Winds of Revenge
by Bryanll

It was a simple plan but one that progressed to unimaginable events. How could watching a simple high school football game turn into something so insane,
and a week later, into something so life-changing?

I was a freshman in high school. No, I wasn’t in the popular group. We were the poor of the poor and I was thin, not athletic, and my brown hair tussled
too much out of control. I wasn’t yet shaving, didn’t know sports, generally clueless to the world, and currently had a zit on my right cheek.

But, the annual game against cross-town rival East Side Preparatory High School, or ESP, was one my cousins said I couldn’t miss. We had a decent team
for a change and I needed to be there.

Yeah, like--- rah, rah. I could care less. But, I didn’t have anything else to do so I went with them. I was surprised how exciting the game was in person.

My cousins saw some girls they knew and one of them was known for her blow jobs so they wanted more of her talents, some of which held rumors of blowing
Mr. Pedo---or, Mr. Peterson, her algebra teacher. We agreed I would meet my cousins at the car after the game.

At halftime, the cheerleaders from ESP came to our side for what was called a good-will or good-sportsmanship cheer. They were outfitted with USC-like
gear, all in white, not as many pleats in their skirts, white sweaters with ESPHS on the chest, and white panties--- yes, panties. Not spankies. Panties.
The school district had rules but ESPHS cheerleaders had skirts that were too short to flaunt that they wore panties while every other school’s cheerleaders
wore spankies

They all had shiny and perfect hair, and their choreography was tight and in sync and more sexually suggestive than permitted by the district. They acted
arrogant and most of them wore too much makeup and most of them sneered at us. They were haughty brats! To give you an idea, here is their last cheer on
our side:

“I got spirit, I got sass,
You got nothin’ so
KISS …………………. MY ……………… ASS!!!

When they said “Kiss”, three of them on the left turned around, flipped their short skirts over their backs, stuck their butts out and showed “KISS” printed
on their panties. When they yelled “MY”, three next to them turned around and did the same thing and their panties all said “MY”. You know the next three
… they all did it and had “ASS” on their panties while the last three turned and showed “!’ which sorta made me laugh because those three exclamation points
looked liked ass cracks over butt holes.

It was shocking to see 12 teenage girls all bending over and mooning us with their panties reading, “KISS KISS KISS MY MY MY ASS ASS ASS !!!”

I thought it was rude but we got the last laugh because, against all odds, our team beat ESPHS!

That made the rich kids and their parents all mad and crazy. They yelled obscenities at the officials and squealed their tires pulling away and one even
busted out a window of an older, faded car. It wasn’t my cousin’s.

Speaking of cars, my cousin’s wasn’t there when I went to look for it. A different car was parked there. I couldn’t see my cousin’s car anywhere down that
dark street or on the goal post streets. The only other street was the one way across the other side that went between the high school and the football
field, but I couldn’t see through the metal bleachers. I walked across the football field being as careful as I could to not be noticed by angry parents.
I didn’t look like I fit in with rich people and I didn’t want any problems.

I got close enough to the bleachers to see the street but my cousin’s car wasn’t there. I ambled toward the set of older wooden bleachers a long way to
my left. I couldn’t see through those so I crept up to the corner of the tall structure and leaned in close to it and slowly moved my face forward to peek
at the street.

My eyes never made it that far.

Less than 20 feet away stood some of those rude cheerleaders, standing in a semi-circle. I ducked back feeling terror shake my body. But … why? Come on
Bryan! They’re high school girls! Be a man.

My nerves disagreed.

My brain scanned the image it had just ducked away from. They were standing under a field lamp that cast an amber hue over them. Half of them were smoking.
Half were standing with their hands on their hips with one leg straight and the other in that bent-knee-with-outward-toes configuration---you know--- like
teenage girls get when they’re mad or jealous.

I know the honey-haired one in the middle had seen me. Our eyes had locked for a millionth of a second before I ducked back. But nothing had happened in
the few seconds that followed and I was going to get the hell out of there.

YESSSS---okay! I’m afraid of high school girls. But, you don’t know. You just don’t know! That’s why I’m writing this.

Suddenly, she appeared, that honey-haired girl---with “Olivia” embroidered on her sweater. Electricity blasted my nervous system.

She could have been pretty if her face wasn’t so fierce and covered with make-up. She was about 5’3”. I’m over six-foot. She scared the hell out of me.
She still does.

“You’re one of them!” she hissed. “You’re … You’re one of them!”

My head shook violently. “No. No! I’m not!”

But then, the other six had joined her and my heart was beating six times faster than it should. All of them accused me of being “one of them”---a West-Sider.

I knew cheerleaders were athletic but I never knew one could grab my shirt so fast! Olivia’s left hand had seized the top of my shirt and her seething
face was close enough that I could smell nicotine.

Her voice changed from a low scream to a bothersome growl. “You … You … You fucking retard. You and you’re fucking school. Who the hell do you think you
are beating us? This would have been five fucking years in a row and you come in and fuck it all up!”

The other girls pressed closer, perhaps emboldened by her lead or by my trembling.

“And now … NOW, you come over to our side to gloat? To rub it in our faces?” She tightened her grip on my shirt even more. “Maybe we should rub something
in your face!” she snorted.

