#fartkink

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 23 “Smells Like Sheet”[Episode List]

Due to a cliché, Tim and the-gassy-as-usual Dave have to share a bed. Who could possibly know what's gonna happen next... though it may involve a dutch oven that's for sure.

POV: Tim

Smells Like Sheet

“Tim Slade and Dave Maning, right?” the receptionist kindly asked.

The hotel hall around us was way too… glittery for my standards, but that’s what happens when Dave asks you to join him for a business trip. Well, not really a business trip, but rather a rather some kind of celebration for a milestone that The Company he works for reached, and given that it was also thanks to him, he was invited to this very special dinner. However, it wasn’t as fancy or formal as the location may suggest, as Dave’s boss did tell everyone that they could let one friend or partner join the night: after all, it was a party.

My bro usually hates going to “parties” planned by The Company but since this celebration in particular was an important event, which also could lead to yet another promotion, me, our other friends and Dana (his girlfriend) basically forced him to go.

What I didn’t expect is that I’d be the one joining him instead of Dana. This happened for 2 reasons:

Reason 1: Dana was busy with her own job and couldn’t join his boyfriend even if she wanted to but, just like him, she too hates this kind of events (they’re really made for each other, huh? Can’t say I disagree however…).

Reason 2: Dave actually wanted to introduce me to his boss because they’re looking for someone with video-making skills to film something for them, maybe some kind of motivational video that corporations love to do.

So here we are, the receptionist of this fancy hotel handing us the key to our room.

“Here you go: Room 669”

“Heh. Ni-Nice” both me and Dave said, because our brains stopped working at the same time.

The receptionist pretended he didn’t hear a thing, thankfully.

We then walked through the fancy hall and took the elevator, just the two of us. We didn’t have any luggage with us, since it was just for one night, so our backpacks were enough.

“So silent…” Dave said.

“What?” I asked.

“This elevator. I can hear my own heart beating. I’m impressed.”

I stared at him, his tall figure, wearing a grey shirt and pair of black jeans. My mind immediately went to one time we took an elevator ride together and immediately stopped him before he could do anything uncalled for.

“Dude, have mercy. There’s other people who’s gonna need this elevator.”

Dave was standing next to me and turned to me, sporting a puzzled expression. He seemed confused by my words, I could tell he wasn’t being sarcastic or anything, maybe.

“What? What do you mean?”

Right. It’s not like people always thinks about farts… not that I do, believe it or not. 

I felt very embarrassed to be honest.

“S-sorry. I just thought… y-you know…” 

“Ok… you’re stuttering like an idiot…” he said. “so I’m pretty sure you thought I was going to break the silence with one of my farts, right?” the way he asked it so casually was already oddly… hot for me, but also reassuring.

“Yes.” I simply replied, hating the elevator for how long it was taking to reach our destination. “I’m sorry. But believe me, I was telling you this because I don’t want people to choke on your gas.”

He leaned towards me a bit. “Unless it’s you, right?” he whispered, the bastard.

“Shut up!” I said, as he laughed like a jerk.

Once again, silence. Dave being chill around me makes me stutter more than his blasts.

However, after like 10 seconds, I decided to break the silence instead.

“You were totally going to far-“

“Yes” he cut me off “I was totally going to destroy this elevator but you, of all people, stopped me.”

We both laughed like idiots and the doors opened. Indeed, people stepped inside as we left. They don’t know that I probably saved their nostrils, I’m the unsung hero of their story.

—

We reached our room mere seconds later. We stepped inside, but not before both me and Dave could once again go “Ni-nice” at the same time the moment we saw our room number hanging on the door. This is gonna be a thing for the next few ours so brace yourself, readers.

The room was exactly as you may expect: big, fancy, with all the comforts and more, big windows and a nice view on the city, and a queen-size bed in the middle. I almost felt out of place: it truly looks like a perfect room for an actual couple.

And no, weirdly enough the queen bed didn’t make me nervous: both me and Dave knew it was gonna happen so I already had my awkward phase back at home. My friend is chill and he doesn’t care about sharing the bed with a gay man like me, plus it already happened sometime ago anyway.

All of those doubts always sound so silly when I stop and remember how I spend way too much time with my face planted into my friend’s farting ass, courtesy of his skills and the fact that in his own non-kinky way he enjoys making sure that almost none of his farts go to waste. Well, none except the one he started ripping as I opened my backpack and sat on the bed, his way to assert dominance every time we go into a hotel room. Loud, long and proud, around 7 seconds long, so basically a medium-sized one for Dave’s standards. 

My bro raised his left hand and pointed his index finger up as the fart ended on a high note, as if he was conducting his own rip like it was an orchestra. As the blast ended, he just stared at me with a silly smile, something that he’d always do even before he found out about my kink: he’s just your average gassy friend, can’t do anything about that.

“So…” I tried to ignore the scent that reached my nose. “What’s the plan for tonight?” I asked.

“First thing first, we gotta take a shower. Not together at the same time I’m afraid. You can go first.”

“You can join me if you want…” I said, winking at him as I went into the bathroom.

“D-don’t make me horny dude!” he jokingly replied.

—

I was drying my hair by the bed while Dave took a shower (it was his turn). As I said, while it wasn’t the fancy night one might except, we kind of had to look really good, me especially, because Dave’s boss is a fine guy, but also one of those “first impression is best impression” dudes. I mean, the shower was obvious, but me going as far as making sure my hair look great, while normally I wouldn’t even use a comb, is telling.

I heard, or rather, didn’t hear the shower anymore so I knew Dave was done. What I did hear however was his ass being talky tonight, exploding in a thunderous, wet post-shower rip that easily surpassed the hair dryer’s notably loud sound. I didn’t properly see Dave ripping ass, but the fact that I could hear it so clearly was yet another proof of his incredible skills. He didn’t even comment on it, I mean it’s not like every time he farts we have to acknowledge my kink, when even I sometimes just ignore it.

“I hope you heard that, honey.” 

I heard the bastard say from the bathroom.

Yes, I sometimes just ignore it… until Dave makes sure I don’t.

—-

Finally we were ready to leave. The Company held this important dinner basically downstairs, in the hotel’s restaurant. They basically booked the entire place so we could eat, drink and just hang out together, talking about business in a surprisingly relaxing and chill environment. This was reflected in our clothes, as they were formal-ish but not, you know, wedding-tier. Dave was wearing a white shirt, sleeves pulled up, black jeans and black sneakers. I was basically dressed the same, only my shirt was grey.

“Nice. You almost look fuckable tonight.” my friend told me, as he sprayed some last bits of deodorant around us.

“I was gonna tell you the same.” 

“Well... we are in room 669 you know...” he winked at me and then headed for the door.

(Ni-Nice!)

—

Dinner was pretty good and varied, they really spared no expenses, especially considering how The Company even paid for everyone’s rooms (not that there were many guests, but still). There was meat, vegetables and even some vegan options on the menu. Both me and Dave liked the idea of trying a bit of everything, while most of the other work colleagues went for a pure carnivore approach. Alcohol was beer or wine, or both, but better not mix things up. 

Dave’s boss sometimes proposed a toast blabbering about how The Company is actually one big family… before laughing at his own overused figure of speech: he was cynical yes, but I can respect his self-awareness and lack of no-nonsense speeches about how “we’re all in this together” when we all know this isn’t true.

It all went pretty well: food was great, most of my friend’s colleagues were pretty cool I guess, and after talking for like 30 minutes, the boss simply told me to send him my portfolio, no strings attached or anything. 

Honestly I had more fun than I was expecting. Almost everything was free and everyone, whether it was a facade or not, was very nice to us, so honestly I can’t complain, only appreciate this fancy-ish night.

—

At around 2:00 AM, Dave and I got back to our room (Ni-Nice!), announcing our entrance with Dave letting out a loud belch that I’m sure tasted like the dessert. The dinner at the hotel restaurant was pretty straight-forward so once we were done eating and drinking, we had like 2 more hours of casual chatting and more drinking. There was music but it’s not like the place turned into a disco for us.

We weren’t really tired nor drunk, just a bit tipsy. We clumsily removed our shoes and collapsed on the bed. I turned the TV on and we just casually mindlessly watched it while checking our phones.

Being a queen size bed, Dave was obviously lying next to me, to my left: he was shirtless, sporting a pretty good body figure, no actual ribs but pecs were there. Given how much we ate and drank tonight, he also looked slightly bloated. His black jeans were in fact pretty loose as he untied his belt once we got back into the room. Covering his feet, a kind of out-of-place but weirdly cute pair of purple socks with a butterfly pattern on it.

We finally could talk about the night we just had, The Company itself, and most importantly make not very polite comments about a co-worker Dave particularly despises for how fake he is, one of those people ready to throw you under a bus even if that means he can get something as worthless a pat on the back by the boss.

“Your boss however” I said “really surprised me. He looks pretty chill. I think I might even enjoy working for him, about the video and all you know.”

“Yeah.” my friend remarked. “I mean he still IS the boss don’t let that fool you, but he is quite honest at least.”

 “I’ll keep that in mind when I’ll get to make the video… if he wants me to do it of course.”

“Did you send him your portfolio?”

“I just did actually. I had it zipped on my phone.”

Dave gently punched my shoulder in approval, because we’re really mature men.

“Well done bro.” he said. “I guess we gotta celebrate.”

“Yeah… with fireworks and all.” I said, sarcastically, while checking my phone.

Dave laughed. “I can help with that.”

My friend completely misinterpreted what I said and decided to showoff his well-known skills. He leaned just a bit on his side, pointing his black-denim ass towards my side of the bed, raised his right leg and let it rip. Loud, thunderous and as powerful as they come, Dave’s fart (arguably the first of a long series) almost activated my fight or flight response as I wasn’t really expecting it this time. However, it was as loud as a firework display going off in our room. The more the fart kept going, the more he raised his long leg, effectively adjusting the sound and the tone of the fart, going from lower to higher pitched. 

After I took a good look of his denim ass, I then turned directly to him: he was visibly pushing one out, with a smirk drawn on his face; he looked back at me and smiled, winking at me as the fart still echoed in the room, easily surpassing the sounds coming from the TV, which could very well be set on mute at this point.

This wasn't an elevator, so no way I was gonna stop him this time.

The already long and impressive 15 seconds fart ended with a series of 4 loud toots, which sounded a bit more difficult to properly push out, judging by Dave’s facial expressions; but still, my friend still managed to do it effortlessly, once again showing off this impressive talent. Furthermore, and this goes without saying, the stench hit my face pretty soon, as an invisible gas cloud engulfed our bed. I could basically tell what Dave had for dinner without even taking a deep whiff.

Finally, my friend’s ass went silent. Dave adjusted his position and laid down normally next to me, laughing.

“Dude” I said, trying not to laugh myself “I didn’t mean that kind of fireworks.” 

Dave was visibly puzzled, but amused. I thought he was messing with me but apparently he did misinterpret my words for real.

“Ahah I’m sorry man.” he apologized. “Well it’s not like you mind anyway, don’t you?” 

