Harry was almost bowled over by the force of the expulsion of intestinal gas shooting out of Jimmy Craktcorn’s puckered bunger. It was a dank, rich,...gaseous, rank and fumy fart. The kind of fart one usually only reads about in old copies of the “New Yorker” or “Vanity Fair” magazine. “Sorry Harry” said Jimmy Craktcorn “That was a real bun shaker. A real one gun salute. A real cheek flapper.”“Damn Jimmy, You really blew me a kiss. You really blasted the ass trumpet. That was a real beefy air. He held her head as her mouth moved over him until he came. When she finished swallowing he woke her up. Why Alyssa was elated when the therapist told her she was finally nearing a breakthrough after all this time. Now she was glad she let him talk her into being hypnotized by him, but she always wondered why she would have such a strange taste in her mouth after their sessions. Laundromat First noticing the stain in her blouse as she sorted her wash, she wondered how it got there. She smelled. More

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