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The Boss' Smelly Ass I was standing at the copy machine late one afternoon waiting for my boss, a tall, dark-haired woman, to finish up. I watched her thick ass in her tight, short dress and wondered what it smelled like up there. I always fantasy about stuff like that, but little did I realize that fantasy would soon become reality. And in a big, smelly way. "Ffffffffffrpssssshhhhhh..." I heard her ass say to me from across the empty office. Then she smiled to herself as the copy machine blinked and whirred. My mouth fell open. Here was my boss, one of the most powerful women I'd ever known, a ballbuster of a leader, a total pro who took no shit from anyone and exuded nothing but professionalism and stature wherever she went...cutting the cheese like a mere mortal. Then the fucking smell wafted across the room where I leaned on the wall, and it hit me like a ton of stinky bricks, a cheesy, sharp, cutting aroma. I coughed, so she'd know I was there. But she already knew. "Barrrrrrrrummmmm..." another roared, this one with a little more heft to it as she slightly spread her legs to let it escape from the ample ass it was birthed from. Tracy was a big girl, not fat, but big-boned, solid, with thick, hard-looking legs and a wide, succulent ass. She always drove me crazy but now, as a new batch of butt woofahs floated my way, now I was having my doubts. I said fuck it to using the copy machine and went back to my desk. She disappeared into her office moments later. Then my phone rang. "Paul, get in my office now," Tracy said calmly and hung up. I obeyed and walked in. The stench inside her spacious office was eye-watering. She sat behind her big desk, smiling, tapping her belly with her hands as she motioned for me to shut the door. "Uh...you wanted to see me?" I said, trying not to look like the smell was killing me, which it was. "I've been farting all day, can you tell?" she said, with an evil laugh. "Do you like my fart smell?" I couldn't believe this. Ordinarily, I'd love to fantasize about just about anything involving this long-legged, dark-haired woman who looked a lot like the actress who once played the station manager on "Frazier." But now, as the smell permeated my being, I was having second thoughts. "Uh, no, not really, Tracy," I said. "It really is kinda bad." "Mistress Tracy," she said, standing up and walking over to me, her six-foot presence towering over my 5-6. "You'll call me Mistress Tracy. And I want you to ask me to fart in your face." I looked up at her, mouth open in shock. "Uh, I really have to finish up," I said, turning to grab the doorknob, thinking what a great sexual harassment lawsuit this would make and how I might actually get her job. "No one will believe you, you know," she said, reading my mind. "So just stay and take it like a man, you worm!" Her dress shoe connected with my nuts from behind in a vicious kick up between my legs. I hit my knees in a blinding white pain and then felt Tracy's strong calves encircle my neck in a standing scissors. I was looking down at her feet as her bulbous lower legs muscled up alongside my neck, cutting off the blood to my brain. "Nighty-night," she hissed, crossing her feet to put on a life-threatening squeeze. I passed out. When I awoke, I was lying face up on her big desk and looking right into the thickest ass I'd ever seen. Tracy was straddling my face, her thighs embracing my ears, her hands spreading her huge rump to flash her hairy, greasy asshole at me. Her tight dress was hiked up over her lush hips. "Put your nose in my asshole and ask me to fart," she growled, rotating each cheek in her hand. "Do it." I couldn't, so she snap locked her insanely long legs on my head and crushed me blue. I thought my head was pinned under a truck wheel, the pain was that sudden and intense. I screamed for mercy and uttered the words she longed to hear. "...M...mistress Tracy...please....fart...on my...face..." I stammered. "And up my nose...say it, Mistress Tracy, put your asshole on my nose and blast a stinky into my brain!!!" she roared. I obeyed, saying words I'd never thought in a million years I'd ever say. But I did. She sighed and settled back, her hirsute buttring devouring my nose as I felt the smooth muscles of her shitter walls chew it deep inside. Then the world ended in the form of a 20-second barrage of buttgun fire, a staccato burst of pure methane th at drilled itself past my nose, past my brain and deep into my soul, embedding my psyche with a stink I'd never shed. Then the impossible happened. She pulled my cock out of my pants and stroked me to stiffness. I couldn't fucking believe it, my face was being scorched with the smelliest farts since the dinosaurs quaffed up prehistoric butt thunder from eating all that primordial vegetation, and I was hard as a fucking rock. Tracy laughed, or so it sounded. I couldn't hear too well with thighs in my ears. "Cum for Mistress Tracy, you low life puke, I'll give you an orgasm," she said, jacking my cock faster and faster, doing it exactly the way it felt best, like she'd been watching me all those times in my apartment jacking myself off thinking of fucking her. "I want to see a big goopy load of nut-sauce explode all over my hand!" She didn't wait long. As her asshole bellowed in and out with a constant flow of fearful flatulence that pasted itself like glue to my moaning face, my balls twitched and my cockhead erupted into a geyser of pure man-chowder, a thick torrent of joy juice cutting the air and hitting her pumping hand with a resounding SPLAT!!! Tracy moaned loudly and actually came as she jerked me and continued to lace my face with her never-ending butt bombs. When she finished, she brought her cummy hand back to her ass, spreading her cheeks with her other hand. I screamed. The vibrations in her hairy twat made her come again. She thanked me. "Eat up," she hissed. She wiped my cum all over her fetid asshole as she leaned forward a bit to give herself some room. Then she settled back again, my nose impossibly going deeper still into her spongy assring, so deep I figured I'd be smelling her breath if she kept pushing me inside. Then the farts came again, this time sprays of come driven by bowel-busting blasts of intestinal air, the tang of spew rippling my nose flesh that was already tenderized from the last half hour of rippling rump riffs. I twitched uncontrollably and thought I was in the throes of death. When she let go and my lungs sucked in huge gulps of un-assified air, I thought it was the sweetest smell in the room, no matter the whole place was tainted by her constant ass gas for so long the fucking wallpaper would keep the stink on the walls for years to come. I gagged and wiped my face with weak hands, succeeding only in smearing the fart-imbued come all over myself. Tracy straightened her dress out and laughed, rolling me off her desk and giving me a minute to straighten up. "Go make me 300 copies of this," she said, handing me a letter. "It' s a memo to everyone about the Clean Air Act and how we have to do our part to keep things fresh smelling around here!" She laughed and I slunk away.... |
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