I just remained silent in front of the truth, doing my best to focus on my phone instead, but Dave obviously wasn’t done, as another loud fart erupted, making the entire bed shake.

I was horny as hell, but I just didn’t know how to act while the second blast was being ripped next to me. I wanted to plant my face into his ass but I didn’t want to take advantage of my friend being so chill about my kink. Plus it’s not like he doesn’t fart in my face; in fact, I’d even say that he facefarts me way too often!

The fart was just as loud as the previous one, if not louder. It was all natural, powered by the dinner we had and the gallons of alcohol he ingested. The smell was there, but Dave’s main treat for me was his ability to rip such long and loud farts so often: he will never cease to amaze me.

12 seconds, a bit shorter than the first one, but still a sight to sore eye… and nose, mostly.

“Alright. I’m gonna get ready to sleep.” he casually said, as he left the bed. “You can still watch the TV if you want, just don’t watch anything too loud.”

I snapped back to reality. “You have the audacity to tell me not to be loud?” 

He laughed, knowing exactly what I was referring to.

“But that’s fine, I’m too tired anyway.” 

We both changed at the same time, slipping into something more comfortable, which consisted in a generic white shirt and sweatpants, for me at least. The room was warm enough so Dave slept shirtless and only wore a pair of black boxers brief, a boxer that, just like his socks, did sport a silly pattern, this time with stars.

I went to brush my teeth and then slipped under the blankets, with my friend joining mere minutes later.

“Goodnight bro.” he said, clapping his hands 2 times, hoping the lights would magically turn off.

Surprisingly enough, the lights did turn off, truly a fancy hotel!

“No fucking way.” we both said, as if we witnessed something that happens once in a lifetime.

They didn’t exactly turn off however, but rather went dim, so I could still kind of see what’s going on. It was dark enough to sleep however, as both me and my bro prefer to sleep in darkness.

Now I felt truly tired, so I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.

As expected, however, my friend wasn’t done talking; well, his ass certainly wasn’t.

I felt its vibrations immediately, as a muffled powerful rip made the bed shake. 

“Still?” I said, pretending to be as annoyed as I could.

“Shhh.” Dave cut me off, his index finger up, basically inviting me to listen to what his butt had to say.

Indeed, the ass was very talk and the fart was indeed impressive, deep-sounding and, well, manly. Despite being muffled, I could perfectly hear it. Fortunately, the stench was trapped under the blankets, like a bed-sized tuna can. My gassy friend knew it, so the bastard, with a deft movement, pullet the blanket all over me, trapping me in the metaphorical tuna can. 

Now I could hear and feel the flatulence properly, as Dave slightly lifted his ass a bit to ease the blast out, which was still going by the way. It felt like my friend trapped me in a queen-sized cage with a wild, roaring beast. The stench also hit me like a truck and every breathe I took made me taste what we had for dinner again. I tried to move, to get out, but Dave had a firm grip on the blanket covering me and he made sure I inhaled every particle of gas he was ripping.

The dutch oven maneuver knows no mercy...

18 seconds and the long fart was finally done. My friend simply laughed but still didn’t let me go.

“If you can handle my boss, I’m sure you can handle... this.” he joked.

Another loud fart erupted, this time "short", 4 seconds, but one of the loudest of the night so far.

In the dark of the dimly-lit room and under the blanket, I could still see his boxer-clad ass, hugging his butt tightly, a very thin layer of fabric enduring incredibly powerful blasts. I'm surprised he didn't tear a hole through his underwear with such raw, powerful farts!

It’s like he knew I was staring, because he moved closer to me, his ass now touching my leg, dangerously close to where my crotch is. 

Now I was the one shaking under Dave’s power, as my friend started farting on me. The fart being ripped so close to my boner was a surreal experience and I felt like my dick was gonna blow, as if it was being struck by an earthquake that it couldn’t endure. Loud, long and proud, my bro’s farts never disappoint. Whether kinks are involved or not, one can only bow to such incredible skills.

My friend still kept me under the blanket as he filled the bed with poisonous gas. I started to cough, which only made Dave laugh like a jerk in response.

This one fart lasted around 9 seconds, but even though the ass was done talking, Dave still kept me under there, making my nostrils burn. He wasn’t directly farting in my face, but somehow this felt worse, stench-wise. There really was no way the gas could get out of that gas chamber made of blankets and I struggled to breathe. 

Now my bro showed off by ripping a quick series of loud, short toots, probably yet another big fart that he’s trying to rip in small doses, further proof of how “crafty” he could be when it came to fart-control.

“You know what…” he said, as the fart stopped.

I could feel he letting the blanket go, so I could easily get out of that gas chamber… but I didn’t want to, because I’m a mess and I wanted to see what Dave had in store for me for this torture.

He adjusted his position and, making sure my head was still under the blankets, he turned his whole long body around, wrapping his legs around my chest and face, fully planting his boxer-clad ass on my cheek. Oh, the pattern was made of hearts, not stars, how peculiar...

I instinctively sniffed and obviously the ass was warm and raunchy, given how much my friend has been farting. However, that wasn’t enough, as I felt him push, resuming the previous fart where it left off, this time however ripping it all at once, not in small doses like before. I just accepted it, I was basically Dave’s fart slave at this point and I didn’t mind. I just appreciated how chill he was, feeling like I was living the most beautiful dream (and nightmare, somehow).

The fart stopped after about 11 seconds.

As my face was completely planted in my friend’s ass, I even struggled to speak.

“I mean… we are in room 669 after all.” I said, trying to make an obvious joke.

I could hear Dave appreciate my dry sense of humor. “Ni-Nice.” he laughed, and then treated me with another quick blast which truly tested my eardrums, other than my nostrils.

Finally, it looked like he was done, as he laid next to me like a normal person. He even lifted the blanket, because I was too horny to do anything apparently. In the dimly-lit room, I could still see his usual smirk as he stared at me, amused by how much of a weirdo I am… or rather by how weirdos we both are in a way.

In terms of stench, the situation outside of that gas chamber wasn’t that different, but it was probably because my nostrils absorbed so much gas that it was impossible for me to sniff anything else, for a while at least.

“You still have to buy us beers though.” Dave said. “This doesn’t count as a celebration.”

“You sure?” I promptly replied. “I did hear the fireworks.”

“Yeah.” he said. “And you sure smell like one.” he cackled.

He then turned his back to me and went to sleep, wishing me goodnight as if he didn’t just rip tons of farts in the face of someone who has a fart kink. As usual, I wanted to thank him, but ironically enough he seemed more annoyed by me being thankful than my fetish, so I just relaxed, trying to ignore my massive boner, and went to sleep myself.

A couple of hours ago, Dave’s boss asked me what are some of my strengths: if “being able to endure my straight bro’s powerful farts” is considered a legit strength, then I’m gonna be CEO of The Company by next week.

End of Episode 23

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #malefarts #gayfarts

[nexysworld]

Pls make fartkink!leon

bruh

#nexys #anon #pls someone save me #I keep getting weird asks #😭

[lin808101]

I cant believe he told me to shut up, so linphobic. #wap #gordonramsey #notwap #homoerectus #homo #homophobe #homophobic #linphobic #fartkink #pisskink #kink #ifyouwereafartidclenchmycheekssohardjusttoneverletyougo

[fartenjoyer]

It should be more socially acceptable to fart in public. It's good for the soul and the heart ♥️

#eprocto #gas kink #farting #eproctophilia #fart kink #Fartkink #Gaskink #Gassy

[autisticcreeper]

Did you know that farts are actually healthy? You see, there's this thing called fart therapy. I know....crazy! But if you fart on your mentally ill friend/partner/family member, say "among us pussy" while all star plays in the background...nothing will happen!

#fartkink #/j #sorry #idk why i wrote this

[nblesbiangenderfluidprinces-blog]

i have a fart kink and i am proud! you can not shame me!

#fart #farts #fartkink #sexy #flatullence #bum #wetfart #fart on my mouth #yummy #in #my #tummy

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 22 “Road Rip” [Episode List] Dave is stuck out of town after a big storm damaged the railways in the area, resulting to all trains getting cancelled. Tim’s lazy saturday night gets therefore turned upside-down as he is forced to take the car for a two-hours trip to get his friend back home.

Want to feel like Tim? Click on the links in the story to hear the power of Dave's farts! The audio for the farts was kindly provided by the skilled farter TheFartingWolf, so make sure to follow him on Twitter on his main account and his backup one!

POV: Tim

Road Rip

Saturday afternoons are the laziest moments of the week for me.  Or, at least that's what they used to be.

Now that I live alone (well, with a roommate) I take advantage of this otherwise unproductive time to get some random shit done, chores, everything house-related.

I got the kitchen cleaned up for example, then went to the grocery store ‘cause we were short on everything. Luckily, for the last few days I could easily run on fumes because I’ve been alone, since Dave had to attend to some kind of convention out of town, work stuff. He occasionally kept us posted in the group chat, as apparently he, his boss and their co-workers spent most of the time drinking and some of them got badly drunk in an attempt to impress their superiors, leading to some unprofessional behaviour, and thus hilarious for us. In private, Dave also reported to me the presence of a very hot gay guy, but since he’s working in a rival company, my bro told me that he wouldn’t actually approve of our relationship.

That voice message? That’s exactly what you think it is.

And no, I won’t kill him, I’m just baffled by how chill he is.

Even when he’s not around, Dave would still blast me using modern technologies, and that voice message was his ass speaking, not him, one of his usual, loud, 10+ seconds farts. 

On one hand, I treasure Dave being ridiculously open minded. On the other, more than once I almost listened to those in public, thinking they were actual messages, important stuff, instead of my bro making fun of me.

However, I can’t really complain much since as annoying as he can be, I know I’m very lucky.

He kept sending us messages and updates, the usual stuff, memes and shit, while I kept doing my own shit around the house, until at around 6:30 PM, when Dave sent a peculiar voice message.

It was in the group chat this time, so I know that couldn’t be a fart… maybe.

“Hey guys” it sounded like he was in a crowded place, which it made sense given it was a convention. “so I assume you noticed the storm this morning. Well that bitch hit us hard. I mean we’re all fine but the railways suffered some heavy damage and all trains have been cancelled.” 

He stopped a few second to exchange some words with -I think- a co-worker and then resumed talking to us. 

“I’m pretty much stuck here so… help? I know it’s a two-hour trip by car but I can repay y’all with sex. Raw, unhinged sex. I can be the lover of your dreams.” 

Wouldn’t be Dave without jokes like these. And needless to say, we’re all men in our group chat.

“But seriously guys, let me know, and fast.”

Admittedly it was a time-consuming favour but while he may act all silly around us, Dave is pretty smart and organized, so I automatically assumed he tried out every available options before asking us.

After a couple of messages making fun of him, saying how he was gonna die there etc., the group™ started to think of a solution. Unsuccessfully, I might add. 

Two of our buds were too out of town, spending the weekend with their girlfriends.

Adam’s car was in the shop to fix the engine and if he was lucky he was gonna get it back on Monday.

Greg was useless as usual.

So that only leaves… me.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” I simply typed in the group chat.

