The Springston Fart Club Ch. 01

This chapter contains: Subtextual Flatulence, Ass Fetish, Voyeurism, Mooning, Erections, Tight Pants, Loose Skirts, A Buttload of Dialogue--and small doses of French :)

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"What beauty lie beyond that nook?"

1

The five o'clock afternoon sky presented itself as a smoky lavendar canvas with amber white clouds smothered all over. Underneath the clouds lay Springston, a small town wedged between the city of Caramat and its bustling skyscrapers to the east and the hills of Aspen and its forest of evergreenery to the west. Naturally, the side closest to the city tended to be busier and the side facing the hills basked in serenity. Today was one such serene Saturday.

Springston high wound up their afternoon classes and small crowds of students poured out of the premises. Most of the rowdy bunch headed for the park, looking to celebrate a weekend with a basketball game, the rest chatted their way to the closest bus stand or walked to their homes. Empty cafes soon filled up with teenage banter as the town pulsed with evening life.

The less occupied hillside on the other hand, was used to its fair share of tranquillity. Anyone walking by could relish in the shade of the trees and leisurely pluck out from their low hanging branches a myriad of colorful flowers. The warble of the nightingales served to comfort the ears and waves of gentle winds sheltered everyone from the summer heat. However, at present the peaceful ambience was undermined by footsteps, in pairs of three.

They hailed from the direction of the highschool, and they were running abnormally fast along the roads that lead uphill. Three girls, lagging twice a dozen yards behind one another yet dashing furiously in the same direction. Their hair thrashed in the wind, their schoolbags flapped behind them, their arms swung about madly, their faces were streaked with sweat--from scalp to chin--and their mouths were wide open, gasping desperately for breath. Their pace faltered as they pushed themselves uphill but they never stopped running. Their bumbling bodies conveyed a dreadful notion that they might die if they took another step but from the serious determination printed on their face, it was apparent that they might die if they didn't. They made it uphill and crossed the road one by one by one before turning the corner.

2

A few yards ahead, a small crew of three teenagers gathered together under the shade of one of the trees. The shortest and the fattest of them was Timothy Hudson, known locally as Timothy the redhead, even more locally as 'Tim'. Tim was leaning against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his yellow Al Pacino T-shirt. The oversized chino shorts he wore stretched to his calves. He seemed to be either staring sharply at his crocs or lost in deep thought. He always occupied the scowl of a grumpy curmudgeon, which made the 18 year old chap look decades wiser, albeit unintentionally. Wearing specs gave him the added benefit of resembling a scottish Walter White.

Sitting on top of the wall above Tim was Denny. Denny Clark was known much better by the nickname "Denny the Denim" for his obsession with jeans. His wardrobe consisted entirely of blue jeans and even bluer denim jackets. His hair was scruffy enough to be attractive and he had sharp jaws clouded by a faint stubble. Few knew what his eyes were made of, as he sheltered them underneath his round rimless shades. From a distance he looked like a gas station worker but up close, he emanated the charm of a Levi's model. He held his samsung in one palm as he casually browsed pornhub, poking Tim's short hair with his feet while he waited for a video to buffer through.

"What-What are you-no.Piss off" muttered Tim, who felt agitated after being dislodged from his meditation.

"Hey Tim."

"What?"

"You know what I hate about porn these days?"

"Ah...Alright Denny, let me guess, Not enough jeanbabes for you?"

"'Not enough jeanbabes'. I have always had that problem with porn." He said, scratching his head in frustration.

"Ah...Alright Denny, let me guess then, Not enough Kelsey's Obsession for you?"

"Nah, I figure fetishes are meant to be taboo. That's why they exist. I'm talking about a trend that's taking over the mainstream like a wildfire....I'm talking about exaggerated video titles."

"What about them?"

"Don't they get annoying after some point? They used to be subtle as far back as I can remember."

"Subtle how?"

"Well most of them, most of the good ones I remember were titled something like 'Beth's night off' or 'The neighbour next door' or 'My favorite pizza delivery boy' or 'Roxanne's lustful morning' or 'Tasha the tutor', that was a good one. Nowadays one in every two videos I come across is uhh....let's put it this way: titled to the extreme. I mean check this out." He turned the phone towards Tim. The screen was just bright enough against the glare of the sun for the words to be legible.

