The Appliance from Holland
by ???

Susan and John were just like any other normal family: they had two children, two cars in the driveway, a swimming pool out back, and a pet dog. There was only one difference between this family and any other normal family: the gas. I'm not talking about gas supplied to power cookers and appliances etc. I'm talking about Susan.

Before their marriage, John and Susan were perfectly normal as a couple; not a dot strange about them. They took the bold step to get married after living together for 2 years, as many couples would have done. They had a great wedding, and the reception was a dream come true for John: it seemed as though everything was going to be perfect for the happy twosome. But then came the honeymoon.

Susan and John stepped into their room, before chucking their suitcases on the floor, and exchanging a deep, sensual kiss. Susan slowly took John by the hand, and moved it so that it was quite far up her ass. John didn't care, he was enjoying himself enough, but Susan had been concocting a plan on the flight over the Pacific. While she was entertaining John with her mouth's skills, she entertained herself with the best thing she had: she silently farted on John's hand. As she ended the kiss, she told him:
"Smell your hand, honey." John looked at her strangely, but raised the hand to his nasal receptors. The stench hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Good God, what did you do to it?" Susan put on a fake look of shock.
"Why the hell to you think that I did something to it? Fucking hell, John, you're always accusing me of stuff like that! What the hell's you're damn problem?!" She walked briskly towards the door, but instead of storming out, as would have been expected, she locked it, and then shut the windows and drew the curtains. John looked bemused as Susan, in all her stunning beauty (long, luscious brown hair, average boobs, firm, J-Lo sized ass, Hispanic) proceeded to close out the world from their room. She stood dead in front of him, and then levelled him with a strong kick to his groin. "Get under the covers, boy, because I've got something for you." John quickly did as he was told, and scrambled under the duvet on the bed. Susan went over to her suitcase, and got a bra of hers. "John, before I do anything, put this around your eyes," she said, handing him the breast-wear. He dutifully wrapped the bra around his head, out of sheer love for his new wife. What he didn't know were the real reasons for Susan wanting to marry him.

Susan got into the bed, her head above the covers, with his underneath. She positioned her ample bottom just a couple of inches from her partner's face, and released a foul wind: bbbbBBBBRRRPPPPPPSSSsssssss!
"Oh, yeah, that felt good to me, John. But how does it smell? Oh, what's that? Need more of a sample? Well, okay!" She spread her cheeks, and sprayed a truly foul SBD, right up John's nose: pppppppppPPPPPPPRRRSSSSSsssssss! John could only smell the remnants of the cabbage soup that Susan had been starving herself on up until the wedding. By now the smell was circulating around the underside of the duvet, much to John's displeasure and Susan's delight. That soup had been tearing up Susan's insides for weeks now, but it wasn't as though she needed it ñ this girl was the meaning of the word flatulent. Air literally makes her gassy, and it ain't recycled air!

You see, Susan had this farting habit. But she was really pissed off that no-one had ever really appreciated it before, so she decided she was going to have to get someone interested in it, so she thought she'd get herself a husband, and gas him until he loved it more than she did, although she didn't really think that that was possible.
"Oh Johnny, I need to break some rude wind, but I don't really want to smell it. Would you sniff it all up for your Suzy-Woozy?" she asked disparagingly. John felt that he had to oblige like a true gent, because that was the way his father brought him up. He had to do anything he could to make her life better, at least that's what he thought. So he had to inhale her gaseous emissions, however sickeningly rank they may be.
"Yes, darling!" he said, unable to speak further with the appallingly tainted air blocking up his system.
"Put your nose between the cheeky twins, then, and start taking deep, long breaths," she told him, closely. John felt around, until he managed to place his nose between her peaches for asscheeks. Susan was overjoyed with her man's willingness to obey her demands, but she wanted something more than just sheer obedience. She wanted John to develop a lust for her butt blasts. So she geared up for what she wanted to be something for John to remember her for before bedtime. "John, don't forget to take those breaths," she warned, before clenching her buttocks and getting ready for something evilly satisfying: BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTT!!! She wasn't even expecting that sort of dangerously loud and proud anal emission. And to her astonishment, John had stayed in place for the whole of it. He was still breathing up the gas, as well. She ruffled the covers, to smell for herself what she was submitting her new hubby to: "Jesus, that's terrible! Oh God, that's just awful!" She ran out of the room, and down to the dining room, where they were having Susan's favourite food (conveniently enough) ñ bean tacos. Susan rushed to the cart and started to devour taco after taco, eventually finishing and going back upstairs after 15(!) tacos. As she was walking back to her room, she saw an open door, with no-one inside, and she saw the ready-made bed; she couldn't resist. She crept in the room, silently as her SBDs, and got herself in a position where her butt was just barely touching the pillow. She closed her eyes, and relaxed her intestines and colon: BBBBBBRRRPPPPTT!! She was about to get up, but felt another one coming: ffffRRRRPPPPPP!! She leant down to the pillow, and gave it a small sniff. "Eeewwww, that smells," she said, fanning her face, before she hopped off happily out the door. As she did, she heard the steps of someone behind her walking into the room she had just left. She peeked around the door, and was just able to see the middle-aged man collapse onto the bed, face-first. He lay on the pillow for a couple of seconds, before his whole body tensed up and he pushed his head away from the pillow. Susan smiled widely, and progressed upstairs, to where her prey lie.