Everyone reacted to the message with a thumbs up and made comments about how many stops me and Dave were gonna have on our way back to fuck each other in every motel. 

“Bold of you to assume we need to stop the car to fuck.” Dave played along. “We’re professionals.”

My bro-roommate then thanked me in private.

I turned on the radio to keep me company and just drove. It wasn’t a complicated trip by any means, most of it was a boring and uneventful straight highway. There was no traffic despite the cancelled trains, and it honestly was a surprisingly relaxing trip. The biggest risk (not that I thought there were gonna be any) was me falling asleep for how dull all of that was however (thankfully, the radio helped). 

I managed to keep Dave (and my other buds) posted on my location, so he knew when to get ready. We decided (or rather he forced me) I was gonna leave the car in the parking lot next to the convention center and then have a quick dinner together in a fast food located in the building, so I could also rest for a bit; he actually asked me if I wanted him to drive on our way back, but I didn’t feel tired (at worst, we’d take turns). 

Surprisingly enough, I got there in time, after around 2 hours as expected (9:00 PM or so). I parked where my friend told me to and then went looking for him in the building’s main (and big) hall. There were still some people around, some of them working on their laptops, chatting, casually having a beer. I assume most of them were in Dave’s situation but chose to remain there for the night.

“Right here, babe!” 

I saw Dave waving at me. He was sitting on a couch near the hall’s coffee shop, with an empty beer bottle in one hand and his laptop on his legs. He looked visibly exhausted by the last few days but still cracked a silly smile when he saw me. He was wearing a white shirt and some grey jeans.

We bro-fisted because we’re manly mature men and he promptly got up to give me a quick hug.

“You’re awesome, I’m gonna let you choke on my dick back home.” he told me as his arms wrapped around my shoulder.

He was joking. Seriously. That’s how we always joke around, regardless of anyone’s sexuality. Dave then reached for his laptop and put it in his backpack: he just wanted to leave that damn place.

“Let’s get something to eat, it’s on me.”

“Come on you don’t-“

“Shut your mouth and follow me.”

We kept chatting as we walked towards this small fast food, also located in the main hall (as I said, it was a big place). If you ignore the alcohol involved, it was a prolific weekend for him and he was happy he was getting a raise starting next week. 

“Maybe you can finally move in with Dana.” I suggested.

“Nope, you won’t get rid of me so easily.” he joked. 

We sat at a table for two and quickly ordered some food using some kind of app that Dave made me install. Mere minutes laters, our meal arrived: I asked for a tasty cheeseburger while Dave went for the double one.

“Tsk, puny as usual.” he said, as he compared how relatively small my burger was.

“Remember who humiliated you at the hot dog-eating contest last year.” I flexed.

“Wow my gay friend is really good at eating sausages? Up next: the sky is blue.”

We both had a laugh. “Why so bitchy all of the sudden? You never complained about my sausage-eating skills before.”

Our very mature and not-at-all double entendre-filled conversation went on for a couple of more minutes, ignoring anyone overhearing us, though I’m pretty sure no one cared.

“But yes.” Dave then said. “We’re thinking of moving together within next year.” he then took a big bite of his burger. “No worries tho, I’m not going anywhere for now.” he continued, almost choking on his own food, and winked at me.

“Just say when!” I remarked, referring to when I needed to move out (in case Dana was the one moving in).

We both knew it had to happen eventually, and we were both super chill about it obviously. I was already looking for a place on my own lately anyway, so it’s not the end of the world.

After finishing our burgers, we both kept talking about the last few days while finishing our beers. Well, Dave was: I ordered a coke, since I was the one driving. My bro then got up and paid, as he promised.

“Gas too is on me by the way.” he said, as we walked towards the exit.

“Dude no you already paid for our dinner, you don’t nee-“

“Shut up. You drive, I pay.”

I chose not to insist and I simply appreciated the gesture.

We got to the car after a couple of minutes of walking; Dave put his backpack into the trunk as I occupied the driving seat, with my friend promptly sitting next to me on the passenger one.

“Alright it’s 10:00 PM… the trip will take around 2 hours… so we should be at home around Midnight.”

Dave looked at me unimpressed. “Yes, because 10+2 equals 12, is that correct?”

“Yes, sorry your brain can’t handle such advanced math.”

The sarcastic banter was interrupted by… well, I don’t even need to say it. It was interrupted by Dave ripping one, a quick, 2 seconds-long blast, partially muffled by the seat.

“…really? Already?” I asked, unimpressed, and he replied with another short blast, or the second part of the previous one which, knowing him, he probably interrupted on purpose just to cut me off with was left of it.

He dropped the serious facade and smiled. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Good idea. I started the car and we got moving.

“When back there you told me that gas was on you…” I said, as I drove out of the parking lot. “I thought you were talking about the car.” I joked, mustering all the courage I had to do it.

He really likes messing with me.

My friend laughed. “We’ll see.” he simply answered. “Either way, you’re getting free gas.” he winked at me and turned the radio on, completely chill as usual about how weird I was.

Here it goes, my heart racing fast, still unable to get used to my bro being this ok with my kink, so much so that we can casually joke about it like we just did. 

“J-just don’t hotbox the car.” I tried to be as smooth as possible, but I’m pretty sure my voice cracked.

“Not making any promises.” he said, while tuning the radio.

I kept driving, focusing on the highway in front of us as the music kept us company. Dave was visibly tired so I let him rest for a while; he wasn’t asleep but I could tell he was exhausted. I mean I could easily scare the shit out of him by swerving the car like a madman all of the sudden, but I chose not to, because I’m indeed the hero he doesn’t deserve.

For the first hour, just like on the way up, the return trip was dull and uneventful, but oddly relaxing.

“How’s the gas?” Dave asked.

“Yours or the car’s?” I replied, knowing that I could step on a mine by saying that.

My friend laughed at the lame joke, making me question whether we’re both actually really really dumb.

“But I’m good, thanks. Got lots of gas to spare.”

And I just stepped on the land mine, as expected.

“What a coincidence.” I could sense his smirk. “Me too!”.

Dave adjusted his position a bit and spread his long, denim legs. He reached for the radio to lower the volume, so I could only have ears for what he was about to unleash.

“Y-you don’t have to, man.” I tried to say, sincerely.

But Dave just cackled. “jUsT sAy WhEn!” he replied, doing a very offensive impression of what I said earlier, voice cracking and all.

My friend knows how the kink works but can’t help to find me hilarious and I can’t do anything to stop him. This is my hell… and heaven, at the same time. 

He still wasn’t farting, oddly enough, so I dared to look at him, only to find him staring back at me. It was night and the car was dark, but the lights from other vehicles revealed, unsurprisingly, a silly yet reassuring smile draw on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you have nothing to worry about with me?”

My heart was racing faster than the cars around us. I’d be ironically more able to have a discussion with someone not being ok with my kink rather than this.

Dave always leaves me speechless.

“Look, just listen what I’m gonna tell you, ok?” he stated.

I believed him. 

I believed him like a fool. 

I truly believed he was gonna make some kind of deep speech to reassure me (not that he didn’t the in the past, more than once). A fool, that’s what I am, and in fact my ears got destroyed by a voice, yes, but a loud, roaring voice coming out of his ass.

What was both hot and hilarious to me was that Dave kept staring at me with a serious expression, as if that loud gas was indeed an important speech, but halfway through the 14-seconds-long fart he just lost it and smiled like a jerk, without losing control of that enormous blast of gas. The way he controls his rips is downright fascinating to me (but I’m biased): my bro would speak, move, laugh while farting and the blast would never lose any power.

Once he was done, he playfully punched my right shoulder and sat back normally, tightening the seatbelt, but his ass being glued to the seat didn’t stop the stench from engulfing the entire car. It wasn’t terrible… yet, but I did have to lower the car window just to let some fresh air in.

“Was that natural or on command?” I had the guts to ask, but I was genuinely curious, given the sound it had.

Dave looked amused by the surprising question. “Not tellin’, a pro never reveals his secrets.” such a smug answer.

“Well…” damn I’m being brave tonight. “Whatever you do, I tip my hat to how loud your farts get. That’s impressive, r-regardless of my kink.”

What a surreal conversation.

My friend simply laughed in response, probably at me, but I couldn’t really blame him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” he then said, with a smirk.

I swear I wasn’t requesting anything, he was being a teasing asshole!

–

We kept talking about some other stuff, like our plans for tomorrow, since it was Sunday. The general consensus was “we do absolutely nothing” which, given how tired we were probably gonna be once we got home, it was probably for the best. Dave then resumed talking about his promotion.

“Dude, my boss is a jerk but credit where it’s due: if I get more money, I can finally afford that trip to France with Dana.”

“Yeah, I remember you guys have been talking about it for years.”

“And we still do, so maybe next year we’re finally -WAIT, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” 

…Why do I always fall for it? 

I didn’t even have time to roll my eyes that Dave once again started ripping one of his huge blasts. He leaned just a bit to ease the fart out, effortlessly hotboxing the entire car, as I kindly told him not to. Then again, he did say he wasn’t making any promises, so I guess I walked right into that one.

The fart was long, loud and proud, easily silencing the music coming from the radio. It kept going strong as I listened in awe, my boner almost piercing a hole through my pants and touching the steering wheel, a boner my friend probably noticed because he winked at me (he winks pretty often lately, huh?), with a smirk, while still farting loudly and manly.

12 seconds, basically the average length of Dave’s rips.

I wanted to say something smooth and sarcastic to not look like the mess I am, but my friend simply resumed talking about his potential trip with Dana as if nothing happened, which I didn’t mind to be honest. What I did mind, like the hypocrite I am, was the smell poisoning my lungs. Despite the open windows, my nostrils were burning, while my friend was basically immune to it.

Now it was getting bad, the scent of Dave’s double cheeseburger, but rotten, lingering for minutes after the fart was done being ripped.

“I think I’m done with cheeseburgers for a while.” I commented out of nowhere.

Dave laughed, knowing exactly what i was referring to. He was actually proud of how nasty his rips were, the immature bastard.

I managed to focus on driving however, keeping an eye on the road and other passing cars, while still casually chatting with my bro, the insisting stench being a constant reminder of his farting skills even when his ass was being silent.

But I know Dave: he wasn’t done.

Around 30 minutes later, the radio played a song of a band we really like.

“I believe they’re having a concert in Boston in a few months.” Dave said.

“We gotta book some tickets if there’s still time.”

“I doubt it but it’s worth a shot.”

“I gotta hear that solo, bro.”

I feel like my life is just a series of fart cues for my gassy friend at this point.

“Right, but you gotta settle for this solo until then.” he stated, and I knew where this was going.

He again spread his legs wide and started farting, predictably, the blast being just as powerful as the others. How he manages to do it is beyond me, whether it’s natural or on command. The guy’s got talent and I wish I could be unbiased about it: he’s that good. I could swear that the warm gas cloud he produced almost fogged up the car windows, and the stench got even worse, nauseating, so much so I could taste it, which wasn’t a good news at all for my stomach, busy trying to digest my own cheeseburger.

Around 13 seconds later, Dave again adjusted his position on the seat and the fart went silent.