“No ...” I pleaded. “No … I was ...” I almost couldn’t speak. “ ... looking for my cousin’s car.”

“On our side? You fucking liar! It’s our street. Your kind don’t belong on it and they all know it.” She studied my face. Hers became tighter. “You came
here to gloat. AD-fucking-MIT IT!” she demanded.

I stuttered and shook my head but the others were beginning to echo her assertions and moving closer. What did they want with me? Would they summons their
boyfriends to beat me up? Hell, those cheerleaders could beat me up.

“I’m sick of this shit,” she proclaimed. “You fuckers did this last Spring in track.” She yanked my shirt even harder and my nose was near hers. “SICK
OF IT! You can’t come to this side of town and beat us. Fucking shit faces!” She relaxed---slightly.

Then, her head turned briefly to the others “Know what I think?” she asked. “This time we follow through.”

“Yessss!” echoed the others.

“Finally do what we’ve said we would do if it happened again. Well, it fucking happened again and this time, we’re going to do something about it! Give
him what he deserves! Make an example of him for what they ALL fucking deserve!” Her eyes focused on mine more intently. “Looks like this just isn’t your
lucky day, now is it?”

She jumped at me and both of her arms clutched my right elbow. “C’mon girls! Get him!” They pounced. All six of them, plus Olivia. Some secured my other
elbow while others twisted my wrists until they hurt. Two began pushing my body and they were moving me under the bleachers. It wasn’t walled out of sight
from passersby, but they didn’t seem to care.

There was enough street light to see that the wood was old and supports stemmed in complex angles all the way to the top. The ground was dry and solid
dirt.

I struggled but not really because I thought it would only make them more angry. I only struggled enough so that later, I would be able to say, “Well,
I tried.”

“You girls know exactly what this is about.” She laughed, then yelled, “Get him down!”

Their attack was instant. I was no match for seven high school girls. Hell, I wasn’t a match for a 5’3” honey-haired 15 year old.

They clutched me and pushed me and before I could rally any kind of counter, I was sitting on the ground. One cheerleader pounced on my shins and locked
my legs to the hard dirt. Two others began bulldozing into my chest as if to push my upper body down flat.

Olivia was behind me and her fingers twisted into my leafy hair and yanked the resolve out of me and I fell back to the ground. A slim brunette with “Carmen”
as her moniker instantly pounced on my stomach, facing my face and giving me a direct and closeup view of her teenage girlhood encased in fine cotton.
My cousins would have KILLED to be in my place, but trust me, you don’t ever want to look between a high school girl’s legs when you’re on your back and
five other teenage girls are sitting on you and getting ready to do who-knew-what.

There were girls sitting on my legs, stomach, arms… all over. No body in their right mind would have traded places with me.

Olivia was standing. She moved toward me and placed her feet on either side of my head, straddling my upturned face. And that's another thing that is over-glamorized.
Having a 15 year old girl straddle your face and you're looking straight up her skirt ... and I know how you romanticize seeing her panties. But it's not
like that when you have a cheerleader and you know her legs are strong and you see those powerful thighs and standing above you makes her look like a giantess.
That, my friend, will scare the sperm right out of your nads. I just hope –- I just hope!--- for your sake that you never have to see that!

She looked down on me, literally I suppose, with a menacing smirk. Then, she suddenly dropped down directly on my chest. She moved back until she was sitting
on my neck! It hurt! Was she going to kill me? I could scarcely breathe. The back of her cheerleader skirt was partially resting on my chin. I thought
I was going to die and I wondered how they would write my epitaph and if they would say that I choked on a cheerleader’s ass.

“Now … THIS is what you deserve you fucking West-sider!”

And with that, she rose and suddenly dropped hard, right on my face. Right on my face! Her butt---right in my face! It was humiliating! My head hurt. Her
aim had been perfect. How do I know? Well, because my nose was wedged right up the very center of her “ass pocket”.

The other girls laughed. I was crazed. It was … unthinkable! My face---the horror of horrors---My face was in a 15 year old girl’s butt. She wiggled and
laughed. She ground her warm, plush, high school butt right in my face!

“Take that, you ‘tard! Your face is SOOOO going to stink! You like that, butt-face?!?” she taunted. “It’s what you fucking deserve! It’s where you belong,
you and your whole fucking asswipe school!”

I heard the voice of a girl standing near my head and I recognized it as the strawberry blond whose sweater had the name “Jana”. She was memorable because
she had a pretty face that was contradicted by very hard eyes. When Olivia raised to give me air, I saw Jana standing and looking down and smoking the
last of a cigarette.

Olivia finally rose. My face felt hot from being melded to her ass. Before I could get my senses, Carmen, the very pretty and innocent-appearing brunette,
had slowly slid forward to sit on my chest while someone else took her place on my stomach. Carmen was so pretty with naturally tanned skin, slender body,
shiny black hair, little make-up, and a beautiful and friendly smile. She just didn’t look like she belonged with the others. She seemed like Miss Wholesome
USA.

She was looking down at me with her sweet face and smile. She slid a little more forward and her eyes began to take on a rascal-like glint. She moved so
smoothly as she lifted and turned around and then sat on my chest again, this time facing my feet. Her movements were suave and self-assured and gracious
and I was sure she was not the kind of girl who would ever stick her butt in someone’s face. No way.

