Jessie is cruising in the mall bathroom, desperate for a little sexy fun to spice up his Monday evening. He’s got the stall with the gloryhole and all he has to do is wait until someone enters the stall on the other side.
Someone comes in and takes the stall, but Jessie’s erotic hopes are dashed when he realizes the other guy isn’t cruising. Rather, the other guy has a bad case of noxious gas and needs to get it all out.
As Jessie sits in the stall, contemplating what to do, he realizes that instead of being disgusted at being surrounded by horrific farts… he’s actually being turned on. This could be the Monday night fun he’s been looking for.
Taking a risk, he makes a dangerous proposition to the farting man…
Cruising for Fart Sex is a 5,300 word short story.
The door to the men’s room clatters open.
I quickly shut off the phone and shove it into the pocket of my jeans, still pooled around my ankles. I listen intently to decipher if this guy is here to take a piss at the urinals or if he’s gonna come in the stall next to me — the only other stall here — to stick his dick in my face.
My heart beat kicks up a notch when my stall door rattles urgently and he lets out a groan of discomfort, then he barrels into the stall next to me. Given the urgency, I doubt he’s here for a blowjob. Dude’s gotta take a shit.
It takes all of my willpower not to lean forward and down to look at him through the gloryhole. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t make a few other discreet peeks. As he pulls down his pants and underwear and sits on the toilet with a loud clatter, his foot ends up under the stall divider between us. I gawp at it — a dirty work boot in, what, size thirteen?
As if my hand and cock have a mind of their own, I start stroking as I imagine the beefy, sweaty, hairy, masculine construction worker that’s likely on the other side — and the giant cock he’s probably packing in his pants.
He lets out a groan of discomfort and then — prappp-fffttttt-papapapa-ffttttt— he farts so loud it echoes in the bowl and the walls almost shake. And then like a nuclear bomb, the stench hits me. Holy fuck. That reek could peel the paint off the walls.
And in that, I’m reminded of when I was particularly drunk at college last year. My roommate and I had come back from having beers and burritos, so not only were we drunk, but we had gas like nothing else. And being the kinky frat pigs we are, we dared each other to sniff each other’s farts. One thing led to another and soon we took turns going balls deep in each other as we farted on each other’s dicks. It was the filthiestsex I’d ever had, the kind that I would always remember and would probably never repeat.