Tiny Nina’s Amazing Farts

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During one summer in between my second and third year of grad school, I had no choice but to find a part-time job. I got lucky and easily glided into a menial position at a bookstore downtown. At the time, I was single, having just broken up with a girl much younger (and not at all into anything butt-related, no fault on her part, of course, but we didn’t connect anyway).

I met Nina within the first five minutes of my first day. It was early June, yet she wore black tights, a nice dress, and cardigan sweater. She varied the same attire all summer because the bookstore was always very chilly. She was 5 feet flat and had dark, curly hair. At most, she was 99 lbs. She had glasses and wore a wedding ring, something I found out later was more of a piece of costume jewelry, at least at that time.

She was unofficially my supervisor. We worked together, mainly pulling books to fulfill online orders. Within a week, we were friends, and within two weeks, we were fucking.

She and her husband were on the the outs but were still living together because he had a high-profile job for the city and he didn’t want it to look unseemly. Seemed insane to me, but it left her wide open to indulge on her festering wild streak.

“Does you husband care that we’re hooking up?” I asked after our third or fourth fuck. I sort of assumed he knew. I had no experience with married people.

“Does my husband even care one way or another?” she asked, answering my question. She was getting dressed and heading to the bookstore for a swing shift. I lived about a six-minute walk to the bookstore. I had the day off.

“For the first time in 10 years, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And I will,” She said.

“Am I the only one?”

“For now,” She said. She bent over to slip on her flats, exposing her tights-covered ass. She had the cutest butt. Like two grapefruits.

We kept fucking and I honestly don’t know if I remained her only sexual partner. We played it safe, with condoms, etc.

She started in on the dirty stuff even before I could ask, which is always ideal. For instance, one time I was eating her little pussy (which was perfectly hairy, not too much, just nice stubble), and she said in a breathy whisper, “Now my ass… go deep in my ass….” So I did and it was amazing. Of course.

She wasn’t a hippie, but she has a certain hippie and airy attitude. For instance, she showered only three times a week and did yoga outside every morning. I had never been with a girl like that. And in a very welcome turn of events, she started using the bathroom in front of me.

At first, she peed with the door open when we were drinking at my place. Then she had me go in with her as she did, so we could “keep talking.” (We really connected and while we got really dirty and fucked non-stop, we also really enjoyed each other’s company.)

I would stand near my bath tub as she peed and within the first few times, she began farting as she peed.

“Sorry,” she would say, “isn’t that unladylike of me??”

“It happens.” I said, playing it cool.

“You know, girls fart, too.” she said, with an edge of glee.

“I know, I am totally OK with it!”

“Is it bad that I like that?”


“That yalova escort you aren’t grossed out by me farting,” she said, wiping.

“Well how could I be?!” I said, faking incredulity.

“Ben told me to never fart around him. Said it disgusted him. Said he didn’t marry a pig.” Ben was her husband and I knew of him but never met him. He was a dickhead though, that is for sure.

She stood and flushed and pulled up her tights. We walked back our to my dining room table. (That is a very liberal way of referring to it.)

“So you never farted in front of your husband…ever?” I asked. Seemed reasonable enough to question.

“Never. My stomach is likely permanently fucked too because of it!” She laughed and came to sit on my lap, playfully. I was seriously like a foot and a half taller than her but she had six years on me. “No pissing in front of him. No farting. No pooping.”

I grabbed her around the waist, steadying her. “So now that you can fart for me, you are going to fart, like, all the time, huh?” I asked, again, kind of joking.

“All the–” she bent closer to my face and let out a tiny sharp fart, “time.”

She kissed me and I could feel the heat from her asshole as she resumed her position on my leg/knee. “Oh my god… are you hard now?” she asked, with excitement either real or playful. (Kind of a theme going on here.)

“Always hard for you.” I said.

“Are you….hard for my butt? For my dirty, stinky butt?” She smiled, coyly.

“Always.” I said.

She got up and said goodbye and asked me if I would be around later. I said of course. I began drinking and waited for her return.

At about 9:30 that night, Nina returned. She was on the phone as she came into my place.

Into the phone she said, “I’ll be home later. OK? Is that OK?” and hung up.

“I hate him so much,” Nina said.

“Me too,” I said.

“It sounds crazy and childish, but I just want to fart in his face now.” We both laughed. What a weird thing to want to do, right?

“I want to poop in his coffee mug,” she said and we laughed some more.

“I want to fuck you now as if he was watching,” she said.

I was buzzed and bold. I said, “Why not fart in my face now?”

She paused and kicked off her shoes, then went to my bedroom without saying anything. Then finally, she yelled, “Hurry!”

So I hurried!

She was in the standard face down ass up position only wearing her standard black tights. No dress or bra. Her glasses had fallen off.

“Ready?” she asked. “I’ve been holding this one all night.”

I got near her and sort of knelt down by her ass. She was so tiny and tight. It was absolutely marvelous.

She took a deep breath, held it, and then let out the most guttural fart. It wasn’t loud, but there was definitely some action going on. She let out her breath and said, “Go ahead, you want to smell it. Smell it then.”

I got closer and huffed her gas in and coughed. It was spicy but didn’t smell all that bad. “Wow. Who would ever guess such a tiny girl could have such a big fart…” I said.

“That felt so good!” She said. My cock was so hard that I unbuttoned my pants and unzipped my fly.

I kind of groaned… yalova escort bayan “Mmm I bet it did.”