She fluffed the back of her skirt and I noticed her panties were like Olivia’s. I wondered if they were all alike and had somehow talked the school district
into buying them. She looked back at me and again and I was dumbfounded. I knew from her expression that she was going to do it.

But now, it seemed so different. She was so different. I no longer wanted to struggle. I wanted it---with her, not the nasty others. I pointed my face
straight up. I wanted her to know that I wanted her to do it. She lifted and arranged herself over me and then she lowered and my nose went right up where
it felt like it belonged. She nestled down and slowly wiggled as if to form a tight, buttface union.

Although she was lighter than Olivia, when a girl gets your nose in the pocket of her rear-end, you’re stuck. There was a nice distraction with Carmen.
With her smaller ass and with her sometimes lifting and adjusting her position, I could see enough of her panties to know that she was one who had the
word “KISS” on hers. I know this sounds weird, but I liked her so much that, yes, I would have kissed her ass if she had told me to.

After a while, she got off and Jana instantly plopped her thick butt down. She ground it down hard and looked over her shoulder and said, “This is what
all of you West-Siders get … my BUTT right in your FACE!” She rolled her ass on my nose and pushed down harder and sneered at me and she relished every
second.

Olivia dug the wallet out of my pocket. “Bryan, ‘eh?” she said. “Yeah, Bryan Buttface!” she laughed. She read all of my information aloud and said I wouldn’t
be getting back my student I.D. card right away.

The other girls all took turns. One after another, seven high school cheerleaders in skirts and thin panties took turns sitting on my face and triumphing
that they were rich girls smothering a West-Sider with their asses and proving their preeminence.

And each time they exalted themselves, they danced and clapped and cheered and jeered. I swear, adults were still passing by and saw it all but did nothing
to stop it or voice any kind of disapproval.

The seventh girl looked a bit like a misguided emo girl … a rich girl trying to look emo but not really getting it. Her name was Ellie and she had short
dark hair with rainbow streaks, a lip ring and a nose stud. She was actually a good facesitter though, I must say. She didn’t do it hard but more like
a sensual rolling of her hips. I believed she had probably done quite a bit of facesitting.

I would say each girl did it for 4-5 minutes before they started all over from the beginning. Fourteen times---high school girls grinding their asses on
my nose.

When all seven of them had sat twice, Olivia was back for her third. She first sat on my chest and was whispering to the other girls who all giggled. Then,
she looked back at me.

“I’ve been waiting for this!” she scowled. “You’re really going to get it. Right in your fucking face!”

She backed up and lowered down and I breathed at the wrong time and wound up inhaling a big dose of Olivia-ass which practically made me pass out. I felt
the plop and my face was instantly buried deep in the crack of her teenage tush.

The other girls became almost quiet. They were leaning closer. What the hell was happening?

“Ready?” Olivia asked the others. They clapped and Carmen asked, “Are you really ...”

“Shut up!” Olivia demanded. “Of course I am!”

Stillness prevailed and then her back arched which spread her butt cheeks a little and she pressed her soft cheeks hard to my face and then …

brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-fffffffffffffffffffft (sorry, farts are hard to replicate in written form)

She … She farted!! Right in my face!

My entire body quaked. Her gas spread through her panties like a warm musk and warmed all of my skin and I knew that just that one gaseous eruption would
stink my my face up for a long time after.

My body twisted and I felt ill. The other girls put more weight on my body to keep me down and Olivia’s ass pushed back solidly against my cheeks and when
everyone was quiet, she let another fart---a big, long, nasty, noisy fart! The girls laughed. I heard laughter from two very young voices that seemed to
be further away, perhaps on the street.

Olivia leaned forward and again pushed her butt back to make solid contact and then she farted and she farted and she farted and she just kept letting
them rip all over my face while I became dizzy and nearly passed out. Every one of those high school girls laughed and clapped.

It was humiliating! A 15 year old girl was farting in my face while other high school girls were laughing! At me! They called me “fartface” and “buttface”
and other names and they kept encouraging Olivia to keep doing it.

Her panties were pressed to my nostrils and they trapped the smell and each time she passed gas, it spread with warmth and if I wanted to breathe air,
I had to breathe her farts through her panties whenever she lifted enough to free my nose.

“Give me one of those!” Jana demanded and I wandered what she meant. When Olivia lifted to reach toward Jana, I saw her give a package of Ricola cough
drops and the strawberry blond popped three into her mouth.

A couple of minutes later, Olivia got up and Jana plopped her full rear-end down on me.

“I’m so fucking going to waste your face!” she hissed as she looked at me over her shoulder. She squirmed for a few seconds then screamed for the others
to shut up, then said, “I’m ready! Ready!!”

What emerged was the longest, full fart imaginable. It was air, stinky air, and a lot of it and it just kept putrefying my senses. To think that any high
school girl could emit a ten-second-long fart was astounding. It literally stifled my entire existence --- not so much the smell because that was somewhat
cut off by her weight on my nose --- but just having that much gas permeate me for so long of a time was horrendous. My body tried again to struggle and
my head to twist to the side, but I couldn’t get away and I spent the next ten minutes with a 16 year old cheerleader fluttering my face with long and
nasty farts. One was so full of gusto and volume that it cut off the sound of the other girls laughing.

