Lesbian Fart

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Lesbian Fart
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JENNIE CLARK'S FART SNIFFER Serving my Sister and Protecting the World I’m inside my sister’s bedroom late on a Friday evening, carefully folding her many pairs of panties on top of her meticulously made bed. Every piece of underwear I folded was part of a rainbow of wild colors: red silk, blue satin, lacy yellow thongs, a few black and silver G-strings, all haphazardly tossed into the drawer in no particular order. But white underwear was the most dominate piece, most pieces containing brown smearing skid marks right where her asshole would meet them. There were 30 pieces of undergarments, most of them big enough to fit around my sister’s shapely posterior, some of them a little too small but that didn’t matter to her. I folded them neatly, very neatly, there was a precise way of doing it too and I had it down pat. Opening up the barren drawer I placed each piece of undergarment in in a particular order that signified what was what. First the silk panties, then the blue satin, then the thongs, the G-strings and finally the underwear. My sister was never too particular about what pair of underwear she wears each day, but she was very anal in making sure that the color arrangement was correct. On the next level down were her shirts, again there was a variety, some low cut, some T-shirts, some long-sleeved and some tank-top. It didn’t matter what went there, only that it was folded neatly and arranged again with some great order. Following that were her ten bras, three yellow, two black, two red and three white. All of them size 34 D. No one would have imagined a girl like her having such lovely breasts, but my sister did. And her bras were arranged again in a neat order, one bra cup over the other, they all had to be the same size and all had to fit like a stack of cups. The next drawer down contained her shorts and pants. As I’ve pointed out they all had to be nice, neatly folded and cleaned so not to leave any remaining signs of contamination on them. It took me three hours to do my sister’s laundry and to do it in such great order. Doing her laundry wasn’t just some other chore, it was a calling, a profession, it was part of a larger sense in my world’s view of what was correct and decent in it. A sign of a truly devoted slave was to make sure that you understood all the nuisances of even the most demeaning tasks. At least by doing her laundry I had the privilege of touching the articles of clothing that would grace her queenly body each and every day. Cleaning the bedroom of a 17-year old on the high end of the autism spectrum was also a challenge worthy of only an obedient slave such as myself. The room didn’t just have to be clean; it had to be perfect, every day. The demands of serving my sister are high indeed and only a person like myself can handle the challenge. Her bed must be made with specific specifications. A marron-colored cover is folded in such a way that I could easily pass as the bed maker for the finest of hotels. The grey carpet is vacuumed in precise vacuum lines so that nothing seems out of order. Her laptop computer is closed, cleaned on the outside and arranged in the exact center of the desk. Her bookshelves are lined in alphabetical order so that she may find her desired book in quick detail. Sometimes she would pick one up and leave it on the ground, or a table or her bed. It would be my job to make sure that I placed it back in order. And when she would leave 15 books around in different locations of the room it would make the search a little harder. All worthy for serving such a special person. Despite everything about her she is incredibly smart, a high IQ and matched intelligence with all but the pure geniuses of the world. Her abilities were different from what most doctors had concluded for her. This meant that she needed an increasingly large number of books to fuel her growing intelligence. What was stunted was more her emotional and social skills, naturally she had very few friends. Her walls were white, a large world map and a large U.S. map were on two sides. A couple of drawings were located on opposite sides of her bedroom. One contained an exploding volcano with lava oozing out of the cone, the other a meadow in springtime with blooming flowers of different colors. Both were made by her and both were amazing paintings. Her closet featured a few more of these paintings for display on the wall, which she instructed me to put up on at different times at her whim. Whenever she was feeling like she’d like me to change the paintings. There were 20 or so paintings, all of them magnificent creations from the inside the complex mind of a girl still developing and all of them worthy for being part of an art exhibit at the local museum. She was afraid that such superior artwork would then