"adorable tiffany richards rides dildo. . .WHILE GETTING POUNDED IN THE ASS BY BIG BLACK MONSTER COCK." He chuckled at that. He reached out a hand to scroll further along the recommendations.

"'CLAUDIA GETS HER TIGHT PUSSY DESTROYED BY HARD MASSIVE DICK' oh boy."

"'little red riding hood HAS HER ASS DRILLED IN [buttfuck Cosplay]' Real subtle"

". . . . . . This one is just 'FUCKING REDHEAD BITCH CUM ASS PUSSY VIRGIN'"

"I know right?"

"I feel like hardcore porn has always been a thing though."

"It's not the porn that's hardcore, just the titles. I mean where's the foreplay? Where's the cuteness? Don't just scream at me when I'm looking to bust a nut."

"Denny" said Tim, with his mouth half agape. "Did you just invent the 11th commandment?"

"Shut up. All I'm saying is there's beauty in subtlety and It does good to leave some things to the imagination."

"Why are you watching porn if you want things left to the imagination?" said Freddy.

"Oh shit." exclaimed Tim while rubbing his hands together for the impending monologue.

Freddy was lying down on a nearby bench, smearing the seat corner with the sticky pomade of his dark slicked-back hair. A palm sized book covered the top of his head, revealing only his mouth. He wore a full sleeve floral flannel on top of which rested a handful of the leaves from the tree above. He rested one hand deep in the pocket of his jet black corduroy pants and used the other to pinch the bridge of his nose, unwittingly squeezing the spine of the book, which had a flat green cover with two words printed on both faces: 'L'érotique d'Emmanuelle'

"Huh?" said Denny, again scratching his head.

"Freddy the frenchman here doesn't watch põrn." said Tim while fixing up his glasses. Freddy grinned at the moniker.

"I didn't know you were some kind of teenage hermit Fred."

"Je trais ma vache more than you chargez votre batterie." He muttered under his breath.

"Whuh?"

"I said I milk my cow more times a day than you charge your battery. But I don't do it by watching porn Denny. I do it by reading eroticas. Those who have imagination and want poetry go to the bookcase to get their deeds done. The rest hunch over the loo and watch passionless nonsense scripted by incompetent studios. I'm saying it here and I'm saying it now and hopefully I'm saying it for the last time: porn is for imbéciles, erotica is for men."

He took his book--unearthing his deep blue eyes in the process--and rested it on his chest. He then sank both of his hands into his pant pockets, seemingly to sift for a cigarette. After a few moments, he pulled out a silver lighter with his left and an empty cigarette pack with his right, which he scrunched into a ball and tossed into the wind.

"Want a cigar for your lighter, Monsieur?" asked Tim, pulling out a black camel pack from his shorts.

"Oui"

"I second that oui." said Denny and they all smoked a camel.

After taking a puff, Denny retorted with a witty smile, "Alright you weird gatekeeper, since you don't watch porn, I take it you don't know what a good cooch looks like?"

"Weirdly enough I do know what a good cooch looks like, I did get to erotica through porno mags. Playboys, Triple Xs and Buttlusts have kept me company over the years but now I find words to be more comforting than pictures."

"Well my dear Fred, ever heard of the phrase 'A picture is worth a thousand words?'"

Freddy snapped his fingers in response. "Hey now. The book is better than the movie."

"That depends on how well the movie's directed."

"That depends on a lot of things Denny. That depends on how the models look and act, which depends on the quality of their dialogue. That depends on whether you can hear the cameraman breathing in the background or not. That depends on how frequently they angle the camera into the guy's butthole instead of the girl's body. That depends on whether the guy has a human sized member or a 12 inch elephant cock under his pants. That depends on whether the girl is really moaning or faking it. That depends on whether they're fucking like human beings or fucking like epileptics who just saw a flashing rainbow."

"I hear you Fred." said Tim. "You're saying you love guys with 12 inch elephant cocks."

Fred squinted at him and shook his head.

"Wel-" began Denny, but was cut short by the rest of his monologue.

"Listen. At the end of the day, those who get it right are those who care about what they make instead of the money they get for making it. Talented porn directors are one in a million and so is good porn. If poorly made pornos didn't make me want to punch the screen in embarassment, I'd own a pornhub account. Hell I'd even pay for premium. But they make my fucking blood boil. It doesn't matter how big her ass is if she's going to spit in your face and say things like 'you like that you fucking retard?'"