“Dude, no offense.” he turned to me. “But how you manage to survive whenever I fart in your face is a mystery to me.” he admitted, visibly disgusted, but still smiling and amused nonetheless.

The fact that he said that as if it was the most normal sentence in the world almost made me swerve the car.

“Like, was it last month?” he recalled. “We were on the couch and I used my legs to get you head-locked right up my ass ahah and then farted for like 30 seconds.” he couldn’t help but laugh at that memory, while still being disgusted.

I couldn’t blame him: this kink is gross, but I was grateful he also found it disgustingly amusing.

I can however blame him for my massive, damp boner instead: hearing Dave just casually recall our previous fart sessions was something I never expected to happen. What’s next? A clip-show episode?

And yes, I do remember the head-lock thing. I didn’t even ask for it but he just went for the fart-kill. I never ask for it, in fact: Dave walks the thin line between teasing me and straight-up bullying me with farts at this point, fully knowing how much I enjoy it...

I remained silent, hoping that we’d change the subject, even though the raunchy smell in the car kept reminding me of my bro’s powerful flatulences. His gas is like weed to me, when it comes to side effects, ‘cause I didn’t realize how much time passed; turns out we were like 30 minutes from home now: we did all the trip in one sitting, no pit stops or anything, just like daddy Tim likes it (please forget I called myself like that).

“Well Tim, you did it. You drove us home safe and sound, against all odds.” he mocked me.

“The odds being? You trying to poison me?” I dared to say.

That smirk, his signature smirk once again appeared on his face.

“Bro if I wanted to poison you, trust me, you’d have died miles ago.”

“Oh you trust me, my nostrils are burning.” I admitted.

My friend adjusted his position on the seat one more time in response.

“Just be glad you’re not getting this in your face.” he tried to be serious, threatening, but he just laughed in the end.

I tried to ignore what he just said, which I could easily do given what immediately followed: a loud, manly fart, already the loudest of the bunch. He’s done holding back: he was saving the best for last. The sheer power of the blast quickly renewed the horrid stench tarnishing the car; I felt soaked in my friend’s gas and I knew I had to take a long shower once I got home.

I should be glad this wasn’t in my face, he told me, and while I did want to get that blast up close and personal like we usually do... judging by the loudness, the power, the stench… maybe I should indeed be thankful. 

Dave farted in my face many times by now, and trust me when I say that I endured some of the longest, loudest, baddest farts you can imagine. So when even I tell you that yes, maybe this one blast should be admired from a safer distance, you know things are getting way too hardcore. This latest fart sounded similar to the others, but I could also sense it was raunchier, deeper, dangerous. It wasn’t wet or anything, but it was pure, raw manly power.

Just like my bro wondered how can I survive his farts, I wondered the same about his jeans, how the fuck his farts do not manage to tear a huge hole through of them. Those lucky, lucky jeans.

The fart kept going, so loud that I couldn’t even hear the radio, and while he wasn’t ripped in my face, it could very well have been: I felt the car shake due to its power and through the gas all round me I could taste the twisted, rotten version of the double cheeseburger Dave had not even 2 hours earlier.

Eventually, even this fart had to end, Dave leaning a bit so he could rip the loud last few seconds towards me, clocking at almost 30 seconds in total. An incredible display of talent, further proof that he’s the fart master.

After a few moments of awkward silence, in spite of my boner sucking all the blood from my brain, I managed to be brave enough to speak, ignoring my friend’s smirk.

“I could’ve handle it.” I stated, lowkey suggesting that next time he had a fart like this brewing, he shouldn’t worry about directly blasting my face.

Maybe not while I'm driving, obviously.

“You’re disgusting bro.” he said, without losing his smirk, then called for a brofist. “Respect.”

Disgusted, but amused, he did find impressive that I’m indeed able to endure his incredible blasts. As usual, as annoying as he can be, and as gross as I can be, I couldn’t ask for a better bro.

Finally, about 20 minutes later, in the dark of the night, I parked the car on our front-yard, by the garage.

Both me and Dave left the car gasping for some clean air. Opening the doors of my vehicle felt more like opening a tuna can, with all the smell trapped inside leaving the tiny space it was trapped into all at once: I could still smell my friend’s farts while walking towards our front door, a sign that my hair and clothes were soaked deep into his gas. Even Dave's backpack left a trail of gas.

As we finally stepped into our living room, we felt free, as if we successfully finished a very dangerous quest. My tired bro-roommate patted my shoulder and walked upstairs like a zombie, ready to collapse on his bed and sleep until the end of time probably.

“Thanks for everything, Tim. Told ya the gas was on me.” he simply said, half-asleep already.

Teasing aside, I decided to not destroy him with one of my snarky comebacks and let him go this time, since I had another urgency to take care of. It’s a miracle I managed to resist for the entire trip in those conditions!

I waited for my friend to disappear into his room before rushing into the bathroom, so I could properly get rid of my damp boner. I barely needed to touch my penis, all it took was my fingers tickling it; my dick promptly exploded, the power of Dave’s farts and attitude being impossibly hot for me.

I took a deep breath as I came and I could still feel bits of that stench deep down my nostrils, which made me wonder if I myself reeked of farts and rotten cheese.

…yeah, I’m definitely avoiding cheeseburgers for a while.

Road trips, however, I’m all for it, as long as Dave provides all the gas we need.

End of Episode 22

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #malefarts #gayfarts

[lin808101]

He said im weird #linphobic #homophobic #phobic #cancelled #notwap #wap #lesbian #willturnlesbian #ihatemen #fartkink #signal #sideeye

[lifewithdavefarts]

With roommates like Dave, you're gonna get blasted even when he's not at home with you, as him and Tim's chat history confirms. After all that's what friends are for... right?

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #malefarts #gayfart

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 21 “No Fart Run”[Episode List]

After having a couple of beers, Tim challenges Dave to do a “no death” run on a particularly hard and fast-paced game. He gladly accepts the challenge, on the condition that Tim has to watch the entire run… while having his head dangerously close to Dave’s denim ass.

POV: Tim

No Fart Run

“…and the last one of our so-called friends just ditched us for, I quote, Leopardy!” I said, reading a message on my phone, commenting our bud Adam’s excuse for not wanting do anything tonight, Friday night, of all days.

Since the original plan was going out, Dave was wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, whereas I had a white t-shirt and some sweatpants on, ‘cause I knew our buds were gonna ditch us at the last second so I didn’t even bother to change into something more appropriate for going out.

Truth to be told, there was a shitty weather outside and we all didn’t have anything big planned anyway, just a beer together at the usual place, as a way to wash the busy week away with some alcohol. To be honest, I don’t mind being at home, but I’m still going to make fun of everyone for being this lazy (though Leopardy! is that good, yes, I said it), despite being the king of lazy people myself.

My friend and roommate Dave wasn’t any less lazy than me, so yes we were both not-so-secretly relieved that we were going to spend the night at home just chillin’ and resting, so much so that as I read Adam’s message to my roomie, he immediately threw a can of beer at me. We had a good laugh about our “synchronized laziness” (in the form of mild alcoholism apparently), and we just headed for our beloved couch in the living room, discussing on what trashy movie we could watch together.

“Maybe Dana can join us.” I suggested.

“Oh. Am I not enough for you?” Dave said, jokingly offended.

“Sadly, no. Daddy’s hungry…” I replied, sounding as dumb as him.

He looked at me unimpressed. “Dana’s not in town anyway. That means you’re all mine.”

We both took a sip of beer and sat on the couch, Dave putting his feet on the coffee table in front of us. The TV was ON so we just mindlessly watched it while commenting the images on the screen, with my roomie sometimes replying with a very mature belch. We were just chillin’, we didn’t even need to put a trashy move on since almost all TV was trash anyway (except for Leopardy!, I must agree).

“By the way.” I said, changing the subject of our symposium. “I almost finished RunGun without dying.”

Calm down, ladies and gentlemen.

Both me and Dave are avid gamers, each of us having a particular set of skills. Maybe I shouldn’t even brag about this but we are pretty good, the bro sitting next to me especially.

RunGun is a deceptively simple game running on the fairly recent Play 4 (my main gaming console, which I brought here from my previous apartment), and it’s one of those “hard to master”, addicting, fast-paced platformers, you know the ones, with some shoot’em up elements thrown into it. It’s retro but also modern and we both enjoy it a lot, unsurprisingly. It’s not long, but it provides a tense challenge (just like my dick -this was a joke, laugh).

While we did beat the game and got an ending, we’ve both been trying to finish it as fast and as flawlessly as possible. However, being busy with our respective lives and jobs makes it hard to practice as much as we would have normally done with games like these.

“I’m impressed!” Dave replied, taking a big sip of beer, his way to propose a toast I guess. “Me too, actually. There’s a tricky saw cutter section in the final level that always gets me. And the boss is pretty tough too.”

Of course that implies that Dave only died in the final level, whereas I died a couple of times through the game, AND in the final level. As I said, he’s often a bit better than me.

“Well, I’m the one who’s impressed.” it was my turn to drink some beer in honour of someone’s skills.

“I think I can beat it with just a bit more practice. It’s doable.” he then said, reaching for the white gamepad on the coffee table, turning the console ON.

Looks like we were going to have a good old gaming night just the two of us, as it’s not like we had anything better to do, despite drinking. My mind went to the night Dave found out about my fart kink, in the worst (or best?) possible way. A night that was actually similar to this one, as it all happened while we were gaming. 

It was almost one year ago and we weren’t even roommates back then; time sure flies!

“You go first, handsome.” he said, handing the gamepad to me. “Let’s see those skills in action.”

As good as I am, I do tend to get a bit nervous when I do something while someone watches, even gaming sadly, but it’s all good. It’s just Dave, and RunGun, with all of its difficulty spikes (and, often, literally spikes), was all about memory so I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself too much. 

I breezed through the first few levels, easily defeating the mobs and the main bosses, even achieving some new personal records in the process; Dave occasionally complimented my skills and, while still making fun of me, was genuinely interested in seeing me pulling off the infamous “no death” run we were both trying to achieve.

“I swear if you dodge that giant hammer I’m gonna suck you off.” he joked.

Indeed, I dodged that and the rest of the level’s hazards quite easily, which prompted Dave to leap towards me to reach for my crotch (without actually touching it), his very mature way to root for me. He quickly resumed his previous position on the couch and kept watching.

For the last couple of levels I played much more carefully, occasionally getting hit (you have a couple of HPs luckily).

“Here come the fuckin’ saws…” I said, referring to the hazards my bro mentioned earlier.

I was sweating. Those circular blades were pretty common obstacles in the game, but in the final level they moved in different, disorienting patterns which would easily confuse anyone, kind of unfair game design we’re sure.

“You gotta jump over that one!”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!”

Things got unsurprisingly tense indeed.

But despite doing my best… the game made the “DEAD :(” screen flash on the screen, before quickly re-loading to the last checkpoint. The saw cutter right before the final boss got me. Jumping over that is NOT the solution…

“Fuck!” I said, frustrated but oddly relieved that it was over.