garter attention in her direction and she wasn’t too big on having the spotlight on her. I finish polishing all the furniture in the building and applying a small amount of air freshener on the room. I sit down on her bed and look around with pride. This was the bedroom of a truly great person. One in a generation would a person like me get the chance to do such beautiful work for an intelligent person such as my sister. Once in a lifetime to you get the chance to truly find your purpose so quickly in your life that you are relieved to still have many years to experience it. It takes people many years to find the job they enjoy, many career opportunities and what not. For me it took until I was only 18 years old. Now 22 I find myself in my dream job, for life, as slave to my special sister Jennie. As I declared Jennie’s room cleaned for its master’s occupation I took a look at my phone, a cheap device that was featured only the basic stuff, as compared to my sister’s fancy iPhone7, a birthday gift to my master for her birthday, I noticed a news article just popped up. It mentioned news of a restaurant being evacuated due to a gas leak. It was meaningless to me at first but I soon began to wonder if there was any sort of connection to this and the fact that my sister was coming in a little late. Not that it mattered, she could arrive whenever she wanted, my family gave her great latitude, they were happy that she was just seeing her friend Jeremy in the first place. Part of it was because they were trying to mold her behavior so that she didn’t explode out of nowhere. Jennie’s temper was easily the worst of the family and when she really blew up she really blew up. Therefore, she was given free rein to most extents when it came to doing things in the house and in reality she was usually well behaved so it was earned on her part. Still, with her activity and behavior and my lack thereof she had become the most important person in the household that my parents look after and I gratefully serve. I live for the day when the household truly become Jennie’s. Only a goddess such as herself is worthy of absolute control over all of us as she has over me. I hear her loud obnoxious voice announce that she’s home with the door slammed and leave her bedroom immediately to greet her. “….and so she’s coming over tomorrow for us to hang out. I hope it’s not a problem for you.” Jennie said to our parents as they quickly shook their heads in agreement. She wasn’t much to have friends over so anytime she did it was treated like more of an occasion. I walked into find her standing there in the living room as she threw her backpack down on the floor, expecting me to pick it up and take it to her room. “Welcome back.” I addressed my sister. Jennie was hardly the looker, but that’s what made her charm different. She had long black hair that flowed on both sides of her head erratically down past her shoulders and a pair of black glasses that gave her that definite nerdy look. She was only a D cup in terms of breast size and her ass stood out a cool nine inches. Her 5’8 frame was slightly bigger than my own and her 165 pound weight was also heavier. She ate a ton and I ate little. Her faded blue jeans gave her butt some sort of coverage that made it stand out if in its own way. She wore a light red shirt that highlighted her very modest cleavage, which hid a golden pendent she was wearing as a necklace. She had all the natural parts to be a pretty attractive girl if she had any worry in the world to flaunt it. “Hey George. Take this for me.” She said as I picked up the backpack, filled with three full-sized textbooks and some other items of hers. I loved the tone of her voice, something that helped add to the unusual nature of our relationship. Her voice was deeper in tone and more erratic, while she spoke sentences okay, after years of developing proper speech patterns, her tone of voice shifted from word to word to make it really stand out. “So where did you and Jeremy head off too?” Our mother asked Jennie. “Taco Bell….speaking of which….” Jennie lifted her right leg and casually pushed out a thick bubbly fart out of her ass. BBBBBBBBBBBBrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmmmmmppppppppffffffffffffftttttttttttt!!!!!! For eight long seconds my sister pushed out what could only be described as an “after-school” fart. These farts were the beginnings of a release of pent up flatus within her. This fart in particular was super loaded with the kind of wet bubbly bass that made for all the best kinds of loud farts. She stood there with a small smile on her face as she felt her belly push down with the release of this ungodly smelly fart. The aroma filling up the living room was livid, filled with intense dosages of sulfur that made up the stinkiest of fart smells. For my sister though it was sadly a very pedestrian fart, stinking up the entire living room in seconds