#facefart

...just some more hands on experience, nothing to see here..

Purple One is owned by me!

The other is female Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls

The interview room was tiny and the heat had been broken so the sweat was running down Jason's back giving him an epic case of swamp ass.

"So what's it like to be a football center?" You ask him. You can see his disappointment. "I bet everyone asks you that. Don't they?"

He shifts in his seat "Everyone. In every interview ever asks me that. You can be creative" he says back.

"Alright. What's the worst thing about being a center? No no, what's the worst think about being interviewed as a center?"

He smiled. "Easy. It's the same for both"

You drank some of the complimentary water.

"It's trying not to fart"

You nearly choked, but you didn't want to spit all over Jason Kelce. "What's that?" You say after swallowing hard

"Farting. Ripping Ass. Beefing. I'm a big guy. Takes alot of fuel to keep this body going. Any given moment I have to cut one."

"Well that—"

"Big ones. Like dragons roar size."

"That—"

"Were talking the Hulk just ate a spoiled sour cream truck, and now he's trying to time his ass blasts with Thor's thunder so no one knows he's dropping gamma bombs"

You waited to respond. The silence was madness. You both began to laugh.

"You had me going there for a second" you said.

"Oh I wasn't kidding. My ass is the deadliest thing in the room." He looked around. "Move that chair. Your the last interviewer, so I'll give you a chance at something most sane people would decline"

After a few moments if moving things around, there was just enough room for Kelce to get into a proper stance. When he got up you could see the sea if sweat in his seat.

"You can probably smell it now that I'm up. I hate that they make us wear our gear for these things. They hardly ever get a good wash." He gave his ass a slap. The sweat rained between his legs. "Go on, no shotgunning it. Get in and see what I mean"

You got behind him. Leaning your head in you could feel the atmosphere change. It was like dipping your head in the ocean; only instead of cool water it was raw unadulterated man ass. It was musky, and sour. Dark and rich, yet heady like a skunky beer. Time had no meaning here. Your head was lost in a new realm. It was a realm of filth and stench, of heat and flesh. You were both repulsed to the point of puking, and oddly captivated to keep smelling, to see just how each new whiff was worst than the last.

You snapped back to reality when you heard Kelce call out. "You ok?"

You coughed, and fanned for fresh air. "Yeah. Ugh. Maybe. No one's going to believe that lived through one of Jason Kelce's farts"

"No you didn't" he said.

"What?"

"I haven't farted yet."

"But that reek."

"Yeah that's just what four hours of me sitting in my gear smells like. That was just the pre show. Here's the main event." Suddenly, Kelce shot backwards. For such a hefty man he moved so fast. Your head was pinned to the wall. Kelce wet ass oozed over you like stinking bread dough. "Here..."

You muffled in protest, but as soon as you opened your mouth the ass flooded in.

"It..."

You could feel his ass quiver in anticipation. He had been holding this in all day and was going to enjoy every second of it.

"Rips"

Kelce's guts let fly. He was beast. A monster. A long, yet low and slow bass note of growling gas pumped from his rump. His feet curled and his right eye drooped in pleasure. A steady stream of drool leaked down his bearded, caveman like face. When you hold it this long, letting it out is almost better than sex.

As the beefer slapped you in the face you struggled to get out of the wet crack of his ass. Much to your dismay, you only resulted in wedging your nose into Kelce's blast zone. His fart forced it's way into your nose. Such a powerhouse was it that you could feel your sinuses pressurize, and your eyes bulged as the excess gas escaped through your tear ducts. Your mouth, oh God, your mouth. You kept your lunges closed but that didn't save your tongue from tasting the toxic mélange of his ass. You could feel the stench touch your brain and burn the back of your eyes. Reality was fading. You swore you heard Kelce laughing a great belly laugh. Your mind was flooded with images of putrid swamps filled with dead trees, bogs of bubbling filth and sludge as far as the eye could see, and stenches — oh so many stenches— a brown rainbow of smells and tastes to revolt the senses. Jason Kelce sat as God upon this land. He loomed high over the swamps, enshrouded in a toxic miasma of his own stench, sitting on a throne of shit, steaming in the caustic bog. He gazed his eyes down upon your suffering. He laughed. He laughed and clouds of bloat flies flew from his mouth and blotted out the sky, as rancid slime poured down the corners of his mouth into his filthy beard.

"Yo" you heard his voice and the sound of snapping fingers. "Hello? Come on."

Your vision was coming into focus. You could see Kelce standing above you. You were in the interview room, twitching on the floor. Your mouth foamed.

"What year is it?" You asked weakly.

Kelce smiled wide. "Now you know why I try not to fart in here."

"Is this real? Is this the bog if eternal stench?"

He leaned in closed. "... Did you see me on the shit throne there?"

You weakly nod..

"I had garlic chorizo last night, sometimes that happens when I eat sausage" he clapped you on the shoulder before lifting you up and setting you back in the chair.