Olivia dropped to her knees by my head and when Jana lifted to give me air, Olivia growled, “Tell your fucking people what we did, right in your face!
Tell them that’s what we’re going to do to ALL of them if we catch on the rich side! Understand!”

Before I could respond, Jana’s bouncing butt jammed down and instantly began a long, streaming, full, bassy, eruption that went through her panties and
all of the way to my ears! I had no idea high school girls could fart for 20 minutes almost non-stop, but that’s what Jana did. For 20 minutes, she farted
and farted and farted right in my face! Was Ricola really that potent?

The other girls seemed fascinated by what Olivia and Jana were doing especially that it showed very clearly that East Side girls ruled. They were fascinated
with how disgusting yet satisfying it was to show their superiority by farting all over the face of an inferior West Side high school boy.

Finally, Jana looked at me. “I’m done.”

She stood. She spread her hands over her skirt to make sure it was in order. In any other situation, I would have laughed with the irony that she wanted
to appear all prim and proper after she had just spent a half-hour farting in a younger boy’s face.

When no one moved for several seconds, I felt relief that it was finally over. Four girls were still sitting on my body but they were starting to lift
off of me.

Olivia said, “Well, I guess we’re done here. We’ve done our nasty business. I feel a fucking lot better now that we got even with them.”

While the other girls were nearly off of me, Carmen didn’t get up. She was sitting on my stomach. She raised her hand toward Olivia with her index finger
pointing upward as if to say “Wait”.

“Carmen … what?” Olivia asked.

The dark-haired beauty had a pleasant and pretty smile. Her index finger began to turn until it was pointing at her mouth. She opened her mouth.

Ricola!

Fuck! She was sucking on a Ricola?

No! It couldn’t be! She was such a normal girl. The all-American sweetheart kind. The pretty smile and the fresh face. The kind who was probably still
a virgin. A nice girl. A popular sophomore. No way! It couldn’t be!

Olivia leaped with joy and the other girls clapped and also expressed surprise that a girl like Carmen actually wanted to fart in someone’s face.

While the others returned to sit on my body, Carmen moved to my chest and turned her back to me. Two pleats on the back of her skirt were near my chin.
She looked at me. Her smile was that of a homecoming queen---kind and soft, but with that rascal glint beginning to show.

She moved back another inch or so and I felt her tailbone against my chin. She was slender but it was then that I realized more than ever that even a slender
high school girl has a butt bigger than my face and it possesses powers that should be feared.

She lifted again and hovered over my head. She looked me right in the eyes with an expression that was warm, as if I had just given her flowers. With that
perfect smile and uncommon grace, she raised her hand and twiddled her fingers at me as if to say “good-bye” and too bad for me.

Then, she moved back and lowered down and she sat right on my nose and settled in. I felt her body grip and then relax and then … She actually did it!
That sweet, innocent looking girl actually farted in my face! I just … could not … believe it! And, she just kept doing it, over and over and over and
over for a full half hour. She spread her gas in smoldering swells that spread all across my nose and saturated my cheeks and tickled my chin and forehead.
Her skirt was over me so my entire world was her ass and the unending continuum of her farting and farting and farting.

A nice girl! A sweet girl! No one would imagine!

“One last big one!” she announced. The last one was hot and growling so much that her butt cheeks jiggled. It lasted a long time and when she was finally
done, she exhaled, “AHHHhhhhhhh!”

I was literally light-headed. They all got off of me. I struggled to get up.

“Our neighbor girl farts all the time,” Ellie said. “I should have her and her classmates fart in his face.”

“The more the merrier,” Jana said. “I mean, if she goes to our high school.”

Ellie answered, “No. She goes to East Side Elementary.”

Olivia came close, within inches. She breathed in. “Ohhhhhh shit! You smell like a sewer! Get the fuck out of here!” She put her finger in front of my
nose and told me to not wash my face until tomorrow and she would know and if I disobeyed and they would do it again, only worse.

I asked about my I.D. She said she would have someone give it to me next Friday at the Shake Shack which was on the neutral street that separated the East
Side from the West Side.

I stumbled home. I didn’t dare wash my face. I was worried about what it would take to get my I.D. back. I fell asleep smelling the farts of teenage girls.

Part 2

They still had my school ID card. Those East Side Prep high school girls had taken it a week before after abusing my face for well over an hour under the
bleachers after our Westside High football team had ruined ESP’s perfect season.

Olivia had said I would get my card the following Friday, which was today, but as I neared the Shake Shack, I didn’t see any high school girls. Stupid
me! Duped again. Not only an awkward and skinny 14 year old, but someone who trusted a snobby rich girl who had subjected me to ass-nasties.

I checked inside.

“You lookin’ for something?” asked a voice from behind.

She was about five feet tall with a puppet-like face, unflinching emerald eyes, and hair that was sand-colored, hay-thick, and cut to the line of her jaw.

“Uh...I was suppose to meet---”

She wiggled her finger and turned to walk away. Like some witless cyborg, I followed her to a covered area around back.

