These men can’t deny their taboo desires any longer. They love farts from manly men. Nothing gets them more turned on than being forced to swallow down some of that toxic gas — and it leads to the hottest sex they’ve ever had.
This gassy and taboo bundle includes the following previously-published gay fart sex stories:
- Sniffing the Jock’s Farts
- Swallowing the Cop’s Farts
- Cruising for Fart Sex
- Fart Sex With My Boyfriend
Give in to your own curiosity and long-denied desires with this 19,000-word bundle of raunchy, smelly sex.
Muscles seems to get the hint, seems to know what drives my faggy desires. He angles his hips a bit, causing his deliciously hairy ass cheeks to spread and expose his tight, manly hole. It’s tightly knotted; this Alpha God has obviously never bottomed. If I were to show him my hole, he would see what a well-used ass looks like. We’re so different. We’re so perfectly matched.
I stretch my tongue up, trying to reach that amazing and perfect knot of flesh. Just as the tip of my tongue touches it, Muscles flinches.
“Everything okay, Sir?” I ask.
He looks over his shoulder at me, almost shyly. “How much of a pig are you, fag?”
My heart does a pitter-patter of excitement. “Very much so, Sir.”
He squats closer to my face, his tight asshole right in front of my mouth and nose. I stick my tongue out and caress the perfect flesh, lapping up more sweat. Here, though, the taste is drastically different. It tastes like he hasn’t washed his ass in days. I’m tasting things that would turn off most men — even most fags — but for me it drives me up the fucking wall with horniness. I have to fight with myself to not use my hands to grab those perfect, muscular ass cheeks and part them so that I can dig my tongue ever deeper into him. I have to obey the no touching rule.
I just wish I could get more.
Then Master lets out a grunt. I pause in my licking, uncertain of what’s coming next. Muscles’ asshole quivers, then opens.
He farts, letting loose a long, noisy, filthy one. I raise my head and bury my nose in his crack, right against his hole. I huff that fart, fill my lungs with his stench. It smells like the men’s room at a greasy taco dive, the kind where the beans run right through you. And I love it.