It’s a short game if you speedrun through it as I said, but ~20 minutes felt like hours.

“I need another beer. Want some?” I said, standing up and heading to the kitchen, before waiting for the obvious answer, which came in the form of a “Yes.” said through a loud belch.

“That was a good run, man.” I heard Dave normally say from the other room. “Well, up until you failed miserably.”

I laughed. “Only one death, bro.” 

I came back with alcohol; sat next to him and handed him a can of beer. We both took a sip.

“Impressive! But shouldn’t the death counter say zero?” he mocked me.

“Oh you wanna compare our death counters?” I played along, navigating the game menu.

Indeed, the counter had Dave at 3 deaths while I only had 1. 

“Ohhh you actually went there. You grew a pair. In your 20s!” he said, laughing. “Congratulations, such a late-bloomer.”

“Shut up and swallow the truth.” I flexed.

“Shut up and pull my finger.”

Why do I even flex when I’m a guy who’s getting farted on by my bro… and enjoys it?!

Dave extended his arm to me so I could pull his index finger, knowing exactly that it was a low blow, as I went silent immediately, a reaction that made him laugh.

“Ohhh you’re done talking now?” he mocked me, with a smirk. He wasn’t being malicious of course. “I’ll just pull it myself…”

And he did. Dave was sitting on the other side of the couch with his legs resting on the coffe table (his feet sporting a pair of surprisingly colorful socks), one stretched, one bent, so I could see a good portion of his loose denim ass, which I actually managed to ignore until now. Indeed a fart came out the moment he pulled his own finger, and it was as loud as they come, not very long though. It did sound (and reek) powered by beer, but my bro is always gassy and I’m sure that the mere act of breathing is fuel for his blasts.

“See? That’s the one thing you’re good at!” I promptly said, commenting the fart, still making fun of his death counter.

“Oh you know what?” that smirk again. “Give me that thing.” he reached for the gamepad and started a new run.

“Challenge accepted?” I remarked. 

“Watch and learn.” he then turned to me, before actually starting a new run. “Also…” 

Dave adjusted his position on the couch, without taking his feet and legs off the small table. He bent his left leg (the one closer to me) up a bit more and pulled his ass back a few inches.

“You’re getting front row tickets.” he laughed.

To my surprise, he gestured towards his bent leg, literally inviting me to, well, squeeze my head under it so my face would end up in front of his denim ass. What the fuck.

“W-what?” I stuttered. As usual, Dave simply laughed at my awkwardness.

“Come on: it’s a win-win scenario for you.” 

I both love and hate how Dave is so chill and comfortable around my kink and I do wonder what he actually meant with that. He lifted his left leg up a bit more, his way to insist with his… peculiar invitation, and to ease my way in.

Speechless, I simply obeyed. I lied down towards my bud, squeezed my head under his leg and as expected I ended up in front of that wall of jeans, directly facing the blue denim fabric around my bro’s powerful ass. The stench from his previous rip was still somewhat there, but I tried not to inhale too much. His ass was overwhelming to me in that pose, but I could still see Dave’s face however, staring down at me, trying his best not to laugh.

How is he letting me do this is beyond me, but I appreciated.

“Bro, the game’s the other way.” he simply said, with a smirk. “Contain your thirst.”

Damn, I felt so stupid, but in my defense… anyone would be awkward around my bro sometimes: he being so chill and open-minded is… disorienting, much like the late-game hazards of RunGun.

Without saying anything to further embarrass myself, I turned around, facing the opposite direction. Despite being with my head under Dave’s leg, I still had a good view of the TV, right beyond my bro’s feet resting on the table, which wasn’t tall enough to block my view. So there I was, lying on the couch, with the back of my head brushing against Dave’s denim ass. I wouldn’t compare this situation to “getting a front-row ticket”, but I guess I deserve this.

If I truly had to watch his entire run like this, that meant that I was gonna have my head dangerously close to his ass for the next 20~ minutes, a treat and threat at the same time!

“By the way, if I get a Game Over, you get blasted.” he stated. I could sense his usual smirk through his words.

I don’t like this gimmick. Dave was good at the game so I couldn’t rule out that he was gonna die on purpose just to mess with me. So here I was in the tense in situation in which, on one hand, I was rooting for him to beat the game flawlessly… on the other, and I know this will make me sound indeed thirsty… I did want him to blast me.

Nonetheless, I watched my friend playing as if that was the most normal situation we both ever experienced. Just like me, he breezed through the first couple of levels, even faster than me, but each 2-3 levels you gotta face a boss: they’re mostly pushovers but when you’re in a rush, they can and will kill you instantly.

Dave was really good at RunGun and this first boss acts as a filter for most gamers. This giant enemy crab (a reference to a certain meme I’m sure) was actually fairly easy once you knew how to face it, but it still could cast one particular attack that was almost impossible to dodge… and indeed it was gonna do it, charging his laser beam.

“Get on the right side of the arena, quick!” I suggested, ‘cause I knew there was a safe spot there.

Dave laughed. “Sorry dude, from my point of view it looked like the voice came straight out of my ass.”

I mean… he’s not wrong. Either way, my bro followed his butt’s suggestion and indeed he ended up winning the fight fast, easily and unscratched. A portal for the next world appeared, but before Dave could step into it I noticed him lifting his left leg in real life.

I braced for impact. He didn’t die but of course he was still gonna blast me one way or another. I even closed my eyes, but the sound I heard were not the ones of a fart being ripped… but rather one being sucked in.

He could fart on command, something that he doesn’t do often but I guess he wanted to showoff so, still facing away from his denim ass, I once again expected my entire head to be blasted by one of my bro’s farts.

But once again, after a couple of seconds of air being sucked in, nothing came out. The leg went down as it was before, and Dave resumed playing as if nothing happened.

What kind of mind tricks was he playing?! He sucked air in, so I knew there was a fart brewing right behind me. I felt like there was some wild, dangerous beast waiting to land a surprise attack on me, but I tried to focus on the game and, truth to be told, Dave’s skills were a sight to behold.

He was fast, he had great reflexes, he practiced a lot but he was so good I couldn’t help to compliment the way he was speedrunning through the game, while occasionally making fun of how lucky he was being, something that he reluctantly admitted.

Boss #2, some kind of giant evil butterfly, but honestly a cakewalk for both of us.

“World 3 already, no deaths. Scared, Tim?” he jokingly asked.

I turned around to face him… well, in theory, as I was facing his denim ass instead, but before I could properly respond, he lifted his leg again. I ended up with my nose being tickled by the fabric of his denim as more air was being sucked in: a weird sensation, but I was surprised. Dave looked down at me with a silly smile, as if he too had no idea what was gonna happen next. I wanted to ask, but again, his leg went down. He then pointed at the TV, so I faced the other way, my eyes once again glued on RunGun.

But I wasn’t very focused this time.

I could sense his ass behind me being, well, charged. I swear I could hear the gas he sucked in trying to come out, like a dormant volcano reaching its breaking point; and after Boss #3 went down, I heard more air being swallowed by my friend’s ass, thus confirming the pattern I was suspecting: Dave was gonna suck more and more air in each time he’d beat a boss… and there are 8 of them.

Dave was playing RunGun… but he was also playing a mind game with me I swear. For me this was like an endurance test of some sorts: I really wanted him to win the game without dying but at the same I couldn’t help but to be eager to hear what the fart he was charging up sounded like.

My heart started racing fasted as he defeated yet another boss… while having only 1HP left!

“Oof. That was close, ammirite?” he said, laughing. What a teasing bastard (but I cannot complain)!

He moved a bit, just to nudge the back of my head with his ass.

“What’s the matter, Tim? Is something bothering you? Why don’t you turn around and tell me ahah?”

Again, my roommate wasn’t being malicious in any way, but at this point he was clearly amused by the whole situation: I knew that he was brewing a big one, just like he knew that I wanted him to blast me with that. I guess that teasing me was something that he found hilarious, and given my awkwardness and how admittedly weird my kink is, I couldn’t blame him.

More bosses went down, and more and more air got sucked in by the ass behind me. How Dave managed to store all of that gas was beyond me. He didn’t even flinch, he was holding it in like a pro. And a pro indeed he was at RunGun as well, as he finally reached the final world. 

He adjusted his position a bit, as if I wasn’t even there, because shit got serious.

“Alright, if you got any suggestion I’m willing to listen.” he said, while sprinting through the level.

I fully paid attention to the game this time, the scar of my previous defeat still hurting. Dave dodged a dozen of saw blades but he was clearly having a hard time now: that final series of hazards would make anyone sweat.

“Listen to me, listen to your ass!” I joked, referencing what he said before. “If you want to dodge that fucking final blade, don’t jump above it: run under it as it falls.” 

“That’s crazy…” he paused for a moment, his character on the screen doing the same. “I’m gonna do it. If I lose it’s your fault.”

“You’re not going to, trust me!”

This was one of the most tense moments in our lives (yes, sad lives). My bro displayed once again an impressive set of skills but he did follow my suggestion… and he beat the level. I was kind of mad that I didn’t think of doing that during my run, but I was happy that he reached the final boss. It was hard, but nothing compared to the level before it.

“FUCK YEEEEES” we both yelled as the boss went down, because we’re very mature adult men.

The arena was empty and one last, bigger, more eventful portal appeared. We… well, he did it, he successfully finished a “no death” run of RunGun, something that we tried to do for weeks. I was smiling like an idiot.

And respecting the established pattern, Dave sucked more air in, this time for dozens of seconds.

I actually tried to move my head away but his leg held me in position.

I didn’t understand, so I turned around to face him and his ass, after he finished charging up.

“Dude. You didn’t die once!” I said. “You don’t have to do it.”

He just laughed. “Who said anything about dying?” 

I faced the TV again and… “Game Over” was written on the screen. And then I remembered: that text would appear even if you successfully finish game. Bunch of bastards, both Dave and the game.

I slowly turned around, as if I was heading for a death sentence… and given what that ass had in store for me, what my bro was capable of when it came to farting… that would very well be the case. My entire face was again overwhelmed by that wall of denim, the dark blue fabric tickling my nose. Dave had that silly smirk drawn on his face, staring down at me: this was both a treat and a revenge.

“Looks like I’m good at both, dude.” he stated, holding his gamepad up so I could see it. “So…” he then said, while extending his arm to me. “Are you gonna pull my finger now?” he laughed.

I wasn’t really in the position to do that, as I was lying down with my face planted in his ass.

“You know what? I’ll just do it myself again, tsk.” 

And then I felt him push, his denim ass in front of me getting even closer. This time I didn’t have to brace for the impact, because the beast did land its surprise attack in the end. 

A thunder, a sudden thunder, that’s how I can describe it. Imagine a deep-sounding fart stock sound, only louder, manlier, prouder. I’m surprised his jeans could withstand such force of nature. My head was shaking and the blast almost forced me to close my eyes, but I didn’t want to, I wanted to see that beautiful sight of my friend’s denim ass. Dave’s facial expression was the one of someone visibly ripping a powerful, hard-to-tame fart, because that’s what it was: my bro was the fart master but this time even he had a hard time containing such an enormous blast in; after all, he sucked so much air that I’m surprised his ass didn’t explode before.