She wore a backpack that read “ESMS-7” with “Shani” monogramed beneath.

Wait.

Wait!

“ESMS-7”? Middle School? She was a junior high school girl? A seventh grader? What business did she have bossing me around?! I stopped. She scowled.

My chin dropped. I followed...

...because, last time (part one), I admitted it---I’m afraid of high school girls and now, after Shani’s scowl, I realized I..I’m...afraid...of...afraid
of middle school girls, too. There. I said it.

I wouldn’t want you to think that I liked what those cheerleaders did to me a week ago. No way. I had succumbed to fear. Just like I wouldn’t want you
to think that looking at Shani’s ass was because of how it jiggled and twitched. No! Okay, so her designer denim shorts fit perfectly but I only followed
her because I was afraid.

But why? She was only five-feet tall; I was over six. She was a girl; I was a guy; She was 11; I was 14. Why would I kowtow to her? It was one thing to
surrender to seven high school girls who had attacked me but this was just ONE middle school girl who had only talked.

If one citadel remained to host my damaged dignity it was the gratitude I felt from knowing that at least Shani wasn’t a grade school girl. Ellie had threatened
that. Can you imagine how awful that would be---having little grade school girls sitting on your face?

Shani reached an isolated place at the back of the building and turned to me.

“Shani … listen---” I said.

“What?!?” she screeched. “How do you know my name?”

Damn, that backfired. Now she thought I was a pervert and a stalker!

“No. No. It’s...It’s on your...backpack.”

“Creep!” She flipped me the bird, right between my eyes. “So, you want it back...your card?”

“Y...Yes. Wh...Where is Olivia?”

“Playoff game. Out of town. Listen and listen carefully, buttface!”

Buttface? Dammit. Olivia must have told her. My face flushed.

Her face transformed into a menacing smile. “I don’t have your card.”

Agitation seized me.

“Wh---”

Her devilish smile widened. “And, neither does Olivia.”

“But---”

“Shut up!” Shani scoffed. “Olivia changed her mind. Lowbrenner has it.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Lowbrenner. Principal.”

Olivia had turned me in? I was in trouble? Why? I hadn’t done anything. They had attacked me. Seven high school girls! They sat all over my face! You didn’t
see me pressing charges, did you?

“Four blocks. That way. East Side Prep office. Main entrance. Be there by 4:30.”

I turned to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To...To...Mr. Low---”

“Uh-uh!” the girl shook “no”. “Isn’t there’s something you should do?

“Uhhhh...”

“To thank me. Olivia told you.”

“N...No.” She hadn’t told me. Or maybe I had not listened. Or maybe Shani was just making things up. But really, did any of that matter?

She yanked on my collar. “Then, I’ll tell you!”

Her eyes studied mine and she slowly drawled three words:

“Kiss…...my…..ass!”

She couldn’t be serious. Kiss...kiss her ass? Here? Now? Besides, how dare she talk to a high school boy that way!

“NOW!” she demanded and my legs buckled and for whatever reasons, I pushed my face into the very seat of her shorts and I kissed while she pressed her
palms to the brick wall of the Shake Shack for support. I couldn't believe it. I hated it! Kissing a girl's ass---in public.

She eventually pushed my head away and laughed. “Most would have started with my butt cheeks, perv-boy.”

Most? How many times had she done this or was it routine for rich girls to get poor westsider boys to kiss their asses?

She pointed to her left hip pocket and said, “Start here.”

I kissed several times on her left, then her right butt check. She bent over significantly and pointed to that...deep place...the...the center and she
demanded that I return my face to that very place but when I was beginning to kiss, she nearly shouted, “Not kissing! Smell it! Smell my ass! Do it now!”

It was humbling. I was on my knees at a fast food place and I had my nose in a middle school girl's ass and I was...sniffing...sniffing her butt---for
no other reason than she had commanded it.

After last week, I’d had it up to here (nose) with butt smells. But, she was in control so I...I...smelled her ass. She demanded more. I felt light-headed.

She looked down at me. “You haven’t really kissed my ass, have you?”

I was confused. I said I had. She said, “No way!”. She unfastened her shorts and with one motion, pulled them down along with her panties and stuck her
bare, spread ass out.

“THIS is kissing my ass!” She pointed to her anus. “Kiss buttface!”

K...Kiss her. There? On her...bare...bare asshole? But, like everything before, arguing was pointless. Maybe she was only a seventh grader, but she held
all of the power. I pushed my face into her cute---I mean very frightening---ass and I placed my lips directly on her sphincter and I held her slender
hips and I kissed her ass hole. The only reason I can write about that now is because it wasn’t my idea. She forced me.

After nearly a minute, she laughed and pushed my head back and yanked her panties and shorts up and told me to walk my stinking face away from her.

- - - - - -

I was afraid passing through the ESP campus. Poor westsiders were not suppose to even be on that street. I supposed I made it safely because school had
let out more than an hour before and not many people were around.

I entered the mammoth main entrance and found the principal’s office and was then led by a 50-something lady with glasses to a door marked “Adolf Lowbrenner
– Principal”. She knocked. He called out. We entered. He had me sit across from his cherrywood desk while the woman left. My knees were vibrating.