As she entered the room, she found John in the shower, trying to wash himself free of the evil-smelling odour that Susan had poured all over him.
"Oh no, you don't," she said as she grabbed John out of the shower and handed him a towel. "Wipe yourself off, and then get into that bed," she commanded. John looked at her briefly, and then she as she had told him to do, before climbing back into the scene of the previous crime. He looked at her, at which point she said "Under the covers, John." John slunk under the covers, and awaited his fate. Susan smiled cruelly, and then jumped into bed with him. "Now don't worry, John, just try to go to sleep, that's all I'm doing." John breathed a sigh of relief, which Susan thought was cute since she was planning on something much more evil than mere sleep. She turned away from John, and waited until he had dozed away somewhat, but not totally asleep yet. He was still awake when she raised the side of her mouth in a contemptuous grin, and she steadied her backside: BBBBRRRRLLLLPPTT! "Ooh, excuse me, Johnny." John stirred a little, turning towards Susan's bum, but then quickly away from it. Susan chuckled softly at this, as she readied herself again: BBBPPPPLLLLTTTTTTT! "Oh, Johnny, I am SO sorry," she said, trying to stifle any of her laughter. John was starting to notice the smell surrounding him now, but he thought it un-gentlemanly to bring it up, although the sulphurous mixture of methane and burrito goodness was starting to suffocate him a little. Susan, on the other hand, was absolutely loving it. She hadn't felt this good!well, ever. Just then, she felt another twinge in her torso, producing another pressure on her colon: ppppPPPRRRRRPPPppsssss!.She didn't think that John would hear, but it was quite a whistly sort of sound, she guessed. (It's worth pointing out that at this stage Susan was still wearing her butt-hugging, khaki-coloured trousers, which made the sensation all the worse of John)

She fell asleep a short while after that, but when she woke up, she accidentally moved the covers so that she could smell her dirty business last night, her reaction to which was a combination of coughing heaving, and running to the nearest window for air. Jesus Christ, she thought, how could John take so much of this? For the rest of the day, she and John walked around the island like the honeymoon lovers they were meant to be, with Susan acting immaculately, except for her constant eating of all foods hot and spicy, for that evening's performance.

When they got back to the hotel, John suggested that they have a rest, to which Susan instantly agreed. To her dismay, John started to snooze on top of the bed, but Susan said: "Honey, why don't we sleep under the covers? We might get more rest that way?" John didn't argue with her; in fact, he obeyed her, almost like a servant. Susan noted this, before pulling the covers over her wonderful Hispanic body, and denim-encased ass. Now that they were both under the covers, she could begin her second performance. She wriggled about a bit, before releasing something into the wild: PPPPPRRRRRRRRPPPPP! John was wondering what was making Susan do this, as he'd never even a squeak out of her bum in the two years running up to the honeymoon, let alone the satanic sounds erupting from between her buttocks lately. Susan left it for a little while, before letting off some more steam: BBBPPPPPTTT! She reached underneath the covers and fanned her butt comically. She let the intestines fill up a bit more, before hitting a rather bum note: vvvVVVVRRRRRPPPPPPP!! It was then that she attacked John, by lifting the covers over his head, and forcing him to breathe her gas. John struggled a little bit at first, but then succumbed to the methane infiltrating his nostrils. Susan wanted to see if John was all right, so she farted again: BBBPPLLTT! John started to squirm again, but only for a few seconds. Now Susan felt she was making progress.
"John, are you OK?"
"Yes, darling," he said, very wearily.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes, yes!" he trailed off. She moved slowly, but just quick enough to catch his face underneath those fine, warm arsecheeks of hers. She laid down flat, and wanted to see what John would do to her. He writhed for a little while, but started to stop. Susan leaned over on one cheek, and PHURT! She quickly put both cheeks firmly back on John's face to trap the smell, and stop it from escaping. John started to really wriggle now, and so Susan punished him: BBPPLLATT! A wet, veggie-smelling fart echoed around John's head, as he tried to escape this torture. Susan was laughing loudly, but didn't really like this struggling from John, so she farted some more gas out for him to inhale: BBBBBPPPRRRPPSSSS!!!

After about 45 minutes more of this hell for John, he stopped the squirming and the wriggling and the writhing. He'd been breathing nothing but hot, thick farts for the past hour or so, but he hadn't passed out; he'd simply got used to them, in a way. Susan was a little concerned, so she stopped farting for about a minute, but she was pleasantly surprised when John started to wriggle again, but this time once she hadn't farted for a while. She decided that she had to test this out, so she let one fly, up his nose again: PPRRPPP! John didn't squirm; instead, he was inhaling. Deeply. She went for it again. More inhalations. She'd done it. She'd got him hooked on her bodily gas. Now he was hers forever more. She threw off the covers, which threw up all her fart gas in turn, but she covered her nose, and straddled John in the 69 position.
"So," she started, "you like my farts now, do you?" John didn't really respond, except by nodding his head a little. "Really? Is that so? Well, get a load of this!" bbBBBBBRRRRPPPPPTTTTTSSSSSssssssss!a light, airy, veggie-smelling, bubbly fart erupted from her curvaceous butt, which John loved now. As he was smelling her out, a chambermaid slowly walked in, not making her presence known to either John or Susan. When she saw what was going on, she gasped, bringing John and Susan's attention right to her. When Susan saw the maid, she thought quickly, coming up with: "Could you come over here, please?" The maid gingerly stepped towards the couple, when all of a sudden Susan grabbed her shirt and threw her onto the bed. She climbed over to where the maid was now lying, and sat hard on her face. "Now," said Susan, "You're not going to tell anyone about this, right?" The maid didn't reply, so Susan did what only she could: BBBRRRRPPTTTT! "I said 'Right?'!" The chambermaid was wriggling viciously now, but she managed to somehow get "No." out of those creamy, silken arsecheeks of Susan's. Susan got off her face, and threw her out the door.

Well, now it's five years later, and after two pregnancies, Susan's farting capability have increased quite heavily. She and John live a very happy life, as they make videos of their facefarting escapades for the Internet when their kids are at school, are have become cult heroes on the 'Net.

To conclude, they lived gassily ever after.