And speaking of hard, I too had a hard time containing something in: unlike Dave’s ass, my dick was gonna explode for sure. I instinctively rubbed the tent I pitched in my sweatpants against on the couch, effectively having a sexual intercourse with Dave’s fart.

I didn’t know how much time passed: 10 seconds? 20 seconds? The fart was still going strong and the more it kept going, the more I planted my face into my friend’s ass, fully embracing the literal vibrations through the denim. The stench was there, I’m sure it was a mixture of natural beer farts and on-command ones, and the sound reflected that mixture, as the impressive display of flatulence sounded both “meat-y” and “air-y”. With Dave around you have no choice but to get good at distinguishing what kind of farts he’s ripping, regardless of the kink.

The fart was deep-sounding but for a couple of seconds it went higher-pitched and even louder, to which Dave reacted with a genuinely surprised look, while still trying hard not to laugh like an idiot.

40 seconds perhaps? I swear this was Dave’s longest fart since he found out about my fetish. I felt completely overwhelmed as my sweaty face was basically now almost under that roaring ass, the fart messing with my eardrums and making my entire head shake due to its sheer power.

I’ll never be thankful enough to our buds for ditching us at the last second, considering this was the direct result of a lazy Friday night, turned into a beer-fueled gaming night. But I guess Dave didn’t mind either, as this was amusing to him. I was so thankful to him for accepting me but I would have never thought that he’d be this chill, and go this far to just, well, destroy my face with his well-known farts.

Probably one minute passed and, once again proving how far my friend would go, he lifted his ass, without interrupting the continuous long fart, and simply sat on my entire head, all while the blast kept going.

His ass was basically smothering me now, but dear God this was an incredible experience. I was sweating and the hot fart coming from Dave’s ass didn’t help at all, not counting how the fabric of his jeans was warm and rough. I just let my bro fully crush me, as my face was becoming one with the couch under Dave’s weight. 

After 20 more seconds, the fart seemingly started to lose some power, but it wasn’t over yet: it wasn’t as loud as before but I felt Dave pushing harder, as if he wanted to make sure he ripped every particle of gas he sucked in, making the fart as last long as he could in the process. 

The smell was almost unbearable now, further proof that whatever was being ripped all over me was a mix of natural gas and on command. I love how this started as a chill, deathless speedrun of RunGun, and now here I mean, technically trying not to die in real life under my friend’s denim ass, getting blasted by the longest fart I ever heard. And I also heard Dave laugh as he leaned a bit, amused by how much he was farting himself. 

“Almost done man…” he muttered, but I could barely hear him over the sounds his ass was making.

He pushed more and more, slowly leaning to ease the remaining gas out. I was covered in sweat and my nostrils were burning. Saying “this is hot” is an understatement: I felt lucky, really lucky, to have my bro do this to me. I stared at that jeans ass still erupting the fart out, closely inspecting the seams and textures of the fabric: how much time, in the last year, I spent my time here, under or in front of Dave’s ass? We definitely need a fart counter more than a death one.

Dave finally resumed his previous pose, stretching his legs on the table, not sitting directly on my head anymore, and lifted his left leg to finally let me go, but not before pushing hard one last time, ending his impressive fart with a loud, long toot.

Finally, silence.

“…wait!”

Incredibly enough, Dave managed to rip yet another, one last loud fart, but at this point my ears were so used to that sound that it felt like the natural continuation of the previous one, which probably was anyway. 7 more seconds and finally, at long last, that impressive display of manly gas ended. I swear it probably lasted around 3 minutes, it’s incredible.

I carefully moved my head away now, with my friend letting me go, no legs holding me down this time. I could catch a glimpse of Dave’s usual smirk: he was just proud of his own skills, both at the game and as a farter. I guess he wanted to teach me a lesson after I made fun of him, like a real bro would do after all.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or not at this point.” I sincerely said, smiling, as I sat on my side of the couch.

Dave carried on as if nothing weird happened between us. “You should be thankful I let you survive that.” he joked, rightfully bragging about his fart skills. “And that I’m not making fun of your death count of course.”

“Yeah… I think I completely lost any bragging rights tonight.” we both had a good laugh.

“Well, you’re still the gayest person in the room.” 

“Says the guy who lets plant my face in his ass.” I sounded snarky, but it’s a miracle I wasn’t a stuttering mess saying this.

“Another thing you should be thankful for!” he laughed at my comment, throwing his empty can of beer at me.

“I’m gonna get some more.” 

I didn’t even try to hide my boner this time. I was indeed simply thankful that Dave was so chill, maybe too much, if that’s even possible. As I opened the fridge to get more beers, enjoying the cold breeze, I heard my bro talking from the other room.

“Well, would you look at that…” he said, probably checking something on his phone. “They’re gonna make RunGun 2!” 

His comment was followed by a quick, short and loud fart which, given what I just experienced, definitely sounded like a treat.

And I couldn’t be more thankful indeed.

End of Episode 21

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #malefarts #gayfart

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 17 “Fart Pillow” [Episode List] An exhausted Dave comes back home and crashes on the couch lying on his stomach, while Tim works on some stuff. However, Dave feels gassy and still wants to blast his bro’s face, so he lazily invites him to put his head on his butt…

Fart Pillow

Since my life is very interesting, I was doing a re-watch of an old show on Entflix. I finished working early so my laptop switched to “entertainment mode” and treated myself with some snacks. I was sitting on my now-iconic armchair, doing nothing. It was very cold outside and, for now, I was alone.

Literally the time of my life.

Dave was heading back home however. He told me about something big at work and then met up with his girlfriend Dana to have a quick dinner together, so I had to improvise. Nothing caught fire and the house is still here, so that’s a win for me.

Speak of the Devil, I heard the front door opening and someone stepping inside. I didn’t even have time to greet my roommate that he immediately threw a can of beer at me, which I promptly caught on the fly.

“Honey, I’m home.” he said, hanging his coat by the door and then heading for the living room.

More specifically, he went for the couch, and collapsed on it as if he passed out.

“Tough day?” I asked.

Lying down on his stomach, he turned only his head to face me. “You have no idea, man.”

“Did you get the raise at least?” that was the "big thing" at work.

“Hell yeah I did.” he proudly said. “And we spent the evening celebrating.”

“Wait…” I figured out why he was so tired. “So you didn’t do shit all day.”

“Besides drinking and eating, exactly.” we both laughed.

“Another busy day for Dave.” I joked.

“‘least I could for my trophy husband.” he snarkly said. “Thanks for not destroying the house.”

I put the laptop and the beer on the small table in front of me. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I had a pretty great dinner without you.” I tried to be snarky as well.

“Oh cool. Did you get pizza? Chinese?” he said, making fun of my skills, and rightfully so.

“Not to brag” I said, bragging “but I treated myself with some delicious mac ’n cheese.”

“Whoa… impressive! Truly an acquired taste!” his voice sounded so tired, yet the sarcasm was still sharp.

“Mock me as much as you want, but it tasted great and it smelt delicious.”

Dave simply chuckled in response this time, a smirk drawn on his face. Totally gave him the cue, didn’t I?

My bro was lying on his stomach and only then I noticed how great his butt looked in that position, which I instinctively stared at. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a bit loose, almost sagging. I could notice his muscles relaxing and pushing. The blast was loud, dry and almost “painful”-sounding. Whatever he drank or ate during the evening was definitely messing up badly with his stomach.

After 6 seconds his ass went silent, and he smirked at me. “Not as delicious as this.” and he laughed, rather immaturely, at his own cheesy line.

I had my usual startled moment but I quickly snapped back to reality, and laughed with him. “That’s a good one. You should have said it before the fart though.” I joked.

“Oh yeah bitch.” he said, in a stupidly-sexy tone “You like it when I talk dirty, don’t cha?”

We both had a good laugh again, but that didn’t stop the fact that I was madly aroused already by my bro’s talent and how open-minded he was of course; I’ll never get used to it.

“I’m not sure it smells as good as my mac ’n cheese though.” I joked, but Dave always had to one-up me.

“Only one way find out.” he said, with ironically a cheesy grin, patting his denim ass.

He was literally inviting me to put my face in there. There, I was already startled and nervous. Was he being sarcastic? Is this a test? Is this a line I shouldn't cross?

“Why?” I simply asked, my voice cracking.

“No way I’m gonna get up off this couch.” he replied, a bit more serious this time. “Also I don’t mind, believe me.” he then said, staring right at me, making sure those last words sounded as sincere as possible. As usual, that’s Dave finding me being nervous more annoying than my literal, disgusting fart kink.

I thought about it but in the end I felt this was line I didn’t want to cross. “T-Thanks bro. But I don’t know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortab-“

My blabbing was cut off by another loud fart, proudly ripped by Dave to mess with me. It was so loud he probably couldn’t even hear me even if he wanted to. It once again sounded disgustingly “meaty”.

“That’s my final offer.” he joked, after he finished ripping the 7-seconds fart. "Which is also what I told to my boss today by the way." he laughed again at his own words.

My bro insisting to have me planting my head into his ass was not exactly new, but it did made me feel incredibly lucky to have a friend like him. I stood up and, carefully hiding my boner, I stepped towards the couch and kneeled down so my head was aligned with my bro’s butt. I laid my face on it, as if it was a pillow, making sure I wasn’t directly facing down his ass as that felt a bit too much since my friend is straight an-

“Really?” I heard him say. “Bro it’s like you’re trying to hide that you have a fart kink I swear. I already know you like this stuff. Be a man and face my ass.” he said, mocking me for my lack of bravery and… lack of commitment to my fart fetish I guess?

Unbelievable. Just… unbelievable.

I laughed a bit but I was nervous as fuck, but I did what my bud encouraged me to do: I faced down and planted my face right into Dave’s denim-buttcheeks, the rough surface of the jeans tickling my nose, the butt still warm and smelly because of the previous farts.

I couldn’t see shit as my face was planted into my bud’s ass, but I could feel Dave turning around to see what I was up to. The silence was broken by my friend’s laughter.

“Tim… you look ridiculous.” he said, but he didn’t sound as mean-spirited as you may think.

I chuckled back and then turned my head a bit to face him, but he was lying down again, his face mostly hidden by the hood of his black hoodie, so I simply resumed my previous position, face down. It did smell great, and therefore terribly, but luckily he was not farting right now. I didn’t even take deep whiffs but a fart to renew the smell would probably physically hurt my nose.

The bastard probably read my mind as I felt his ass pushing. My heart stopped for a moment, realizing how “up close and personal” I was. Not the first time that Dave face-farted me by any means, but I was literally with my face planted into his ass, my nostrils going relatively deep into his denim buttcrack.

What followed was an immense loud fart that almost made me deaf for how strong it was. Honestly, it wasn’t probably different from the previous ones, but being this close to the source was a completely different experience. I felt my face shake and my nostrils burn due to sheer power of the blast. I managed to breathe in as he farted and it’s like I almost choked on his gas, so much so that I coughed a bit. It was one of the best/worst farts that Dave blasted me with, period, and it lasted around 12 seconds.

