Hello My name is Dave. I live in Baltimore City. On a family vacation a few years back to Dewey Beach Delaware, myself, my brothers, sister, and a few cousins went to a local establishment (I can't remember the name) to have a few beers and some chicken wings. You need to know that my family has an obsession with farting. We have held farting competitions on summer vacations past with fart charts to keep tally of the farts. Each fart was marked on the chart with a gold star. Back to the story.

As the night progressed we began farting for each other. Everyone was getting a good laugh. I think I had a few to many chicken wings, pushed one out, and left something extra in my pants. I began to sweat immediately. To compound the situation I was not wearing underwear and had a pair of white shorts on. My cousin Jenny immediately came to my assistance. We were sitting outside at a picnic table and by this time at night the bar had become very crowded. Our plan to get me to the bathroom was that Jenny would stand behind me with her are around me and follow me closely to the bathroom. Not to close, I'm sure you understand why. I had left in my shorts what looked like a dark brown buckshot.

We got through the bar, and to the bathroom. I felt some relief, but then it got worse. I went into the bathroom and it was the size of a closet. All there was was a urinal and about 2 feet to the left of it a toilet. No partition separating the two. Worse the door had no lock. I said screw it took of my pants, with nothing on underneath, sat on the toilet and began cleaning the crap out of my shorts. As I sat there cleaning a few other guys came into the bathroom and used the urinal as I sat on the toilet. Only one said anything to me. He asked if I had ate the wings. After I had cleaned and dryed my pants I went back into the bar and stayed the rest of the night. Every once in a while I would see a couple people talking, looking at me and laughing. What you gonna do. I am looking forward to reading some of the other stories submitted. Misery likes company.

Sincerely,
Dave in Baltimore

ok i was at a pinic and they were having hot sausage there to eat. i love hot sausage so i took a bite of it and it wasn't really that hot. so kept eating it. then i guess i bit into like a really hot seed and i was so i hot that i couldn't taste anything till the next day. i started to shove a whole bunch of fries in my mouth but nothing could get the hot out. so the next day when i went to take a crap and it was all runny so my butt started to hurt. well it wasn't nothing that i couldn't handle. So i went to wipe my butt and i got a little poop on my fingers. Well then all the sudden my whole finger started to burn. i hurried up and finished. So i spent about a half an hour washing my hands. they were red i washed them so much. but after i was done there was still a little tingle. But i thought that i could live with it so later on i was watching tv and my eye started to itch and forgetting which finger got poop on it i rubbed my eye with the same finger that got poop on it and so my eye started to burn. it burned for a good 20 minutes. thats my story and my email is ...

Anonymous

Here is my most embarrassing farting story: When I was in college, my boyfriend, my friend Kelly and her boyfriend went to visit my boyfriend's parents for the weekend. That Saturday night, his parents took the four of us and my boyfriend's brother out for a night of dinner, bowling and dessert. We went to Friendly's Ice Cream shop as the last stop of our evening. While I love ice cream, I am also lactose intolerant.

After we finished our dessert, all 7 of us headed for the car to pile in. But first, Kelly's boyfriend wanted to hear my horse "nay" impression, which is quite loud. So, her boyfriend and I stood outside the car while the other 5 piled in so I could do my very loud impression of a horse nay. When I got into the car, I had to sit on my boyfriend's lap because there was not much room for 7 butts in a 5 person car. As I sat on his lap, he said to me, "Little girl, you sound like a horse!", to which I replied, "And I fart like one too!". As soon as I said that, I meant to just let loose a little fart to bubble on his lap But as farts go, you really can't control your gas and it came out full force... It was so loud and stinky that 2 seconds after I let her rip, my boyfriend's father who was driving, let out a gasp and rolled down his window. That was quickly followed by a squeal from his mother and a prompt roll down of her window, which was again followed by gasps and gulps for fresh air by the other passengers in the car.

As soon as the stink cleared, accusations and rebuffs came from my boyfriend's parents aimed at my boyfriend. They blamed him for passing the foulest stink. To defend himself, he told them it wasn't him--that it was me. They didn't believe him--they didn't believe that such a foul stink could come from a small, cute girl. All the while, Kelly and her boyfriend were cracking up because they knew that I was the culprit. Honestly, it was the foulest stink that ever came from me...and the best part was that I didn't get blamed for it! :)

Jennifer in Chicago

My brother was videotaping me, my sister and my nieces and nephews one day. They were all sitting around watching me and I was singing a song (Mercedes Benz by Janis Joplin) and a little fart escaped me. I giggled and another one slipped out. Then everyone giggled and the farts kept coming. Finally I had to sit down to hold them in. It doesn't seem as funny typing this but the video tape is hysterical! Thank you!