She said, “I mean, I don’t know why, but farting FOR you felt good… like, now I am horny. Such a weird feeling.”

“Can we fix that horniness problem now?” I asked, gaining her consent without asking her “can we fuck,” or forcing myself on her. (Consent is the most important thing anyone can do in any situation.)

“Why are you still talking? Come on, fuck me,” Nina said, peeling her tight tights down to her knees. Her little feet still clothed.

I fucked her for only three minutes because she kept reaching back to spread her tiny butt cheeks wide, and said things like, “Look at the pooper. Fuck my pussy and look at it. You like that poop hole. You know what comes from that hole?”

I could barely hear her as she said those things because her face was down into my comforter. But she was kind of shouting it. It was clear that she had so many deep issues she was exorcizing. She was doing all this because her husband was so oppressive. At least that is what I can only assume.

I wasn’t wearing a condom so I pulled out and shot all over her tiny back. Some of my cum got into her hair.

I wiped her up quickly and we collapsed together on my bed. Before she left, she said, “I don’t love you. I don’t love anything. But that was seriously hot. That was life-changing for me.”

She left and I didn’t see her again till before our next shift, a Wednesday.

We chatted for a bit, and she farted on my couch and giggled. “You’re horny now aren’t you?” she said.

“Always horny for you!” I said and smiled. It was a game, I now see. I am not complaining.

“Let’s not fuck now, and then at work, let’s see how riled up we can get you for later.”

I was disappointed. I always counted on our pre-work fucks. I am such a programmed twit that way.

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, I ate a big breakfast. Let’s see how well you do with me and my farts in public.”

“Oh come on…” I said. “You don’t fart in public.” I actually meant this. She might have been sort of on the hippie/earthy side, but in public, Nina was the consummate, put-together woman of 31. A real politician’s wife. (Ben was in that general field of work, like a dickhead.)

“Says who?” She said, coyly. Smiling a sweet and sinful smile.

We walked to work and chatted about movies we wish we could see together. Keep in mind, she was married and we were merely “friends” and “coworkers” to everyone else. We couldn’t be public and she also was never going to leave Ben for me. She didn’t love me, at least not like that.

The shift was busy. We were packing orders and fielding requests. It was cold in the store and in the stock area as always, but we both were working up a sweat. About an hour and a half into the shift, she began to deliver on her filthy promise.

“Hey Pete,” she called across the store, “can you come here for a sec?”

A dutiful coworker, I went over and we were briefly alone near the back area when she said, “Hold the ladder while I grab this order.”

I held the ladder as she climbed up. Her ass was at my shoulder level and soon, I smelled a fart. My escort yalova cock bounced in my pants. She descended the ladder with the book she was seeking.

“OK. Got it. Thank you,” she said and winked.

“Wow,” was all I could say.

Later the same thing happened. Then a bit after that, she stood near me, looking at the shelf of books and said, “Your shoe’s untied” to me.

It wasn’t but I had an idea of what she was doing. I bent and this time, her fart was louder than the others. Also smelled much much worse (better).

I stood and whispered, “Damn.”

“Yeah…. yeah well….” she said, looking around. “Follow me. come on.”

She led me to the bathroom, a tiny single toilet room way in the back of the store. There were four other workers on that shift.

In the bathroom, Nina said, “I have to poop. Is the door locked?”

“Oh.” I said, taken severely aback. I locked the door and tested it to be sure it was really locked.

“Come here,” she said as she pulled her dress up to pull her tights down. She sat on the toilet and sort of grimaced. I walked to her and kind of stood awkwardly.

“I think this seems fun,” Nina said, motioning for me to take my cock out.

She took me into her mouth and sucked hard and deep as I heard three distinct plops come from the toilet. At that point in my life, I have never been harder and felt more horny and weird. Her tongue felt good against my shaft and her smell filled the room.

In between long swallows, she pulled back and as she stroked my cock she said, “So hard… fuck, you are so hard.” And then, “I wish Ben could see this.”

I only lasted another 20 seconds before unloading a massive load of cum down her throat.

“OK, now leave. I have to wipe.” She commanded and I followed her order.

We didn’t speak for the rest of the shift but had the best sex later on. I filled up two condoms. What had happened at the bookstore seemed to have really gotten her going. The two things she said that made me blow were: “Put it in my shit hole.” Which I did (we didn’t do actual anal too much, this would have been the third time, I think.) and then, “Rub my poopy hole now.” Which I did as we fucked doggy.

“You like tasting that smelly hole?” is what she said as I tongued her asshole as she finished herself off with her fingers. Whenever she came, she was silent, almost eerily so.

We carried on like that for the rest of that summer, till everything went back to normal in that sleepy college town. We texted and hung out a bit, but now that I didn’t work at the bookstore, we didn’t have the same connection.

Things dwindled and I started dating a lovely girl named, Candace. There were no hard feelings and Nina and I never discussed that fact that we were no longer fuck buddies. And more.

Nina got pregnant that fall, with Ben’s child. I remember being jealous, then I remember being mad at myself for being jealous.

About a year later, after I had finished up my studies and moved away, I got a text one afternoon from Nina.

“I can’t believe we did all that…” the text read.

“All of what?” I replied.

“You know…. all of that….”

“How’s your son?” I asked.

“He’s fine. Looks like his dad so no worry on that one.”

I then asked her if she was ever going to be in the city I now lived, and if she would ever want to meet up.

“We had fun. I think of it often, but things are different now.”

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