"What about poorly made eroticas though?" offered an annoyed Denny. "I mean I haven't read one in my life but I'm sure there are bad writers."

"You're right, there are bad writers. But there are far less bad eroticas than there are bad pornos. Since any monkey can turn on a camera and dance in front of it, pornos are much easier to make. I bet there are a million new videos coming out every day, and I also bet we have enough porn that if we stopped making them altogether, no one would suspect it for a few years. The point is, as the number of pornos get larger and larger, the quality dilutes. The good ones are few and far between and it takes a shitload of effort to find them." He stopped to take a deep whiff from his cigarette and let the smoke gently breeze out of his nose and mouth before dropping off the ashes with two flicks of a finger.

"I guess." Said Denny before taking a drag himself.

"You guess but I know. Tim, how many pornhub pages did you skim through last night before you found the one to beat your meat to?"

"I don't know" Tim shrugged "uh 20? 30? Probably close to 30."

"30 pages Denny" Fred said, pointing an extended finger at Tim. "This is what a man has to do to wank off in the 21st cenutry. 30 pages. This is why rich assholes pay for porn and even richer assholes pay for pornstar commissions. So they can get porn the way they want it. But other people prefer to read and write literature. Since writing takes some skill, only the people that are good at it join the community, which is niche by nature. The bad ones don't last, Alright? and-"

"Alright, Alright Fred. Fair enough. Okay? Hey. One part edgy. Two parts pretentious. But fair enough."

"I'm just saying" he said, now with an ear to ear grin "I've been reading smut for a few years now, and I have never come across any books called 'FUCKING REDHEAD BITCH CUM ASS PUSSY VIRGIN'.....and I'm glad for that. Maybe you'll be too."

"Nah. There are problems with porn, sure, but all things considered I still prefer watching real sex over....reading."

"First of all I wouldn't call porn "real sex". Secondly there's nothing sexier than the woman in your dreams Denny. When you read a good book, you just can't help but open your mind and let her in. Let her drive you crazy from the inside out."

After a short pause he continued, "Maybe I'll write a book soon, show you what this whole thing is about."

Both Tim and Denny chuckled on cue, almost choking on their smoke.

"Hey, I was being serious." Fred said while slapping away the leaves on his shirt.

"Alright. Tim, what do you make of this?" asked Denny. "Are you a smut man or a porn man?"

"I like fanfiction but fanfiction doesn't like me. I haven't read anything in a long time."

"You just haven't read the right stuff." said Fred.

"Yeah but you can say that about anything." replied Tim. Denny was about to say something, but at the last second he averted his gaze to the left corner of the street. He could hear incoming footsteps. He didn't have to wait long for the girl to step into his vision.

3

He heard distant shrieks and after a few moments, a figure popped into view, made obscure by the dark tint of Denny's shades. Whoever it was was storming towards him. After a few more moments, he could make out long strands of hair thrashing behind this person, who was clearly a girl. By now Tim could spot the source of the footsteps thundering in their direction. Fred could hear them as well but couldn't see past his own smoke.

The girl leading the line was Annie Ford. The moment her sharp features became visible, time seemed to slow down for Tim and Denny. "An absolute heartbreaker from head to toe," thought both of them in unison. Her shiny black hair flittered about in the wind. A few strands stuck to her fair skinned face, which was lined--from temple to jaw--with small sparkling beads of sweat, some of them getting in her diamond grey eyes, causing her to tighten her squint and some of them rolling off her chin into her clothes. Her pink lips quivered as she took short puffs of breath in between strides. Denny found her moist and hollow cheeks to be insanely sexy, but did not regard her attire with the same courtesy. She was wearing white leggings paired with a thin white sweater that did nothing to hide her perspiration. "not the most fitting top to be wearing in the summer" he thought. "even more so when running." Tim on the other hand found her all the more beautiful for it. The sweat that darkened her clothes also reflected the evening sunset off of her dazzling face.

