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Rated: 18+ · Interactive · Erotica · #2260038
A few gassy guys torture people with their powerful farts. A revival of an old story.
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Chapter #2

Guy 3

    by: S3cr3t18 Author IconMail Icon
(Original chapter by The Boy Author Icon)

You are a fifteen year old boy. You try to live a normal life with your family, but your 40-year-old-father makes it hard, especially when you two are alone.

To make matters much worse, the girls in your family have decided to have a girls only vacation and left you alone at home with your 40-year-old-father. He is about 6' 3", handsome, rugged, and has an exceptionally-sculpted and well-defined musculature honed from years of enthusiastic physical training. He is arrogant, sadistic, pompous, and sexist, you have no idea why your mom is still married to him, but it could be because of his very well paying job.

Often for punishments he often teabags you, has you massage his back, or even force you to smell his firm, strong buttocks, while enjoys every minute, especially whenever he felt gassy, but you never quite knew why he had you do this. It's almost as though he takes pride in it. He loves to wear form-fitting pants and underwear to show off his butt, and after a long day he'll stuff his underwear in your face for "fun."
Sometimes, he invites his large and masculine friends over and they all torture you with their farts. Other times, he'll see you alone, take the slightest thing as an insult, and punish you by sitting in your lap and "letting it rip".
Despite this, it is very rare of him to show off his butt itself in front of you, because he always wanted to make sure the image of his ass would always be fresh, this way it would always be a surprise, and by his sense "a privilege". And no matter what, you could never do anything to stop him. Your father is so much bigger, stronger, and smarter than you, it's practically impossible. He has a lot in store for you this week.
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You watch your mother and two younger sisters drive away from the window as you wish more than anything that you were there with them. You were dreading this weekend with your dad and his sadistic smelly schemes. What was it with him and making you suffer? He never lost a chance to have you smelling his gas, although this would usually happen at least three times a week. You knew it would only get worse with your mother gone. Just as you turned around the all familiar smell hit you. It smelled of week-old sweat, and the odor of a silent fart. You slowly turn around and are terrified when you see your father standing right behind you, looking down at you, wearing no shirt and white briefs. Beyond his big, hairy pecs is his face, smiling down at you in a friendly manner, which you didn't trust at all.

"SO you ready for a fun packed weekend boy?!" Your father says as he performed a short pec dance.
"I've been waiting for this day, boy, I haven't showered in a while just for it?" your father then lifts his arm, smelling his armpit "Man, the smell of a real man after work!"

"Come on dad can we just hang out this weekend? Please! I don't wanna spend the next week smelling like your farts!" you say.

"Well this is going to be interesting isn't it?" said your father quite menacingly.

The next thing you know, your father pushes you to the floor into the corner between your bed and the wall, and pats his big, firm butt, which he positions in front of your faces, making you stare into your foul fate.
"Don't worry, hohohohoho" he reassures you while chuckling evilly, "Its nothing special, Daddy's just gonna give you a little morning gas".
"Dad no! Please!" you beg, struggling to escape his clutches, before he suddenly places his manly rump right on your face.
All you can do is mutter and grunt as the stink tortures you. You manly father wiggles his ass on your face before you both hear his stomach rumble, and you both know what that means.
He rips an enormous fart right into your face.
"Ermgh," you suffer underneath his rank butt.
"You like that smell?" He asks you jokingly as he wiggles his butt all over your face forcing you to have to breathe in his nasty gas. After all of his fart has soaked into your poor nose, he gets off of you and you gasp for the clean oxygen, which still has some of your father's fart remnants lingering.
"Why do you always have to do that to me?!" you scream, "What did I do?"
Your father places a foot on you in a triumphant pose as you cough and cry from the stink and the embarrassment.
"Get used to it, boy, because now that those weak, crybaby females are gone, I've got a lot in store for you, your nose, your mouth, and every inch of skin on you pathetic body!" your father states as he laughs triumphantly while still stepping on you.
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