He was a mousy man, short, with dark and balding hair, wire-rim glasses over beady eyes, and an occasional twitch at the corner of his mouth. He seemed
perpetually nervous or perhaps insecure.

“Bryan, we have an issue here,” he began.

He was going to blame me for what happened last Friday?

He held up my school I.D. card. “You lost this last week. I’m sure you want it back.”

I felt my face brighten.

He swiveled his chair a bit and I watched with horror while he pushed my card into a shredder and I heard it slice my hopes into braids of despair.

“Now Bryan...about your indiscretions. Last week...you know what I’m talking about.”

“I...I...didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m afraid others think you did.”

“No. No! They attacked me. They sat on my face. They even farted on my---”

Lowbrenner burst into laughter. “Ah heh-heh, well pity you, I guess. But that’s your concern, not mine. That’s not what I'm talking about.”

If I could have become a fart myself and dissipated into the air, I would have.

“What I was referring to was you trespassing where poor boys like you don’t belong.”

There was silence. He squirmed.

“I have a situation here.” He tapped a pencil on his desk. “I...I don’t agree with any of this, but I have to do what I have to do, if I know what’s good
for me.” He leaned forward. “Bryan, the reason I destroyed your I.D. card is because...” He fidgeted. “...is because...you are going to go to school here
at East Side Prep.”

I was shocked.

“That’s...impossible! We’re poor. We can’t pay for no private school. Besides, I don’t fit here.”

“Doesn’t matter, Bryan. It’s already been arranged. Except, we need a parent’s signature which I am sure you will get.”

“No!” I protested. “You can’t make me do this!”

“Bryan!” he scowled. “This is about doing what the powers above me want. Let me say it to you this way: Rich families are very influential and those parents
get what they want, one way or another. Your family won’t like some of their ways.”

“Parents? They don’t even know me,” I protested.

“Don’t have to. Their daughters do. Look, the rich parents rule this valley. Problem is, some of their daughters control them. So you see, it’s the girls
who run this valley. So, if I don’t get this done, them I’m the one they’re coming after.”

He stood and walked to a window and rocked on his heels.

“So you see Bryan, as far as those girls go, it’s either you or me. And I can tell you that it absolutely, sure as hell, ain't going to be me!”

It was inevitable. I knew it. I was born in the valley and knew it’s ways. The rich ruled and the poor stayed out of their way. My head shook slowly side-to-side
and my chest sighed in defeat. Those damn rich girls got what they wanted even if they had to inflict hardship on poor families.

He said admission and scholarship papers would be sent over immediately and he expected me to get my parents to sign the forms. None of my family is very
bright, except me of course, so I didn’t see a problem in getting the papers signed.

When the box from ESPHS arrived, it had the forms as promised and also clothing so I wouldn’t look so out of place, three class books, vouchers for lunches,
and other items.

My parents were elated and signed right away. They were thrilled that, at long last, someone from our family might someday actually get to college! My
cousins considered me a traitor. If only they knew the horrible sacrifice I was enduring for them.

- - - - -

My first day at ESP began with a summons to one of the counselors offices. Miss Marcoux looked to be in her early 20’s although I believed she was close
to 30. She wore a very tight and short tan-and-white plaid skirt that became even shorter when she sat on her desk with her knees pointed at me. Overall,
she had a French-like appearance with petite bones, a pretty face, little makeup, and black hair that was thick and didn’t reach her shoulders.

What kind of school was this? Who let this youngish bombshell wear a short, tight skirt and sit in front of a 14 year old boy---to counsel?

She explained that since the ESP curriculum was far ahead of Westside High School, I would take only half as many classes as others and only in the mornings.
In the afternoons, I would be under Olivia’s direction.

Olivia? What? My body shivered.

“You may never catch up so you it may take you eight years to graduate.”

Eight years? I would die if I had to live under Olivia’s direction that long!

But wait! Maybe it might take me eight years, but Olivia and most of her cohorts were sophomores and they would be gone in three! So maybe these arrogant
East Siders weren’t all as smart as they thought they were. I felt smug. In three years, I wouldn’t.

She stood and turned to her desk. I couldn’t help but notice her skirt...I mean...because it was stylish and all that. She handed me an excuse for missing
first period classes and I made my way to second period. No one payed much attention to me, something I would experience through much of my time at ESP.

The two classes I attended that morning were far above anything we had studied at Westside High. At midday, I made my way to the lunchroom and used a voucher
for food that was better than any food we ate at home. It didn’t bother me to sit alone. After all, I was the new kid. A couple of the low-enders spoke
to me but they didn’t linger.

With the lunch hour 20 minutes from ending, my knees began shaking. I was to report to Olivia in a study room and I dreaded seeing her again. I walked
slowly, praying for a national disaster to interrupt my fate.

When I got to the room, she was there with the other six girls who had attacked me that fateful Friday night. I had to admit that underneath too much makeup,
Olivia had a pretty face. Jana wore little makeup but her cute face was betrayed by cold-steel eyes. Emo-like Ellie had changed to gold streaked hair and
wore a denim skirt and she seemed as mentally-oblivious as before. Then, there was Carmen, the lean, olive-skinned freshman who was fresh and cute and
didn’t fit among the nasty others.

