Swingers Don’t Eat Chili

When you put naked people together embarrassment is bound to arise. Add in drugs and alcohol and it becomes a sure thing. It’s not difficult to foresee what cringe worthy moments might occur when those naked people are a dozen acquaintances or even strangers. We are, after all, shoving someone else’s husband’s babymaker into our cock pocket. 

The most common awkwardness is queefing. It’s nothing but science, it shouldn’t be so mortifying. The guys typically don’t miss a beat. But little kills a good deep pounding for a girl like a loud pfffft on an in thrust. We always feel the need to make a funny comment eluding to the fact that it did NOT come from our naughty hole. The worst is when you actually feel the moment the air is forced in. The dude keeps pounding away, usually from behind, but all you can now think is what goes in must come out. Fuck. Maybe if I squeeze my pussy tighter around his cock the air will stay in. Maybe if he stops trying to touch my tonsils with the tip of his cock the air pocket will stay up by my cervix. Should I turn up the music? Go to the bathroom? For the love of God, please don’t change positions. If it doesn’t slip now, it’s inevitably going to vibrate the entire bed when he flips me over. Why me God, why me?

Even worse than a pussy fart is an actual fart. Again, it happens. From a girl’s perspective though, it’s worse than getting stabbed in the eye. Funny story. A bunch of couples and their kids came over for holiday festivities. Main entree served: chili. Fucking chili. Guess who was in a mad rush to cook and clean and forgot to take their anti-gas medicine? Yep. This girl. All the couples with kids left, our boys went to sleep, we propositioned the childless couple to stay. If I had felt a hint of rumbling before then I never would’ve been on board. Nothing says fuck me like a brewing stink bomb. Four minutes in, he’s notoriously pounding away on me in missionary like the Energizer bunny. Not only did my stomach begin churning and gurgling, but every thrust of his eager cock pushed against the back wall, making it apparent to me that those canals were all too close in proximity. It’s like my rectum was a loosely tied balloon and his cock was a shoe stomping on it repetitively. If you jab it enough times, it’s gonna pop. The air’s gotta go somewhere. Fucking science. It was only twice. They were little and surprisingly odorless. Maybe there is a God.

I learned a few lessons that night. First, take anti-gas medicine. Even if there’s only a remote possibility for play, take two. Second, you will never in your life be as thankful queefing exists than that moment your gastrointestinal tract reminds you that you ate chili in the company of swingers. I played off the “queef” like a champ. High five for me! Lastly and most importantly, dudes don’t care about fart sounds when their dick is inside of your vagina. Energizer bunny came in 5 minutes, exactly one minute after the two itsy bitsy, super girly, barely there faux pas. Pussy is their heaven on earth and a little vibration isn’t going to change that moment of primal bliss.

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