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Mom`s Toilet

Date: 10/24/2014, Categories: Anal, Fetish, Author: klammer, Rating: 51, Source: xHamster

nostrils; tears ran down freely from my eyes. "Raaahhh..." I murmured, dry heaving from the putrid smell. Mom shifted and my nose pushed up, bringing my mouth right in axis with mom's butthole. My quivering lips felt the disgusting, wet pulsing of mom's anus through tiny, thin panties. I don't know if she noticed or not. PRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSHHHHH! A popping, loud fart putters out into a silent but deadly blast that almost f***es my head back had it not been for mom's hand on the back of my head. PRRRRUUMMMBBBBPPPPP! Without a moments peace, mom's anus opened up and fired a long, moist fart that suddenly began to rush like a geiser from out the sides of mom's panties. She immediately let go before any of it touched my screaming face. I dropped to the ground with a loud thud, my eyes rolled around wildly as my face still felt farts right in it, as if the ass were still in my face. I shuddered and panted wildly. I felt myself fading, my vision hazy as mom just looked down, admiring. Mom's ass occasionally dripped a thick, brown sludge but she didn't seem to mind. She bent down near me and innocently tussled my hair; "That's my good slave son." She laughed, leaving me to pass out on the kitchen floor. She left the house one day, groceries or something; I went to the computer. I wanted to find help. I looked up "mom torture" but I only found articles; when I added "fart" I got results for fetish stories. Fetish stories?! Who would have a fetish about that?! I was ... panicking; I wanted out. I wanted to be free of this. But could I just call the police? I don't think so. I went to Yahoo! Answers. I wanted to put out a call for help. I explained the situation. "I am a thirteen year old boy who is currently being made to be a toilet by his mother. She's not shit on me yet but it seems like she will soon. I haven't eaten anything yet she says, repeatedly, I'll be eating soon but that never seems to come. Please help me; she stopped taking me to school so I can be hers to use. Can anyone help, please?!" All the responses were jokes or resorted to calling me one of these fart perverts. What was I going to do? I sent out more; more messages, more calls for help but nothing seemed to work. I heard the door open downstairs; I knew I was expected to be there so I shut off the monitor and ran downstairs to meet my mother on my knees as she liked. She held bags and bags of groceries in her hand, she seemed irritated, "Toilet; take these to the kitchen and get more out of the car. Chop chop!" I jumped to my feet and grabbed the bags from her arms; carrying them into the kitchen. When I returned for another load, I saw mom running her fingers through her hair, a bit aloof. I went outside; from her steps, it seemed like she was going upstairs. It took two or three more armfuls to get all the groceries. And then I started to put them away. I heard mom's footsteps coming down the stairs; I figured she'd be proud of me for putting away the groceries without ...