Megumi Part I, Uncensored
Well I should start at the beginning. I grew about around women who farted (a lot). It didn't take long for me to become accustomed and immune to the smell's negative effects due to constant exposure. I became indifferent to it. My naive mind concluded it was just something chicks did. So it was with great surprise that as I got older, I realized that "girls don't fart". At least, they were not supposed to. I was confused by all the fuss and taboos over something so harmless, but I shrugged it off. Unfortunately my attitudes had set the stage for the formation of my unusual fetish.
When I first discovered girls, I had the traditional attraction to the usual aspects of teenage women: their breasts, their asses, their legs, etc. I eventually started noticing their farts again, but again didn't make an issue out of it. When I finally became exposed to pornography at 18, however, my attitudes toward what was sexy in women started to veer towards the bizarre. Reading various hardcore, extremely perverted lesbian stories filled my mind with morbid imagery. And the more I was exposed the more perverse my fantasies became. Lesbianism had already taken certain stage in my fantasies (as I was already fascinated by women making out with women), and now it became a central element of them.
Now my mind started to form a link between women and farts again, only this time it was rapidly acquiring a sexual connotation. One day, everything changed: something happened that cemented the link between the two concepts permanently. There was this one older woman in a miniskirt, bending over to pick something up. Her huge, meaty, bubble-butt (looking like a plump upside-down heart) was right in front of me, and I stared at it. Oh my God she was hot; I got a hard-on just looking that ass! The way her plump globes pressed against the tight miniskirt, lovely! I would definitely not mind humping that butt! I suddenly heard the woman grunt, and then it happened. It seems to happen in slow-motion now, as I remember it like it was yesterday. She adjusted her legs and butt. Her ass jutted out, and then I heard the noise. It was an incredibly loud fart, and I heard her gasp in surprise (she had obviously been trying not to make any noise). As she farted her bubble-butt continued to move towards me, angling upwards slightly. I saw her cheeks vibrate as the hot air escaped from her body. Although the gas was briefly trapped within her miniskirt, the dense air started to make itself known. I had heard the farts of women countless times, seen their butts go off, but this time was different.
The arousal hit me unexpectedly: her doing this in front of me was turning me on like nothing before. It was just so lewd, seeing this oh-so-proper woman doing something so taboo. She had farted, and chicks don't fart. I knew that, and the incredible naughtiness of watching her break that taboo caused an amazing rush in me. This embodiment of womanly perfection had just done the most perfectly depraved thing (so taboo, and yet so harmless), and the voyeurism of watching a chick fart (practically in my face no less) was an astonishing experience. That naughty sound of her woman's wind, blasting out of her hot-as-hell ass, the entire experience caused my cock to become almost painfully hard. What an unladylike act, what wonderfully naughty music....you nasty woman! And I absolutely loved her for doing it. Alas, the woman only had so much to unleash from her butt. Of course the poor woman in front of me was embarrassed as hell. She had no idea what she had just done to me.
In that moment, my mind had linked women and farts together in one perverse combination. The act of watching a woman fart (or better yet, watching lesbians fart on each other while making out) had become the ultimate thrill because it was so forbidden, so rarely witnessed in full force. After that incident, my fantasies abruptly changed. In my mind's eye, I saw strange images. I saw Marilyn Monroe's skirt fly up because she had farted (and of course she acted like a slut while doing this). I saw ladies who were so proper in public really put out in private (and love doing it). I saw lesbians (although I saw them all the time anyway) fart in every conceivable way on each other. I pictured women becoming ridiculously bloated with gas and then expel it all at once in earth-shatteringly loud, long pieces of womanly music. One of my particular favorites was the mass cheerleader farting sequence: a bunch of preppy cheerleaders pull down their panties, line up kneeling side-by-side, stick their fat asses in the air, and fart simultaneously like sluts. They were dirty, mischievous, perverse thoughts and I loved the audacity of the lewd visions. I jacked off to these naughty images of depraved women and forbidden acts. I loved the fact that the imagery was so different, so unique, so bold, and so forbidden. That was the root of the whole fetish: watching (and hearing) women openly farting like crazy as if it was no big deal, and loving the depravity behind all of it. Thus every time a woman farted it was a joy to behold.
But I wanted to see more than I was getting to see. I hoped to find a girlfriend who would be uninhibited, who would not hold back. For a while I was unsuccessful. As it turned out, when I was 19, a certain Miss Megumi (age 31) moved into the neighborhood. She was an amazingly gorgeous woman (hell she was beyond that, she was astonishingly beautiful). How can I describe her? She was like the sun, she radiated so much warmth. Her eyes were so soft, yet formal in a very feminine way. I felt like I could fall into those almond-shaped eyes, they were that beautiful. Her glasses were thin and square-framed. Her facial features were youthful and somewhat delicate. Her full, shiny lips were an intense shade of red. Her nose was cute but professional-looking; her chin was small and slightly pointed. Her face was shaped like a smooth oval. Her long black hair was astonishingly delicate and healthy, drawn back into a ponytail. A thin gold necklace was around her neck, she wore a pair of light blue gemstone ear rings. Megumi wore a deep blue miniskirt business outfit, and a tight but thin light grey shirt that greatly emphasized her full breasts. Her pantyhose were light grey and went up slightly past her knees. Her high heels were a very black cherry color. I wondered how a M.I.L.F like her hadn't been married yet. I soon found out why.
I first met her when Megumi first came into the neighborhood, house-scouting. She was looking around, and seemed to be particularly interested in the house next door to mine. So I went up to her and said: "Good morning, miss."
She turned around and nodded slightly, "Good morning to you young man."
I smiled in mild embarrassment, "Haven't been called that in a while. I'm not complaining or anything, I'm just commenting."
She suddenly gasped in shock, "I can't believe...I haven't even introduced myself! My name is Megumi Komoshiro, and there is a very good chance I'm going to be your new neighbor. Can you tell me who you are, or is that a secret?"
I laughed mildly, "Of course I can tell you. It's Galice Redgrave. And no, I have no idea why my parents named me that. Then again there were a lot of things about my mother and father I didn't get. You have parents right?"
Megumi signed, "Unfortunately yes. I still haven't completely escaped from their grasp. They seem determined to treat me like a child. I'm thirty-one for God's sake. I think by now I can take care of my own affairs."
I exhaled almost inaudibly, "Maybe they are afraid to loose you."
Megumi nodded a few times, "Oh I know they want to. I am after all their daughter. They don't like how westernized I've become. Freaks them out. But it was my choice."
I shrugged, "True. I take it you are....married?"
Megumi looked slightly pained and she hesitated, "No."
I was shocked, "How is that possible? I assume that is by choice?"
Megumi signed, "I have a problem that drives all potential husbands away. They can't stand it, and I can't cure it."
I still was having trouble believing her, "It can't be that bad."
Megumi was grimacing slightly as if in sudden discomfort: "I...assure you it is. The longer I hold it back the...worse...it gets. It's already starting again."
I laughed, "What could possible be the problem?"
Megumi suddenly glared at me in anger, and said in a deadpan voice: "Do you really want to know?"
I shrugged, "It's your call Miss Megumi."
Megumi smiled slightly. But there was a slight bitterness in her words: "Very well then. I'll show you just what my problem is."