As the room went silent, the butt bounced a bit, probably a sign that Dave couldn’t help but chuckle like an idiot after showing off his talent. I didn’t dare to move: I was too embarrassed to personally check my bro’s reaction, let alone wildly aroused by the whole situation. I got teary eyed for the gas and the stench that it brought with it: those were Dave’s usual beer farts but with some extra raw power added to it.

The silence didn’t last long however. After one mere minute, another fart followed, which took me by surprise this time and almost made me leap back for how loud and strong it was. I swear Dave’s natural farts are almost always bigger and louder than the ones he can rip on command, and those can also get really loud, trust me. My face was warm and sweaty, my nostrils were burning: I kept breathing in even though I was enjoying the sound/power of my friend's farts more than their stench, as usual.

After 10 seconds, silence again. I was with my face still planted into that ass, but this time I badly needed to breathe some actual fresh air because no man could survive that, kink or not.

“Dude…” I heard Dave say.

I took a deep breath (big mistake) and turned around, only to find Dave staring back at me, while still lying down, smiling like an idiot and visibly tired.

“You ok back there?” he laughed.

I only managed to answer with a “Yes”, my voice cracking because I’m a mess. He answered with a very tired-looking smirk. Tired or not, Dave was a fart machine that couldn’t be stopped.

Minutes before I was afraid to cross an imaginary line, but Dave was way ahead of that line already. Still smiling like an idiot, he reached for my head with his left arm and clumsily grabbed it, pushing my face even deeper into his ass.

I didn’t say anything as I was speechless.

Dave’s ass, however, was quite talky instead, as I was immediately greeted by another incredible blast of gas, this time with my bro holding my face still, and pushing it a bit deeper into his butt as the he ripped it. Whatever I experienced for the farts before paled when compared to this one: it felt more powerful, deadlier, stronger. Up close and personal taken to the next level by the simple act of my bro reaching for my head to make sure I didn’t miss a beat.

14 seconds: good thing I was on my knees already, because one can only bow to the sheer power of Dave’s talent. My friend pushed me down a bit more and I could actually feel him spreading his legs a bit, as if he really wanted to devour my head with his ass. The fart got even louder as he did this but after 8 more seconds it finally stopped, ending with a loud final toot that sounded more like a duck.

Dave finally let me go but I didn’t move, nor he told me to leave. I just left my face planted into his ass a bit more, sweating, my nostrils destroyed. How was Dave okay with me and all of this made me feel a mixture of emotions: I was relieved, but also embarrassed, yet overall weirdly happy. No one dared to break the silence this time so I didn’t move, until I heard Dave… snoring.

It was then and only then that I finally raised my head, free from the clutches of that disgusting pillow, and managed to breath in some actual oxygen. I got up, unsurprisingly with a massive boner pitching a tent through my sweatpants, and checked on Dave: he fell asleep.

I thought whether I should wake him up or just leave him there, but knowing him it was probably for the best to just let him sleep on the couch: no one could make him move anyway. I still don’t know what was more exhausting to him: the partying or the face-farting; either way, he was sleeping now, so he wasn’t lying about being tired.

Dave wasn’t lying about the smell either, though I guess this particular smell is more of a, well… acquired taste.

The End

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 18 “Double T” [Episode List] Tim, Dave and Tom hang out in a pub to watch a football match together. On their way back home, Dave decides to showoff his farting skills in Tim's car.

POV: Tim

Double T

“So… those Lobsters are truly kicking your ass tonight… is that correct?” I said, sporting an unnatural smug with a guy I just met tonight, Tom.

“The Wasps are gonna sting your sorry ass in a minute, just you wait.” he replied.

Dave, who had no say either way because tonight his preferred team, the Badgers, weren’t even playing, simply laughed at our very mature bickering.

Tom is a cool guy, honestly. He has kind of a hard shell (I can relate) but I can see a pretty chill personality through the cracks. I mean we’re basically insulting each other like true vitriolic buds even though we met less than 2 hours ago. He also casually mentioned that he’s gay, which is ironic because I’m instead hiding it, something that Dave noticed and is doing his best to not laugh at my paper-thin disguise of a straight person.

“Aaaand you just got stung!” Tom stood up and chugged his beer in one gulp.

I had no beer, as I was the designated driver, but I was calm. We’re in the lead and honestly those Wasps are all bark and no bite… or puncture I guess?

“It’s the second half. It’s over.” I said.

“You wish. Foster just dribbled half your crustaceans friends.”

Oh. He truly did.

“Aaaand you just got stung again. Scared, Slade?” now he was the one getting smug, and rightfully so.

If this ends in a draw I’m gonna regret waking up today.

Dave was oddly silent and I’m pretty sure he was here just to enjoy the show, the Tim&Tom show that is. And drink beer of course.

The last few minutes of the match were nerve-wrecking for both of us. Wasps and Lobsters jumped at each other throats continuously and the crowd around us didn’t even flinch as their eyes were glued to the screens.

In the end, the plot twist: the Wasps scored one last point at the last second, thus ending the match in a draw. An embarrassing, frustrating draw. Tom (and other supporters in the pub) celebrated as if they won, ‘cause as long they gave us Lobsters trouble, they were fine with it, a classic sport rivalry as old as time.

“That’s life, Tim.” Dave finally said, amused by the whole situation.

After the match we ordered another round of beers and discussed the game while being as civil as possible, which means that we basically jokingly insulted each other the whole time in a way or another. I did have a sip of beer in the process, but that’s where I stopped because of the driving-thing.

The whole accidental “mexican standoff” between Tom and me kept going, as I hid my homosexuality while he more than once casually mentioned it. I like this guy but at the same time I just met him, so I want to make sure what kind of person he is. Dave seems to trust him a lot already and as much as I trust his judgement, I want to decide for myself.

After almost 2 hours it was time to leave: we paid for our beers and left the place. My car was parked basically in front of the pub and as I reached for my key, I heard a thunder behind him.

It was Dave being an air-bender on both ends, as he this time emitted a loud belch. Not really my kink, but I do appreciate a potent display of stereotypical manliness.

“That’s how I call shotgun.” he told Tom as he walked past me to get in the passenger seat.

But Tom however quickly responded with an even louder burp, because we’re that mature. Not only it was loud, it was long and fairly impressive. At least when it comes to burps, Dave may have finally found his match.

“That’s how I call it instead.” Tom laughed and he victoriously went for the seat. Dave just smiled and accepted this rare moment of him being defeated at his own game.

Once we were in the car, Tom (after asking my permission) turned the radio on and tuned it to a radio station that played some prog-rock songs I was actually familiar with -he kept the volume low though, as we kept chatting on our way home.

Dave, who was sitting in the back seat (and occupying half of it being very tall and all), was our first stop, as he slept with his girlfriend Dana at her place tonight.

“You ok with this?” Tom asked me all of the sudden, showing me a pack of cigarettes.

“Sure, no problem. Just open the window first.” I didn’t mind, really. Not the first time I had a smoker in the front seat anyway.

Tom pulled on his cigarette and a cloud of smoke surrounded his face, which immediately dissipated because of the car window being open as I asked. The smell of ashes didn’t bother me much as I myself smoked a couple of times in the past. He then flicked his cigarette onto the roadside, casually extending his arm outside of the vehicle.

“Don’t worry, Tom.” Dave said, while mindlessly checking his phone. “Tim is used to people hot-boxing his car.”

On the rearview mirror I could see his usual smirk drawn on his face, despite the car being mostly dark. He leaned a bit, man-spreading his long, jeans-clad legs.

“You may want to get used to this.” I turned to Tom, with a deadpan expression.

“Trust me, I know.” he said back to me, taking a long puff off his cigarette, failing to hide an amused smile.

The sound being a bit muffled by the car’s seat didn’t make Dave’s fart less loud in any way: it was as powerful as they usually come. I kept my eyes glued on the road as the deep-sounding beer blast shook the car. I was by far very familiar with my bud’s farts and this one was among one of the best I heard from him in the last few weeks (how he still manages to impress me is an incredible feat on its own). Dave was still fiddling with this phone, probably messaging with Dana, while he effortlessly kept his ass roaring, as his “cool smirk” morphed into a stupid laughter when the blast reached the 10 seconds mark.

On the mirror I then saw him making a quick eye contact with me, and winked, which almost made me swerve because Dave is also a very handsome guy, which I sometimes I pretend to forget.

Tom took another puff off his cig and then stared at it for a moment. “Now I feel stupid for asking.” he joked, as Dave’s fart kept going loud and proud.

At the 16 seconds mark (one of his longest farts probably), silence, and Dave sat back normally.

“Are you finished?” I asked.

“A-Side, yes.” he laughed, as he leaned again, this time towards the other side. “B-Side however…”

And another fart erupted, which made both me and Tom laugh like idiots this time. Interestingly it was even deeper-sounding than the previous one: truly a master air-bender.

“Welcome to my life.” I turned to Tom again, with the fart easily silencing the radio.

My fart-forged friend just shook his head and laughed, more smoke coming out of his mouth. Even if we tried to keep talking about tonight’s game, we would have a hard time hearing each other because of Dave showing off his farting skills behind us. And remember: the sound was partially muffled! He’s incredible.

This second display of flatulence was however shorter as it “only” lasted 11 seconds. Thanks to the car window being open, the stench of my straight bud’s gas wasn’t that overwhelming, but it did mix a bit with Tom’s smoking, creating a peculiar aroma… that made me open my window as well while coughing.

“Ok… we were saying?” Dave chuckled.

Truth to be told I forgot what we were saying about the game… and Tom’s the same, interestingly enough. Either way, Dave farted for the whole trip as I was already parking in front of Dana’s house.

Before Dave left we did chat a bit more however, the time it took Tom to finish his cigarette. We agreed to do this whole thing again, same time same place, next week, this time with Dave driving so I’ll be able to drink.

“Take care of the house, babe.” he jokingly told me as he leaned towards me and planted an exaggerated, cartoon-ish kiss on my right cheek. “Don’t be jealous, Tom.” he then joked.

“I’ll survive.” he played along.

We made sure Dave got into Dana’s house (she actually trusted him with a copy of her keys), then turned the car around and left. Tom didn’t live far: it was a 10 minutes trip at worst.

This was actually the first time I was alone with him tonight, but honestly this guy is pretty chill. He was the one who broke the silence first however.

“Dave’s pretty cool, uh?”

“You falling in love with him?” I joked, because I’m a hypocrite.

“Are you?” he asked back, with a smirk.

I simply laughed and kept driving.

“I like how chill he is around gay people you know.”

I smiled. “Yeah, he’s always been pretty cool around me.”

It took way longer than I care to admit for me to realize…

“I-I mean y-you. He’s pretty cool around y-you” I failed at damage control.

But Tom simply lit another cigarette in response, eyes glued on me, amused.

“Don’t worry, it was obvious.”

“Wow I’m bad at this.” I simply stated.

“Yes.” he chuckled. “But it’s also me having a very spot-on gaydar.”

