Farty Bumhole

Ingrid sat bare-arsed on the edge of her bed, mini LED torch at the ready as she faced the full length mirror. Its glass was polished to the point of almost gleaming, with the exception of the three pimple splatter patches at head height. She picked up her legs, knees to ears and peered between them into the mirror, while the rumbling in her guts drew nearer. Suddenly, “bbbwwooarrr!!!” came the loudest master-blaster fart ever to disturb the Richter scale. She angled her torch to the mathematically calculated angle of maximum illumination, expecting to see the uncharted depths of her…

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