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My Big Fat Farty Friend 4 : Festive FartsI love Christmas. I love the presents, giving and receiving, I love catching up with folks and friends, I love lazing in front of the TV watching movies I’ve seen a dozen times before already and all the festive specials, but most of all I love the food.Christmas Day saw me blitz everything on my plate. As is tradition I go back to the folks where mum lays on all the trimmings; turkey, roasted potatoes, mash potatoes, carrots and turnips, stuffing, pigs in blankets, parsnips and of course sprouts.Not many people like sprouts. They kind of endure them for Christmas because its tradition. But I love ’em. And they make me fart like Satan’s hound!So naturally I devoured everything at lunch and drank wine, beers and Jack Daniels before the long and enjoyable day drew to a close. I may have even had a few turkey sandwiches and some nibbles too of course heheMy Boxing Day tradition is to catch up with a few mates I know from my training days. What normally happens is we go out early evening for a few drinks and a catch up and get in long before any of us turn into pumpkins, mainly because a few of my girls now have little ‘uns, bless ’em. As soon as I woke up Boxing Day morning I was looking forward to going out and I spent an age in the bath in the afternoon (making a few bubbles I must admit, whoops!) before getting dressed for my night out. I was wearing black leggings – or what I like to call my sausage casings hehe – a big flouncy leopard print top, big looped earrings and a sparkly hairband. I finished the outfit off with my nice wintry coat with its fur kurtköy escort trim and I was good to go. I must say, my digestive system was being kind to me whilst I was out; I only did a couple of farts and the girls either didn’t notice or didn’t mind – they’ve known me long enough now anyway! But this didn’t last. The sprouts would have their revenge!It took me a bit to get a cab out on the snowy streets of Boxing Day evening. But eventually it arrived, the driver being one of the ugliest blokes I have ever seen! He had a permanent scowl on his pinched features and a thick neanderthal forehead that was covered in purple pimples beneath a baseball cap. “Cheer up,” I called out breezily as I climbed into the back of the black cab “It’s Christmas!”He grunted a reply. “Christmas ain’t nothin’ to me luv, just means more work”Great, I thought, trust me to get Scrooge. Settling in, I told him where I lived and retrieved my mobile to send a text to my mate Mark (who runs this profile you’re reading this on!) to arrange our little get together for the following day. As the cab drove through the night I could feel my stomach grumbling as the pressure began to build up down on my back sphincter. Oh-uh, I thought. Here they come. I gently eased up my fleshy right cheek, putting all the weight on my leftie and, focusing on the effort, pushed out a fart.PftIt was a fluff. A real airy one. Not much to write home about and I soon settled back in waiting for Mark to text back. He was a bit slow tonight, so I decided to try again with my cabbie. I opened my mouth ready to ask him if he had a nice day yesterday kaynarca escort when the smell hit me. Oof, that was silent but very very deadly. I decided to keep my mouth shut.ThrubblaaaaartThat one took me by surprise and it rattled off the leatherette of the seat. I shifted about, but that wasn’t exactly my best idea; it just made the smell escape all the more. I could feel another one coming on. The slow acting sprouts really were having their revenge now! I fixed a concentrated stare on my face, my sight blurring slightly with the effort as I thundered one, two, three out in quick succession. I clenched my plush, luscious butt cheeks together tightly, hoping to contain the stench. I could imagine the cellulite heavy flesh rippling with the effort as I peered out through the condensation heavy window, just hoping to see a street I recognised outside. The sooner I was home the better. PrppppppptI nearly gagged. My sausage casings were not containing these farts at all and, soon enough, my activities were noticed by the grump behind the wheel. I could see his nose twitch in the rearview mirror and eventually, his eyes shot up to take my oh so innocent appearance in with some considerable accusation “Have you farted?”I tried to look surprised, but it didn’t work. I could feel another brewing at that very moment. I shrugged and batted my eyelids “Yeah, sorry. Christmas eh? Too much rich food”But this grumpy git wasn’t the type to fall for my girlie charms and he groaned with horror before pulling the car up kerbside. “What?” I asked “What are you doing?””You know what” he said, jerking kartal escort his head towards the pavement as he switched the meter off “Out””Out?” I asked. By my reckoning I was a good five minute walk from home “You’re actually chucking me out….for farting?””It fuckin’ reeks in here” he complained “Go on, hop it””But it’s Christmas” I protested weakly “C’mon where’s your Christmas spirit you old Scrooge?””If I didn’t have to pay maintenance to my bitch ex wife and my son, I wouldn’t be driving dirty fat chubbas like you home,” he snapped angrily “I’d be drinking Christmas spirit down the pub with my mates. Now will you get out?!””Fine” I snapped back, pushing at the door and – I have to confess – feeling very grateful for the cold fresh air that immediately greeted me. I wasn’t however feeling grateful or pleased about the snow that was falling, I was going to get soaked.I waddled up to the driver’s side door and huffed as I brought down the window “How much do I owe you then?”As he glanced back at the meter, I spun around and brought myself up on my tiptoes. His head was just turning back to find himself confronted by my broad ripe bulging black legging clad arse cheeks right in his face.BrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppptttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttMy God, that one felt good!”Ugh! You dirty….”I didn’t hear the rest. Giggling, I watched as he sped off, leaving me to it. I took a deep breathe in at the ripe rattler I got my own back with. It was the smell of victory, no doubt about that and suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad about walking home.The moral of the story? Well there’s three I reckon; not every bloke enjoys a good fart from a big beautiful bum like mine, Scrooge’s get what they deserve and lastly, never underestimate the power of a sprout! x
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