slashfucker's Journal: The Last Straw.

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TRUE STORY

Hi, my name is confidential and I'm about to disclose to you a very discrete matter between my girlfriend and I, which I would readily like to share with you. But first, let me introduce to you my breath-taking girlfriend Kris. She's 19 y/o, tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed, a shiny smile of kindness. As to the physical aspects, she's very attractive, having lush tits, curved shaped-up luscious ample ass. As a daughter of a G.I. Lietenant-Colonel of Norwegian extraction, and a German nurse, she looks very "Nordic", very alike to a typical Scandinavian. She works at a well-known esteem restaurant in New York City and used to work at "7-Eleven" in Chevron gas station down in Pennsylvania. Well, for couple of years she's been having a bizarre habit/hobby, - farting on cream cakes... (beats me) It's amazing to see her taking off her pants, exposing her bare butt before me, then bending over, squating with it to the cake, and vigorously breaking winds all over it. It's so wierd! Once I decided to get down to it and asked her as to the meaning of this bizarre fetish, so she told me that it has turned her on since being a little girl. Beats me! She can hardly even explain it to herself! So one day while I was visiting her at the restaurant, she approached me, took a cake out of the fridge, got undressed and carried out her constant ritual. I got suddenly so turned on, that my prick thought of punching my stretched pants, so I took 'em off. Astonished and grateful, I stared at my lover performing the ceremony easily and slowly, thanking Jesus Lord for her beauty. She bent down to place her ass in front of the cake, while I'm standing in the corner watching her drawing near her slit and shithole to approximately 2-3 inches from the cake, waiting patiently for the digestion gases to accumulate, then be thrust out of her body to meet the beneign cake. She told me she'd had the beans, so she was equiped with a lot of farts just to be proud of. After she let out a silent one, felt only due to its odor, she broke winds loudly, about 5 or 6 in a row, every one of them sounded like a canon bombardment, or at least - a starting motorcycle. The last one lasted 7 whole seconds. I think she passed gas at 500 ml bulk sum total. Initially the smell was hot, strong and condensed as the molecules were too dense. After a while when it began to spread, it has become sharp, punctual and less offensive. After about 20 seconds it felt all over the room, surprisingly turning me on. She raised from the bending position, getting up on her feet. As for the cake- after a few minutes it was a total mess, looked full of fungi and all sorts of bacteria and sour, still carrying Kris' wonderful smell. Couple of minutes later a good looking young fella entered the restaurant and asked for a pie. Kris served him the foul smelling cake. He ate it unabruptly, unaware of the drama which had taken place just before. I was watching the scene while it was going on, I coundn't hold it in, and rushed to the staff's bathroom, bursting out laughing, lying on the floor twisting, until my belly was sore. 10 minutes later, after recovering from the wild laughter, I went out of the facility just to encounter the funny guy holding his stomach, with a tormented expression on his face, speeding all the way to get rid of the foul cake. I think he's just had at least 150 million germs...Bonappetite!

Ever since the beginning of my puberty I had a thing for farting. The superb vision for me is to watch Courtney Love and Geri Halliwell at a lounge with a birthday cake on the floor. Courtney and Geri hike down their pants, turn their bare butts at the cake from approximately 2 inches each one from different side, then simultaneously "beat the drum" on the cake, trying to blow the candles, as if attempting to compete each against the other when it comes to smell, rancidity, loudness and how long the fart lasts. And they release their intestinal methane gas until the room is increasingly rendered unbearable to stay in. Then they yank a slice of the cake and shove it down my throat full of their fart-aroma.

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Oh. My. Fucking. God.

After I read these messages I thought:
"This can't be just the work of one person."
"But how can there be two people with such a bizarre fetish?"

I KNOW about the furries, the stuffed animal fuckers, the shit eaters, the vores, the superhero swingers.

I know about all these fetishists who generate gigabytes of text and images on thousands of Yahoo Groups for every kind of fetish, no matter how obscure or bizarre, spending hours on IRC discussing the intimate details of sexual kicks that would make Kinsey drop his clipboard.

But has it come to this? Is there room in the morass of internet subcultures for cake farting?

There was only one way to find out. Muscle memory drove my fingers as I typed the URL which I had typed so many times before, but never for reasons so horrifying. The familiar logo beamed at me: blue, red, yellow, blue, green, red. It seemed to reassure that the Internet were as safe as a child's first toy; not the abandoned refrigerator full of AIDS infected syringes and rat poison that I know it to be.

It took me but a fraction of a second to type it, but I paused. I paused, and although I am not religious, I did something like praying, I hoped that the response would be "Your search...did not match any documents" - normally a disheartening response, but in this case it would validate my faith in all that is good in the world.

After a moment of hope, I pressed enter, and lost all faith.

Searched the web for cake farting. Results 1 - 10 of about 6,710. Search took 0.09 seconds.