She didn’t fart, her intestines just blew you a kiss, just a little whisper in her panties for your pleasure. Must have been those California barking spiders.
It’s a medically proven fact that girls don’t fart. It just doesn’t happen. Little floral scented puffs of glitter arise where noxious gas would have been. We don’t even have assholes actually. No need, since girls don’t shit either.
It is impossible for even the slightest of bad odors to excrete from a lovely delicate female body. Girls don’t have smelly feet, they don’t sweat, and they don’t even get bad breath after eating onions or stinky cheese.
Well, I guess I’m not a girl then. I have a queefing bloody vagina and an ass that makes music and melted chocolate. I usually smell like a footgina, it’s a cross between rotten pussy and that pair of Teva sandals you have worn all summer long.
I belch, impressively loud, quite resonant, and often reminding the world of my poor dietary choices: cheap beer and all the greasiest and most wonderful foods in abundance. My halitosis is only second to the smell that my funky armpits secrete. It’s amazing that I’m still single with the amount of important pheromones I am putting out there.
What did the maxi pad say to the fart? You are the wind beneath my wings. Oh I fart, often and openly. Why would anyone hold that lovely ass perfume in? Those farts that you can taste and burn your eyes, almost to the point you can feel pink eye setting in. Shooting pains and intestinal distress are not worth being “sexy.”
Some other fart terms are turd tremors, tushy ticklers, cutting the cheese, colon bowlin’, cheek squeak, air biscuit, crop dust, tear arse, corn hole clap, exercising the meat nozzle, thunder from down under, heinie hiccup, grundle rumble, sphincter siren, trouser trumpet, ass flapper, or a boom boom booty bomb. I call it free speech.
I once ended an awkward meeting with my boss by letting out the most noxious after lunch violent yet silent but deadly in my closed tiny office. I am also notorious for passing gas on stage during some of my burlesque performances.
One time recently I ate some delicious beer cheese soup about 15 minutes before my set, bad choice. But nobody knew that there were fireworks in my underoos because I kept my cool and played it off. The trick is to let her rip during the loud parts of the song and then use a decorative fan to blow away the smell. If you don’t have a prop just whip them there boobies around, nobody is paying attention to the fart smell when there are titties a wiggling.
I think it adds to the visceral nature of my act. Breaking wind and breaking boundaries, crushing the ideas of what a woman should be.
A girl who is openly odorous in front of a potential mate can be saying she is comfortable enough to Dutch oven you because she is in love and upping the intimacy, or maybe it’s just a sign that you are hardcore friend-zoned and she gives no fucks what you think. Free form flatulence can also be a sign that a girl feels threatened. Girls are a lot like skunks, when nervous our anal glands release that recognizable deadly smell.
I fart purely because I don’t care. You may think I’m gross, but I’m just human, doing humanly things without regret or shame. Passing gas is as natural as a cough or a yawn. So don’t blame it on the dog or that fat guy with his crack hanging out that just walked by, own it.
Not proud of this but I have even shit my pants in public before. Shamefully throwing out your underwear in the K-mart bathroom because that taco went right through you. I gambled and lost. Shit happens, literally. And you move on. It’s all part of being alive. Constipation kills. Thankfully this was a one time incident and I’m not at the point where I need to wear Depends on the daily.
I was once hooking up with a guy and we were sleeping next to each other. I was the big spoon as usual, his ass nestled into my thigh. All of a sudden there were fireworks beneath the sheets.
After farting himself awake he jolted out of the bed and ran to the bathroom like lightening. I lifted the sheet to assess the damage and found a little brown puddingesque surprise on my leg, “you might want to bring back a wet cloth” and all I heard was sobbing. He was so embarrassed that he started crying uncontrollably.
I was more turned off by that than the fact there was a distinct slick of dookie on my leg. Everybody poops bro, it’s not ideal to let one out on your lover, but it’s not worth freaking out over either. Needless to say it didn’t work out between us.
I am in love with my body and all of the weird stuff that it does. I recommend letting out a big fart on your next first date, liven things up a bit and see his response to your anal acoustics. It’s a great ice breaker!
Flatter him with flatulence and freedom. A real man will want to bask in your cloud of loveliness. The real smell of a girl with no inhibitions or sense of false perfection. Unforgiving realness is beyond sexy. I guarantee success. I am human, hear me roar!