Fart Maniac

My name is Donald, and I like farts! As a child, even before going to school, my mom kept telling me that it was not polite to fart in front of someone else. I remember that I wasn’t even allowed to use the word "fart", so that probably made it feel more taboo. Farting in public was obviously strictly forbidden.

It is much later, as an adult, that I heard about eproctophilia, the fetish whereby people are sexually aroused by other humans’ flatulence. I did not know it then, but I was an eproctophile or fart maniac way back in grade school. Around 9 or 10, I had an unsaid admiration for other boys who were "public" farters; they always seemed so uninhibited, so confident and also a little subversive.

In general, farting is regarded as embarrassing. Even though some people find public farts to be funny, many simply call it gross. In my case, a man’s fart can be sexually arousing.

When I got older and more in-tune with my sexuality, I would make experiences in the locker room. One day when I was feeling a little jaded and wanting to shock, I let rip rather loudly in front of another man in the university gym changing room. The reaction was a smile. The next time I farted, he said “Meet me in the shower!” We were alone and he begged me to blow a stinky one in his face. I obliged and asked him to reciprocate, but he preferred to be only on the receiving line.

While some guys are sexually aroused by farting on someone, I enjoy being farted on. It didn’t take me long to find online forums, and exchange with friends who have a fart fetish like mine. My first live, hot and smelly experience was with James, a tourist I met in a gay bar. We were having a glass of beer and sharing some fantasies. When farting came up, I was so aroused. James noticed it and deducted that I was a true fart maniac.

I followed him to his hotel. Once in the room, he introduced me to the “fart ritual”. First, a shower to be very clean ALL over. Second, stand naked, face to face, then turn around for an ass-to-ass rub. Third, on you knees to caress the butt cheeks, to kiss the rump roast. You are obviously hard, so you slide your dick up and down in the crack, and tap the pooper like you were knocking on the door. Ears and nose greet the answer!

James and I spent hours together, farting on each other’s hands, balls, cock, and best of all, in each other’s face. The virile intoxication kept us hard and eager to go further. We sucked each other in the 69 position, ready to bury our face in the crack when a flatulence was ready to explode. We may have felt like demons, but the manly smell made it look like Heaven on Earth.

Just as I was about the leave my fart-mate, James asked if I knew about Joseph Pujol alias Le Pétomane. I had no idea who he was talking about. Le Pétomane’s story is worth a short trip down Memory Lane. Joseph Pujol (1857-1945) was a French professional farter and entertainer. He appeared at the Moulin Rouge in 1887 under the name Pétomane (pet is French for fart, and the suffix -mania means folly in Greek).

Some of the highlights of Pujol’s stage act involved sound effects of cannon fire and thunderstorms, as well as playing O Sole Mio and La Marseillaise on an ocarina through a rubber tube in his anus. His audience included Edward Prince of Wales, King Leopold II from Belgium and Sigmund Freud.  

Joseph Pujol refined his act to make it more popular. One of his favorite numbers became a rhyme about a farm which he himself composed, and which he punctuated with anal renditions of the animals’ sounds.

Back in my hometown, I met a few guys who enjoyed farting on my face or having a gay man spread his flatulence on their body. I soon found out that wrestling could generate hot stinking virile smells. I would beg wrestlers to let me bury my face in their singlet, and relish their man gas. For some gay guys like me, the stench can be the most glorious thing ever smelt. It gets me hard and wrestlers don’t hesitate to jump on the occasion, ready to suck and fuck me. 

The tone of a fart plays a big role. High pitch or like a music melody, it can trigger a different reaction. Every fart also has a different fragrance. Some smell like damp autumn leaves, others like apple pie with a cinnamon flavor. When a guy rips a bubbly series of fart on my face, I can’t sniff enough. I get engulfed by a feeling of total euphoria. I should add also that kissing on the smelly pooper and on the succulent lips back and forth can be so fuckin hot!

Finally, I discovered that a hairy ass was a real bonus. The manly odor seems to get caught in the curly or spiky duvet. Sniffing a hairy crack after a fart not only extends the sexual intoxication, it accentuates the virile pleasure.

One thing I would like to mention, in closing, is that fart fetish does not mean feces fetish. I have never found an eproctophile being fond of coprophilia, the fact of being aroused by feces. We find shit gross. But man gas smells divine!