Queef. A fanny fart. An odourless escaping of gas from your cunt.
Bubbles of lemonade flavoured laughter gurgled inside Mary's chest. It was rude to laugh at fanny farts, and in her stifled reflection, she pondered if it was more rude to laugh at queefs with a new partner or an old one. With an old one there was a certain level of relaxation, where it was ok to accept what was a normal side effect of vigorous sex. Nostrils flaring, stomach tightening, no longer was there any thought of her clitoris or impending orgasm. She buried her head in his neck in an attempt to hide her amusement at the current state of affairs.
Jamie carried on his activities, oblivious of the impending explosion of hilarity. He carried on shoving; bumping and grinding his hips, lost in his moment but not hers. His thrusting was reminiscent to shelf stacking in budget super markets. 'Pile them high and sell them cheap'. Heaving and thrusting more and more external atmosphere into the soft vacuum of her sex, you could get no more air into it. It was going to detonate.
A small bugling sound emerged at first. This was accompanied by a stifled whimper of a giggle and mortification. Embarrassment spread over her face, all warm and red like a freshly spanked bottom. Jamie, paid no attention to it. Determinedly he carried on making great strides towards his orgasm, he was going to reach it regardless of distractions such a strange noises or a giggling woman.
A rasp. A long and protracted note of the escaping queef. It went on for an aeon. If it were to happen in a public place it would be the type of fart that you would be proud of. It had resonance and depth. It had personality to it. It had gravitas.
Unable to keep her laughter prisoner behind the ivory bars of her teeth Mary set it free. Relishing its' new found freedom, her laugh resounded and bounced around the bedroom. Jamie gave her a look of disgust as his moment was broken, meanwhile Mary slapped her hands over her eyes as her moment was released.
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