitty gas juice reach my face, some had made it through her underwear and now I was in a humidified wind tunnel of shit-smelling wind. As the fart finally ended there was one more disturbing wet plopping sound that concluded in a wet splash against her panties, she had officially sharted herself. It was just gross now, a grown woman like this crapping herself. I don’t think there was anything solid there, yet, but I didn’t even want to think any more on that though. Thankfully though this shart would be my salvation. As she realized what she had done she was quick to get up off the chair. In doing so her legs touched me, I felt some kind of movement as I moved as far back as I could. I was almost certain she did feel my presence, but her occupations were with something else at the moment. She clinched her gigantic ass in her skirt as she ran out of the office and toward the bathroom. At last I was able to limp out from underneath the desk and my view of the world had changed. The office reeked like a war zone. There was nothing in the air but gas; all available non-gassy air had been sucked clean from the place. It was the smell of an older woman ripping mad amounts of gas, all around it reeked. I thought underneath the desk smelled bad but it was nearly worse everywhere else in the room. Had I been getting the weaker end of the stink? All around me was a sickening stench that would have forced anyone to collapse from the sudden decrease in air quality or at the very least throw up with putrid disgust. The air was thick with the vile stench of her flatulence that smelled of what must have been literal tons of broccoli burning in the hot sun, or something like that, it smelled like all the worst kinds of broccoli farts. There was simply much more of it around. My eyes were tearing up and my nose was getting stuffy from the influx of her strong stench. Mrs. Morgan had been farting like crazy and the entire office was a biohazard site. Landfills could smell like rose gardens compared to the inside of her office. I sampled the foul air, forced to really, and there was nothing else like it, even super concentrated underneath her desk, it expanded like nothing around her office. It was like being inside some factory burning sulfur for the entire day under the heat of 100 degrees and a bright smell. Gagging I quickly left the office. I wondered around the hallway toward the living room where I heard the television from Jimmy and his sister had been sitting. As I crept up on their location I heard a thundering sound come from the family bathroom. The crack in the door revealed more of the stink of Mrs. Morgan’s present bowel movement; it must have smelled even worse in that room. I worked my way into the living room and snuck up on Jimmy, who was thankfully too occupied with the TV to have noticed me walking up on him. “Hey.” I said as he looked back. “Oh, I thought you’d gone, I couldn’t blame you the way my mom’s going.” “I was hiding outside, you must have not seen me…what is that smell?” I asked him, causally bringing up the fact that the smell of her farting and bathroom visit were wafting strongly around the living room, all around we could smell her aroma, not nearly at the potency as in the office but it was there. “Oh that’s mom, she’s been farting! She’s always like that after work.” “She is?” “Yeah, she’s a stinker. When the family goes on road trips she’s always cutting the cheese. This is a normal day for her, you should have been here a few minutes ago, she made the house shake with her last fart!” He said this with the tone that suggested he was actually more than impressed by her gassiness, after my encounter with her I had to agree. “It is very strong.” I agreed with him as we both began laughing a little. Just then the door opened and out came Mrs. Morgan, there was almost a visible cloud of stink flowing out of the room, or at least you could sense it. She walked up to the living room and began laughing a little of her own. “I wouldn’t go into the bathroom for an hour!” She said laughing as she quickly noticed me. “Oh hey, didn’t know you were hanging out with Jimmy?” “Yeah…thanks for the warning.” I said waving the air around me; she had thoroughly stunk up the entire house with just the smell of her dump in the bathroom. “You should smell it in my office.” She said laughing, with a wink of her right eye. Turning around she headed back that way and there I saw it in her black skirt, her two global asscheeks rubbing against each other, moving up and down with each footstep. PPlloppp!!!! BBrraapp!!! PPrraapptt!!! More and more toots ripped out of her ass as she walked back to her office. Jimmy just laughed it off as if it were a minor inconvenience but my mind was scared by the memory of it. Large, powerful and majestic, her ass was still such an amazing sight. Only I now knew the deadly secret that came from them, the smell of Mrs. Morgan’s gas would forever remain in my mind, the smell of those beautiful cheeks. She tooted upwards to ten times as she made her way back to the office. As she closed the door there was a shaking sensation that started from within her office. It went on for several seconds as I saw a cloud of something white-looking blow out of the bottom of the doorframe, looking similar to the haze I saw earlier in the office. The shaking lasted for nearly 15 seconds before it subsided. I looked back at Jimmy and he just smiled back at me. “What can I say, my mom farts a lot.” |
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