Although ESP had a dress code, these were the rich girls; the ones who controlled the parents who controlled the valley. They wore whatever they damned
pleased and, on this day, they wore non-uniform skirts that were shorter than permitted.

“Well, Mr. Buttface showed up after all!” Olivia snarled. With her friends gathered near, she reminded me that I was required to do whatever they said
or, “There will be hell for you and people you like!”

She laughed and stuck her middle finger under my chin and demanded my agreement. I nodded. She added, “This is going to be the most-fun school year ever!”

The bell rang to announce the beginning of afternoon classes and Olivia told me to follow her and her troupe. My eyes argued with my libido about the merits,
if any, of their round rear-ends.

We reached a classroom doorway. An older, male teacher was sitting at his desk. His head lifted as if to say something about the girls being late but his
face frowned and held his words. The students were all girls. I would learn that all of my afternoon classes were with all girls.

Olivia led me to the far left side of the room and to an odd-looking desk. It looked like a carpenter had recently built a long, cushioned shelf under
the desktop, only a few inches above the floor. It stretched from the back of the desk to the front and extended a few feet beyond. Altogether it was...how
coincidental...it was...well...about...six feet in length.

Olivia elbowed me and pointed. She had to be kidding. She was...they were...sit on my face? In class? In front of a teacher? In front of other high school
girls?

When she elbowed me harder, I contorted myself to fit and to lay face-up. Olivia looked with nodding triumph as her troupe of girls sat in other seats
in the same row.

She lifted one leg over the chair. My demise was imminent. She stood straddling my head while Jana encouraged her. And like a week before, I was again
looking up Olivia’s short skirt and just as I said before, that is not something you ever want to do...look up a high school girl’s skirt while she is
straddling your face---not when you know she is going to just sit right down on it!

And, that’s what she did. She began to lower. I heard girlish laughter and squeals. It was like a slow-motion nightmare. Her butt got bigger and bigger
as it descended and my world view diminished as her skirt blocked all outward vision. And then...I felt it! Her cushy rear-end nestled down onto my face
and my nose went...well, you know where it went. And, she sat down just like she would have had she been at a normal desk.

If you’ve ever had a girl sit on your nose, then you know that you can’t breathe until she lets you. It is horrible and scary. That’s why I continue to
warn readers that you really need to think twice before ever letting a high school girl sit on your face.

Her panties were soft yellow and thin. They felt good but knowing where my nose was didn’t. I knew it would smell like ass after she got off of me and
how utterly humiliated I would feel.

The teacher asked the girls if he could finally get on to the day’s lesson. They laughed. He spent the remainder of the class mumbling into his lesson
plan, perhaps to distract himself from what was going on. I wouldn’t have heard him anyway since I was even more distracted by a 15 year old girl rolling
her ass on my nose.

She adjusted her position a few times before settling down and making firm contact with me and---

brrrrffffffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrrttttttt

Olivia blew a longlasting and bassy fart right in my face! I thought it would never stop! I could feel the air and her body heat which swelled through
her panties and spread all over my nose and cheeks. I heard loud, girlish laughter and a groan from the teacher.

The room went silent all at once and...she grunted while her sphincter produced a rumbling low sound while also a high-pitch; almost like it was playing
a duet with itself which brought twice the laughter as before. Fifteen year old Olivia was farting right in my face, right in class, in a room filled with
teenaged girls!

And just when I thought my sense of humiliation had peaked, she raised her right buttock and ripped another fart that was aimed at the other girls but
filled my face. Since I was gasping for air and my nostrils were no longer closed from the weight of her body, my head filled with her foul smell and I
felt ill.

I don’t know how much longer Olivia farted on me. I remember the rush of cool air as her ass separated from my stinking face and she stood. Unfortunately,
Jana was quick to replace her and with a Ricola cough drop in her mouth and after her white panties nestled her cheeks down onto mine, she ripped a rasping
fart right on my nose and I heard more laughter.

“Girls!” the teacher cried. “You need to settle down now!”

Jana jumped from my face and, since I was on the far-left row and the teacher’s desk was front and center, I could see her and Olivia charge to the teacher.

“Shut up! Just...shut up!” Olivia demanded, her face inches from his. “That is...” she paused. “...unless you want some of this!” She turned around and
flipped up her skirt as she stuck her ass right up to him.

“No! No!” he pleaded as he backed his chair away. Then, in resignation, he added, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” and went back to blabbering to himself.

Jana returned and sat on me and within seconds, she ripped a hushing gasser...like air from a punctured tire. She flattened her sitting position and passed
gas flush into my face. It was mostly less-audible poots and hisses which brought snickers but, thankfully, less laughter.

She stood and vanished from view only to be replaced by a thin, short, and sassy blond who I recognized from that fartful Friday night and now knew was
named Caprice. She leaned down and said “Hi fartface!”, loud enough for even the teacher to hear. She flipped me double birds, showed a Ricola in her mouth,
hoisted her snug miniskirt above her waist, and nestled her little butt down onto my nose. Her soft butt cheeks melded to my face cheeks, separated only
by thin, rose-colored panties.