Bridget in Pflugerville

I'd be lying if I said telling this story somehow makes the worst digestive experience of my life seem a distant memory. In fact, with each trip back in time it's all I can do to keep from breaking out into a sympathetic cold, clammy sweat. But enough about hindsight, it's time to delve into a heart wrenchingly painful experience I hope will make you think twice about ever accepting that cheap cafeteria dessert known only as the buttercream bitch. Oh, dear readers, I beg of you, don't follow me down the slippery, slippery path to a world where all pride is lost in a desperate attempt to rid the rectum of what can only be described as a blood bath of streaming brown fluid.

It all began innocently enough. I was with my girlfriend and her parents having dinner at our mountainous campsite's chow hall. Everything was going great-my dinner of fried eggs and hotcakes was definitely above my
expectations for a place called "The Travelers Trough." After dinner, I was relaxing when suddenly time seemed to stop as squeaky wheels could be heard rolling in my direction. I looked up in time to see the glistening metallic
frame of a fully loaded dessert cart waiting for me. One glance at those rich, frosting-filled beauties and I was done for. My fate was sealed as I chose a generous four inch slice of thick chocolate cream pie slathered with a mocha tinged buttercream frosting. Henceforth I will refer to this deadly concoction of trash refuse as the buttercream bitch, or BCB.

My stomach valiantly protested the incoming bits of pure, unadulterated crap with a long, low rumble. Sadly, it was to no avail. It couldn't stop the onslaught of BCB to my ticking time bomb of a body. But before I could polish off the last few bites, the rumbling grew to a fever pitch. It was no longer just rumbling, but intermittent contractions had joined the party as well. They were far apart for now, but getting closer with every twitch of my betraying body.

Suddenly my forehead broke into beads of sweat and streams of perspiration were pouring down my face. My eyes instinctively knew what would be next as they desperately darted from sign to sign, seeking relief in the almighty restroom signal. I gauged the distance in my head and did some quick math: 30 paces to shitter-20 seconds to explosion=all hell is about to break loose.

Quickly, I made an excuse to my fellow diners and stood up to meet my destiny with stall # 2 in the mens room. I hadn't counted on the adjustment in standing, as acid burned at my ass in a heroic attempt to exit my body. It took all my fading strength to keep my failing sphincter in check on the long way to that stall. Luckily, no one was there. I haphazardly barged into the stall, released my trousers and let my ass do the talking as it hit musical notes never before heard. My ass became a machine gun, firing in any and every direction possible, bathing my rear in a torrent of toilet water. My butt was literally bouncing on the seat in an effort to counteract the force of the explosion. I moaned aloud with the sheer agony of the Birth. The pungent aroma of the BCB was now permeating the room. Just as I gave the first courtesy flush, the stall door was forcefully being pushed toward me. Before you could say BCB, my leg had swung forward to slam the stall door shut. In all my rush to release this beast, I had apparently forgotten to lock the stall door. I then furiously Fred Astaire'ed my own rhythm onto the wooden floorboards to leave no doubts that this stall was indeed occupied.

I could feel the next wave of contractions pour over me. The guy was still there, in another stall. I held out for as long as humanly possible, but a loud, prolonged release of gas followed by the unmistakable put put sound of an angry, emptying rectum broke the silence. Needless to say, my shitter compatriot beat a hasty retreat. I was now panting with dehydration and the struggle of birthing this monster. My ass burned from acid that a thousand baby wipes couldn't soothe. Still shaky from my near death experience, I flushed and stood. I was definitely not one hundred percent, but was ready to leave the inner sanctum of stall #2. Never will I forget that moment and no longer will I ignore the rumbling of my gut each and everytime I catch a glimpse or take a whiff of that piece of Devil's pie known only as the Buttercream Bitch. Heed my advice dear readers, if you know what's good for you.

The Buttercream Bitch

I have always been a very conservative girl, especially when it comes to sex. I have been with the same boyfriend for over a year and he was my first. He is older and more experienced and is always trying to get me to try new things. While I really like to please him, I have always rebuffed his attempts to experiment with anything kinky.

One night after a day when he had done some nice things for me, I wanted to surprise him by having anal sex with him. When I told him, he got very excited and went right to putting this plan into action. Before I knew it, he had me bent over and was riding my rectum like there was no tomorrow. I wasn't sure what to expect, but after the initial shock of feeling him rip my tight little ass open, I began to like it.

Then, about ten minutes into our fun, he suddenly thrust extra deep. Well, he must have hit my shit switch or a nerve or something because he triggered my bowels to instantaneously EXPLODE! As lubed and stretched as I was, I sprayed brown shrapnel all over him, myself, the bed and even the wall behind him. The area of devastation was immense. To make it worse, it was HIS apartment!

Needless to say, I was horrified and screamed in terror. When I finally turned around to look at him and survey the damage, he just looked at me with a straight face, picked up one of my brown turdlets and said, "I guess you had pasta salad for lunch."

The cleanup took forever and required lots of 409, carpet cleaner, laundry detergent and air freshener. He never brought it up again until we were reading CQ and saw the contest. I just knew I had to enter. I don't know the moral of this story but it sure was embarrassing!

Blushing in Seattle