Keeping to her unchanging pace, she ran past the trio on the sidewalk without sparing so much as a glance. Her eyes were glued to the road ahead of her. The trio on the other hand, had their eyes glued to her physique. They were met with a lustful surprise as she dashed past them. They realized--now that they could see her up close and from behind--that her body was as voluptuous as her face was beautiful. Her sweatshirt bobbed up and down, revealing a flat stomach, a narrow waist and broad swaying hips. Her white leggings sagged just enough to reveal the waistband of what seemed to be a pink satin panty. From the toe up, a pair of black walking shoes leaped back and forth, a pair of fleshy thighs jumped up and down, merging at the rear to form her butt. Tim felt his shorts tighten as he saw her hindquarters undulating in her tighty white leggings. They looked painted on. With every step she took, her hips swayed gently, causing her ass to jiggle. The wide crease between her butt and thighs folded and straightened as she ran. A few seconds later, she turned the corner and went her way.

"Woah" said Fred as he woke up from the bench a little too late. "Who was that?"

"No idea. But did you see her ass though?" said Denny, now staring off into the road where they saw the last of her.

"I think that might be the roundest butt I have ever seen with my own two eyes." said Tim, joining Denny as they both stared off into the sunset.

"This better not be a weird joke." said Fred, wondering what it was that he missed. They paid no attention to him.

"What a beauty."

"Oh well. When life gives you lemons. In this case, two of them." said Denny after jumping down from the wall.

Fred laid back on the bench and opened his book in front of them. There were two erect cocks around him, might as well make it a third. He was shuffling through the pages to find the bookmark when all of a sudden he saw another figure appearing from the very place he heard the previous footsteps.

"Mes ami. Guys, look."

They turned their heads around to look at the next girl. Her name was Gabby Barnes.

"An-!" "Annie!" she screamed into the wind in between desperate gasps.

She was blonde. Taller and slimmer than the first. Her figure--draped in a tight grey sweater and pale grey skinny jeans--presented its smaller details as she got closer and closer. Streaks of blonde hair were swaying madly in the wind. She ran slower than Annie as she took the time to ward away strands of golden hair that kept crossing her eyes. Her black round-neck sweater was thicker and absorbed most of her perspiration, but it was shorter so it had no choice but to show skin all the way to her navel as she bounced on her feet. The black boots that stretched to her jean-clad knees made her look even more ravishing.

(Save for his mother and father, there was not a lot of people who knew what Denny's eyes looked like as he instinctively kept them contained inside his shades, like sodium in paraffin oil. Tim thought he was half-blind or had a glass eye. Freddy thought his shades were less symbolic of a religious fashion statement and more likely to be prescription specs for treating an eye-defect. They had not known each other for long but by now both of them had surmised that Denny would be the kind of guy who went to sleep wearing his glasses. But they had no idea that today would be the day that an itch of curiosity buried deep in their minds would finally be scratched to oblivion). For today Denny saw something that made him take off his shades. Denny saw a goddess.

Time slowed to a crawl yet again, for all three of them this time. The sunlit surroundings immediately pierced Denny's vision as he took off his shades, revealing his chocolate brown eyes. He squinted to a slit at first, and slowly widened his view. She looked like a bright shining angel, radiating a heavenly glow. An absolute eye candy. In fact she was so beautiful that he was convinced looking at her might have spawned a couple of metaphorical caterpillars ready to sprout wings inside his stomach. Her eyes were sapphire blue with a tinge of red, souvenir of a shimmering ocean. A single bead of sweat rolled down her straight nose and splashed into the cupid's bow of her luscious pink lips. She had a pair of sexy cheek dimples. "As if you weren't hot enough." he thought, as he put out his cigarette. Her eyes looked tired. From the sound of her voice earlier, she seemed dry on the inside and wet on the outside. Though her clothes didn't show it, Tim liked to imagine her body was swathed in waves of sweat, that she was stretching and tightening herself while trapped against a layer of her own ever-spreading wetness.

Unlike Annie, she did not ignore them. On the contrary, it looked like she was about to fall straight into Denny's arms out of exhaustion, but managed to pull herself together at the last second. She decided to stop running for the first time since she started and came to a halt next to the boys. She put her hands on her knees and bent over at the waist. She savoured the first few moments of rest to take in as many breaths as she could. When the fire in her lungs was finally tamed, she looked to Denny and began to speak.

"Do you guys-" "-have any water?" She asked, hoping for a miracle but already knowing the answer from the looks on their faces.

"Uhh nope sorry." said Tim. In one breath. While standing behind the tree. Hiding his erection.