Lesbian Fart Worship

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Lesbian Fart Worship
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2085332-Your-mothers-fart-torture
Rated: 13+ · Interactive · Other · # 2085332
Your mom loves to fart on your face as well as her friends.
Created: May 24th, 2016 at 11:19 pm
Modified: March 27th, 2022 at 8:27 am
Your mom loves to fart on your face as well as her friends. This is an interactive story containing 197 chapters . Each chapter tells part of the story and often ends with multiple choices. Make a choice and move to the next chapter in your story. When you reach a chapter that hasn't been written yet, don't be shy... make an addition!
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2085332-Your-mothers-fart-torture
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Your name is Amy and you are 18 years old. For as long as you were little, your mom enjoyed farting in your face when you did something bad or just for her own amusement. She has even gotten her friends to do it to you, since they do it to their daughters as well.
Jessica is your mom and is 42 years old. She has a really big butt and has terrible gas. She loves to torture you. She loves to throw fart parties for her friends to come over to fart on you.
Becky is your moms friend and is 39. She loves to bounce up and down, slamming her ass on you or her daughters face while farting. What makes it worse is she has a fit, round butt.
Nicole is 39 years old and has horrendous gas. She loves to have you or her daughter kiss her ass and worship it. She also wears short shorts that barely contain her ass.
Elizabeth is 38 years old and has most torturous mind. She is the reason why your mom now knows so many tricks. She has a big butt that always pops out of the leggings she wears.
Kiki is Becky's daughter and is 18 years old. She has bad gas and loves Taco Bell.
Diana is Nicole's daughter and is 18 years old. She loves to be in charge, she has a booty and not afraid to use it.
Jojo is Elizabeth's daughter and is 18 years old. She knows some tricks as well, and has a small, but firm butt and wet farts.
All of the characters can torture Amy and fart on her face, and Amy can fart their face as well. The daughters can team up to fart on the mothers face as well as the mothers can team up to fart on their faces.

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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
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