Less than 10 seconds later, her lightweight body was squirming which caused her ass to rock and roll all over my face. When she leaned far forward, I could
see all of the way up to the back of her head. Her body seemed frozen in that lean-forward posture and I knew she was preparing. Yes, I knew. I had figured
out that girls often freeze so they can concentrate on their pending release and many stay frozen after so they can fully appreciate their work.

Caprice let a long, resonating fart that covered my nose and drifted to my forehead. She laughed and her butt jiggled. Others laughed with her until I
saw her right hand raise and the room become quiet, except for the mumbling teacher.

That stillness was shattered, destroyed, vanquished by a high-pitched squealer that sounded much like air being let out of a balloon pinched at the opening.
It was such a queer sound that the other girls burst into laughter immediately, not able to wait to hear the whole thing. I heard it. Sometimes the pitch
raised a little and sometimes it dipped but what remained consistent was laughter that filled the room.

The bell rang and she complained that she wasn’t done. Olivia told her she could continue farting in the next class which had another of those odd, custom-made
desks. I spent the first 15 minutes of that class with Caprice finishing her nasty-ass job on my face.

The female teacher didn’t once intervene.

When Caprice finished, three others took their turns farting in my face. When the class ended, the only ones of Olivia’s seven who had not done it were
Ellie and Carmen. I wasn’t concerned about them because the week before, Ellie had not had huge-gastric farts and Carmen was too sweet to do it again.

There was a 10 minute break before the final class of the day. I sat alone on a long bench in a secondary hallway with few people. I found myself wondering,
was this how I would earn my prestigious high school diploma? Letting high school girls fart in my face? For three years? Just lay there and let them sit
on me and fart, fart, fart? I wondered if my transcript for college would show "fartface" as one of my extracurricular accomplishments.

Just then, sassy Caprice rounded the corner and was hurriedly coming my way towing another girl with her. She was showing the new student her way around.
I cast my gaze down so I wouldn’t have to make eye-contact.

When she was within a few feet, I heard her tell the other girl, “Watch this!” She came close to me, demanded I look up, turned around, flipped up her
skirt, lifted her left leg, put her pantied bottom within inches of my face, and ripped such an extended raspberry that it blew the front of my hair. The
other girl’s hand covered her face and her eyes blew wide open in fascination and shock. My senses recoiled in the stench that Caprice left behind.

The bell rang to announce the final class.

I wasn’t surprised when Ellie pulled up her denim skirt and sat on me. She was a great and very sensual facesitter. She didn’t have sinister farts and
now that she was wearing leggings I knew my time under her would be easy. She wasn’t demonstrative. She sat as if oblivious to the fact that she was sitting
on a face and not a chair. Her leggings muffled her airy eruptions so there wasn’t much to cause the others to laugh.

When she got off, I knew I was home free! Carmen was the only one of the seven who hadn’t done it but she didn't fit with these other girls who farted
so I wasn't worried.

But then...why...why was I looking straight up and seeing her pretty face smiling down at me from within the frame of her lustrous and silky black hair?
Her smile was that of a friendly and pleasant 14 year old. But, she hadn’t moved. What was happening?

With her exceptional and courtly grace, she began to lower herself to kneel next to the desk. Her gorgeous brown eyes were deep with kindness and beauty.
Her mouth was flawless.

...until she stuck her tongue out at me. No, not to be rude, but rather to show that she...she...dammmm...Carmen had nearly finished a Ricola.

It couldn’t be! She wouldn’t. She just wasn’t like that!

Yet, I watched as her lean leg swung over the modified desk and I was looking straight up the tent of her dark skirt to see black panties. She was beginning
to lower herself and, despite the fact that she was going to stick her butt in someone’s face, there was an elegance and grace to it. I felt her nestle
down and my nose go up into the cleft between her butt cheeks. She had targeted perfectly and that convinced me that she would---

brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfffffffffffffffffffffffffffft

It must have lasted a full 10 seconds! That slender, gorgeous, freshman betrayed every appearance of innocence. She wasn’t at all demure when it came to
facefarting. She just plain gassed me right in the kisser with a fart that actually rattled my cheeks.

If you saw her on the street, you would never guess that this wholesome cheerleader was actually into farting in peoples’ faces.

She didn’t release as often as the others, but when she did, hers were thick and voluminous and sounded like a lawnmower at full throttle. She didn’t laugh,
but each time she farted, her body rocked as she giggled.

Actually, it was interesting how she did it...how she readied herself by pushing down harder, holding still to gather herself, then leaning a little forward
and ripping the most horrendous farts imaginable.

When she was done, she got off of me and stood and raised her hand and twiddled her fingers as if to say buh-bye.

The following days went much the same and in time there were other variations--- sessions in cars, after games, at parties (called farties), girls not
part of Olivia’s group, buttsniffing, Shani, kissing Ms. Marcoux’s ass, etc. There was talk of Ellie’s East Side Elementary girls but that hasn't happened.

It didn’t take long for me to give up and do what I was told and just let them do it. Just lay still while one high school girl after another sat on my
face and did her business.

The reason I’m writing this is to warn you. You may think you want high school girls to sit on your face, but you don’t know the power they have “back
there” and how willing some of them are to release it without caring for you whatsoever. And, once they have you under their butts, you’re at their mercy!