and soon finding its way around most of the house. Jennie had a farting problem, a MAJOR FARTING PROBLEM! The smell in our house was dreadful, reeking of the most pungent, puke-inducing and garbage-stinking gas ever conceived by man, or a woman in this case. It is in fact the absolute truth that my sister has the deadliest farts ever! The aroma is distinct, it’s garbage-smelling, a mixture of eggs and shit plus some really potent chemicals, and the aroma is constant and it seems that of all the people in the world, only she is capable of producing it. As for the power and sound of her farts, she rips cord with the best of them. At the dinner table, in line at the store, in the car, at school, wherever she damn well pleases, she’ll let er rip, it’s no holds barred. My sister is the best farter in the world, and being her slave it’s hard to avoid the amazing power of Jennie cutting some seriously smelly cheese. Her powerful gas is all the byproduct of her having two and a half stomachs, that’s right two and a half. Actually it’s more two normal-sized stomachs and one small sized one. Something happened with my mother when she was pregnant with Jennie and my sister developed this defect. Whatever it was, she came out with a digestive system that was beyond comprehension by most people. Which is why she eats a ton, far more than she even needs to. Her metabolism is super high, off the charts actually, so she would need to eat a lot to maintain. It was only a shame that she was not the most active girl so all that energy goes to waste against someone who might stay home more often. In any case, she releases her energy the only way she can, by farting. “Well that was cool. Jeremy bet me that I couldn’t eat ten bean burritos at Taco Bell.” Jennie said as the smell of truly toxic flatus continued to fill the living room. “Did you?” Mother asked. “Nope. I ate twenty.” She said as she casually pushed out another couple of short wet farts as she walked into the kitchen, I followed her in the wave of her gaseous fog. PPhhhbbbbrrttttt!!!! BBBBooorrrpppptt!!!!! Inside the kitchen Jennie walked over to the counter and opened up the counter to pull out a family-sized can of baked beans. She took the can over to the can-opener, which had seen great usage over the years and began to open the can, filling the kitchen briefly with the smell of baked beans. I went into the refrigerator to take out the glass of protein shake that I had made for her. PPPPPPPhhhhhooooooooooorrrrrrrrrttttttttttttt!!!!! Another long wet fart went out from her as she looked and saw that I was setting the table for her, laying down a bowl and placing the glass there next for her. She took the can and poured the contents of the beans into it, and threw the can away; making the sound of aluminum hitting aluminum, as you see this was the third can of beans she had eaten today. My sister loved baked beans more than absolutely anything in the world and on top of all of that, she ate like there was no tomorrow. You wouldn’t have known that with her frame, she had a modest weight, good sized arms and legs and a small belly but not fat in any way. She had an incredible metabolism that gave her an appetite that would impress just about anyone. I’m convinced that it’s the same thing that Joey Chestnut has when he wins those hot dog eating contests. Only with my sister it’s beans, lots and lots of beans. There’s a whole cabinet filled with them, the same kind of brand, the same amount. On average she eats five cans a day, on really good days she’ll eat eight. And all of those beans, a byproduct of her being a picky eater years ago, has fueled her farts into the kind of explosive power that should be feared by all around the world today. She doesn’t even need the beans to fuel her gas anymore; they just add more kindling to the fire. Of course she does eat other food items as well, she just eats a lot and uses the bathroom one time each evening and when that time comes you do not come anywhere near the bathroom for the next hour. A girl like Jennie using the bathroom with her rambunctious diet is quite possibly the worst place for any human on the planet when she’s taking a crap. And I’m with her a lot in there, the things I do for my master. On top of all of that, I’ve got her addicted to protein shakes, of a chocolate variety. Naturally there was been a dramatic uptick in my sister’s gassiness since getting her started on them, but since she doesn’t work out a whole lot there had to be something to build some of her muscles. We all need a master who’s strong. Her lack of social contact is on display at the table as she sits there eating the beans and drinking the shake in silence, well except for the farting. PPPPPhhhhhooorrrpppppttttttttt!!!!! Like clockwork, she lifts a cheek and pushes out a quick dirty fart onto the wooden seat. I stand back there against the sink as I watch over her, she’s fine with it thankfully and I get to enjoy more of her gas. On a night like today she’ll likely eat two more cans of beans and with all that Taco Bell in her, you have a good idea for how volatile her bowels would be. Naturally I am a lover of my sister’s farts. This may take some time to get used to and explain but for as long as I could start smelling and appreciating them I have been an admirer of my Jennie’s flatulence. What was once a girl’s love of beans and her developing digestive system has turned her into a world-class farter and more there’s no stopping the wheels from turning a typical night with my sister into an orchestra of the greatest rips of ass ever. But there was another reason I was in here. It was just in case, of what you may ask?” “I gotta fart.” She asked. And like a dog I fell onto my knees and nestled my nose right by her jean-cladded ass. Already it stunk of her nasty gas, she was about to triple the potency. PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppppppppppppppppppbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!! All her farts before, those weren’t farts. This was a true fart, a real Jennie fart. This one could be heard throughout the house, it shook the chair, it even shook the floor from which I was seated, this was the baked beans coming together with the Taco Bell to fuel my sister with some larger blasts of gas. My sister released house-rattling farts daily, it was just part of her and we knew there was no upsetting the balance, this was almost one of those, it was at the very least kitchen-rattling, a thundering fart against the seat that pushed forth a supercharged stream of hot and putrid smelling my gas straight into my nose. I did my part and smelled it all up. One breath after another, I inhaled and sucked in the powerfully stinky wind out of my sister’s back door, and it was glorious and in copious amounts, she may be 17 years old but her farts are quite literally the strongest in the world by a human being and the second ranked person couldn’t possibly hold a candle to her. Medical doctors themselves couldn’t figure out what made her fart so bad, though the five bean can a meal diet was certainly a culprit. Smelling a fart from my sister, especially a long 13-second long one is not just a mere task, it’s an obligation, a calling that comes with it great risk and great rewards. The risks, I could pass out from the smell of the fart, happened to me plenty of times. I could also get sick, inhaling all that exposed methane and sulfur on a daily basis was actually not as good as you would have imagined, the quantity she releases daily was off the charts. But there was also the rewards; I was smelling her farts, all the time, a service to the greatest person to ever walk the planet. I looked back after she had finished the earthquake-sounding flatulent toot and saw the back of her hair move around. She was still your normal girl, eating her beans and drinking her protein shake. She went back to eating her food while farting again like clockwork; I timed it to once every one-and-a-half minutes. Almost perfectly, the girl had a farting repetition that was legendary as the pungent aroma that filled up the kitchen, it reeked heavily of her gaseous aroma and to the two of us it seemed like nothing. Jennie was so used to her smelly farts that she often forgot the impacts it had on others when she let one toot in public. Sending people to the hospital from her farts was something that didn’t register as clearly on the mind of someone who wasn’t always worried about others. She did lack a bit of regard for others, not out of malice for others but just because her brain wasn’t wired to think about it. Finally she was finished with her bowl of beans and her shake. “How was your meal?” I asked her. She responded with a flat ass against the seat style of fart that created a deepening echo like noise in the room. PPPPPPhhhhhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllllllllllllllllppppppppppppppppptttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!! The fart was being squished as she sat there squarely seated in her chair. That was the cool part of her. There was no emotion, she just sat there and pushed out the fart, with another fiery dosage of her wicked foul-smelling sulfur coming out and stinking up the room. It was such a nasty fart with little regard from her about how it was. She got up from her seat and left her bowl and glass there, she expected me to wash them. And with no word about her last fart she went back to her bedroom, she expected me to be there soon as I grabbed the dishes and quickly washed the bean juice out of the bowl and cleaned the glass. I walked over to the place where she was seated and grabbed a quick whiff of her seat. It smelled horribly like brunt wood and rotten eggs, but that was expected after seating the ass of a sup
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