The conversation kind of naturally ended up being about, well, us. How did we find out, our first unrequited crush, pretty tame stuff actually (after all, we just met). Tom was a bit more rough-looking than my other buds and, as far as stereotypes go, I probably wouldn’t have guessed that he was gay had he not said it himself, but he was definitely a chill, nice guy. After all, he and Dave got along pretty fast, and my straight bud usually attracts fellow chill guys. He has some kind of aura…

10 minutes flew by as I was already parking in front of Tom’s house this time. We kept chatting a bit more however.

“You’re an actor?” I asked.

“Sort of…” he chuckled. “As of now I’m kinda stuck with your friend Greg.”

“Greg?! I’m really sorry to hear that.” I joked… maybe.

“It’s fine, y’all are pretty chill guys, trust me.”

“Wait…” what a small world. “A couple of weeks ago I took Dave to Greg’s warehouse…”

“Yes.” he cut me short. “We’re working together, but I can’t tell you anything, sorry.” he laughed.

“Why? Greg’s making you fuck?” I joked.

Tom almost choked on his own cig trying not to laugh.

“Can’t tell ya.” he said, smoke coming out of his mouth. “Maybe we are.” he winked at me.

Why is everyone winking at me lately?

“Thanks for the ride man. You’re not so bad… [burp] for a filthy Lobster I mean.” he gently punched my arm and then got off the car, before I could come up with a super duper smart comeback to destroy him.

As a gentleman, I again made sure that the guy I just left got into his house safe and sound. I reached for the car keys and I drove back to me and Dave’s place.

While driving, I thought about Tom. He's nice. And it’s also cool how he and Dave are actually working together… to a porn? Because Greg is having this “porn phase” and… wait… is Dave “gay for pay”? Am I thinking too hard about this? What’s going on between those three? Was it porn all along? Is Greg the leader of a cult? Are they all fucking each other while Greg laughs maniacally?!

Those are all fair and very rational questions, which I would have kept asking myself, but as I finally got home and stopped the car, I felt my phone vibrate. I reached for it and pulled it out of my pocket: it was a message from Dave, obviously.

“Wait a minute… Tim and Tom?! What are the odds?!”

Very perceptive, Dave.

The End

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 15 “OnlyFarts” [Episode List] Dave wonders whether he should actually make money out of his talent and asks Tim to be his camera operator for a couple of… test videos.

OnlyFarts

“Are you *really* sure about this?” I asked.

Dave’s request felt really… weird, and I know I’m not really in the position to decide what is and isn’t weird about my bud, considering what he does for me…

“Look, you’re literally the only one I could ask.” he said, laughing a bit. He was more than aware that his request was indeed strange but then again, he had a point.

When Dave came back from work today, we chatted a bit while having our classic beer on the couch, he then, as usual, ripped a couple of his usual loud farts to mess with me a bit. However, after a couple of, well, masterpieces, he asked me about OnlyFans and if it was possible to make money with this stuff. I personally don’t pay anyone for what it’s essentially fart-porn (as I openly told him), and even if I wanted to I’d feel stupid considering how open-minded Dave is being about my fart kink, face-farting me almost daily (as I didn’t tell him).

“We could use some extra bucks you know” Dave simply told me, and I like how he said “we”. “It’s super gross and weird but if there’s people out there willing to pay even just to see a bit of-“

And he made the couch shake a bit to prove his point, just casually ripping one of this loud 10 seconds beasts.

“-who am I to judge?” he smiled at me, this last line being mostly about me I guess.

The request was essentially me being the one filming him, for a couple of reasons: I’m a trusted friend and probably most importantly, since I have a fart kink myself, I could actually give him suggestions and as his cameraman I could come up with some great angles that me and other guys like me may actually enjoy.

“Don’t feel forced though.” he then said, but I wasn’t feel forced or anything. “It’s not like I can’t come up with other ways to blast you whenever I feel like it.” he laughed again.

“Is that a treat or a promise?” I jokingly asked.

He answered with a short, loud fart. “Yes.” and then winked at me.

I played along and laughed, then resumed working on my laptop.

“You’re so talented.” I said. “Why not share your skills with the unworthy world around us?” I tried to be deep.

Dave laughed a bit. “Thanks bro. We can start right now if you’re not too busy.”

I indeed wasn’t anymore. I reached for my phone and-

“No no, use mine. Your phone sucks, full offence.” and he handed his smartphone to me.

It was a different model but I easily got used to the camera. Dave, still sitting next to me on the couch, sporting a white shirt and pair of jeans, started explaining in a surprisingly serious-ish tone what we were gonna do.

“Okay, I’ll start with a couple of jeans farts. Make sure to not film my face and resist the urge to put the phone away to plant your face in my ass.” he tried to be serious, he really did, but then laughed.

I didn’t feel insulted, and it’s not like he was going for that. I actually like how we both started joking more and more (when it’s just the two of us) about my weird kink, further evidence how chill he was around me.

Hearing Dave talk about his first OnlyFans video as if he was directing a movie did sound funny to me however.

“You sound like Greg.” now that’s an insult. “What did he do to you? You can tell me… you’re safe now!”

Dave chuckled in response. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”

My straight then put himself into what essentially was a fart position, one I was very familiar with, with his jeans ass pointed at me and his long legs almost wrapping around me. He then started sucking air into his denim-ass, because he’s a talented bastard.

“Okay basically pretend the camera is your face.” he said, and I’m surprised we didn’t laugh.

As I… approached to his soon-to-be-roaring ass I managed to drop my first suggestion.

“Dave I hope I can tell you this but… I’d rather don’t get too close you know, just to have a better view of your ass as your fart.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Dave laughed.

“Sorry Tim, I swear I’m not laughing at you, but you do agree that’s fucking weird right?”

“Hey, you wanted the help of an expert, so you better accept it!”

“Ooohh someone’s balls just dropped.” he joked. “But I guess you’re right.”

We both adjusted our positions bit, Dave showing off his denim ass as I positioned myself for a better angle, making sure his face was not visible however, as he requested. I tapped the big red REC button and started filming, which apparently for my bud meant that he could start ripping on of his loudest farts ever.

There’s almost no difference between his natural and his on-command farts and this one, as weird as it may sound, sounded like a mixture. Picture the most classic-sounding fart and extend it for like 15 seconds, and make it louder. Dave’s talent kept surprising me even though I got to experience it daily and… up close and personal.

As he farted, I moved the camera just a bit to make the clip more… dynamic I guess, as I indeed fought the urge to not plant my face into his denim ass ‘cause that fart was incredible.

After almost 20 seconds, the fart stopped, and Dave whistled in relief, as if he was himself surprised by his skills.

“How was it?” he asked, as he sat normally on the couch now.

We both watched the clip on his phone and that felt surreal to me, especially considering how serious we were about it… for the most part.

“That’s disgusting.” Dave said. And then patted my back playfully. “So it’s great!” he chuckled.

And it was indeed great. This short, one-fart clip was better than the many farts I bumped into on the internet. I almost felt sorry he made him use his phone but then again, I’m weird, but I would have never saved fart clips of him on my own phone behind his back… or ass in this case.

“I feel one coming.” he quickly stood up and leaped back on the couch, towering over me. “You okay with doing one from below?” he just casually asked me, as if he wasn’t aware of how hot all of this was to me… but I’m sure he knew it and was having fun teasing me.

“O-okay” I said.

We agreed that I simply lay down with him squatting just a bit over my head, aligned with the camera. You know, just two bros filming farts, nothing weird around here, move along.

I was facing up, that denim ass hovering over me, and then tapped the REC button again.

Once again, the fart was gargantuan, and made me wonder how it was even possible to fart like this and so loudly in mere minutes. This was kind of a new position to me so as the blast of gas and the stench engulfed my face, I did enjoy the show myself, so I’m sure the people on the internet will do the same.

12 seconds and the fart stopped. Dave sighed in relief and stepped down the couch, then smirked at me, confirming that he was fully aware that his cameraman was enjoying his job bit too much.

As we did minutes before, we re-watched the clip we just filmed, discussing on how to eventually improve the view/angle, but certainly not the farts that were more than perfect.

“Okay I feel another one.” Dave again stood up and placed himself in front me, his butt aligned with my face as I was still sitting down.

I pointed the camera at his ass, ready to film another great blast.

“Nah bro. You’re doing a POV for this one.” he chuckled.

And he reached for my head, planting my face into his denim ass, gently but firmly holding it in position. He didn’t fart immediately so I had the chance to feel the stench of his previous blasts, but then his buttcheeks-muscles relaxed and, unsurprisingly enough, my entire skull was blasted by one of Dave’s loud, powerful rips.

My bud still held my head still as I almost went deaf because of his fart. His long, loud, proud fart, as manly as you can imagine. He lifted his left leg a bit to more easily rip this one out, as my head was basically glued to his denim, the rough surface of his jeans tickling my nose.

Indeed it was POV, with the POV being mine of course, though technically the previous farts were also PO- you know what who cares. Dave was ripping his best fart of the night directly into my face, for no reason at all. He got nothing out of this but still did it because, well, he’s the best I guess.

18 seconds and it stopped. I felt sorry I couldn’t film it for him. He turned around, sporting his usual smirk.

“We could have filmed it bro!” I said.

“I know.” he laughed, as he sat next to me on the couch. “But I got a hunch that my cameraman is a bit too much into this.” he joked.

“You can’t trust anyone these days.” I played along.

I handed his phone back to him. We only made two clips, but the material was already insane.

“So… what are you gonna do with those?”

“Well, first of all.” he said, casually tapping stuff on his smartphone. “I’m gonna send those clips to a thirsty bitch you may know.”

And my phone notified me immediately after that.

“Very funny, bro.” I said, sarcastically, but I couldn’t believe that he actually sent those two farts to me, fully knowing that I got this kink.

“Then… I don’t know, Tim.” he sounded thoughtful, confused. “Some extra bucks is always great but do you think I should do it? Isn’t it weird? No offence.”

The question kind of caught me off guard as he looked very sure only minutes before, but indeed it was a fair question. I personally wouldn’t care if he had an OnlyFans, regardless of the content he’d choose to do.

“Only if you feel like it.” I simply said, not really being helpful I’m aware.

But Dave did seem to appreciate my answer, despite how basic it was.

After a moment of silence, my bud’s phone got a couple of messages, which he promptly read.

“I gotta go. Greg wants to see me.”

I wonder what’s going on with those two lately.

“Wanna join us?” he asked me.

“Thanks bud but as you can see my night is already crazy enough.” I said, as I reached for my laptop to watch some shit on Netflix.

“Wow… don’t have too much fun without me!”

Dave walked towards the front door and reached for his jacket.

“And don’t have too much fun with the videos I sent to you.”

He laughed again and then left, without giving me the time to destroy him with a snarky comeback that I totally wasn’t in the position to do. So I simply reached for a beer and played some shitty movie on Netflix, trying to fight the urge to watch those videos.

Don’t know what he’s gonna do with OnlyFans, but as of now, I’m definitely his only fan…

…that was terrible I’m sorry you had to read it.

End of Episode 15

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts