I put out a personal on craigslist in the ‘casual encounters’ section with the title ‘Looking For Girls to Fart On Me’

In the ad I write ‘I am a 26 year old drug and disease free white man named Stan and I am looking for girls to fart on me, all over my body but mostly my face, while wearing tight spandex pants of any color’.

I specify 18-55 as the preferred age range and say that they must shower before hand and I will return the favor.

My dick gets hard as I type out the ad and midway through writing it I start to shiver uncontrollably and my hands go numb and I start to sweat heavily and this might be an acid flashback so I hurry up and finish the ad off by saying ‘you don’t have to touch my dick if you don’t want to but I will not stop you if you try’ then I put Bensonhurst as my location and submit the ad then I get the cigar box from under my futon and take out a small baggie of coke, an AOL free trial CD, my school MetroCard and the hollowed body of a Bic pen that I’ve cut in half then empty out 2 medium sized rails worth of C onto the AOL case and start fixing them up with the metro card and before I snort the first line I check my email and there’s already like 5 responses to my ad, four of which are probably robots, so I rip the rails then click on the first response.

part 1

the table is wooden and wet, smells damp, i sit down with steve and say, “chad, buddy, can i help you out with some of these lines?”
he doesn’t look at me when he responds, “its ketamine, overcooked, cut with molly, coke and fentanyl. i made it all myself, sept for the coke and fentanyl.” he pushes the aol free trial cd case towards me, “wanna go first?”
“uhm, you go first.” just in case it’s poison and he dies.
“that’s a nice thought.”
“fuck you, stay out of my mind. and at least i’m being honest with you, which is actually more rare than me caring if you die or not, so yea, you’re right, it is a nice thought.”
stan doesn’t seem to give a shit and blasts down two lines before i even finish talking and i watch him carefully for any signs of overdose. he grunts a couple times, low and guttural, then exhales deep. his eyes roll up, neck muscles give out and his head falls from side to side like a infant as his eyes completely vanish into thin air. his head falls back, almost snaps completely off, and my gut instinct is that he’s dead. i put my finger under his nose to see if i can feel for air, which i do, faintly. steve is wearing a black t shirt, so old and worn that it almost looks grey. i pick up his t shirt, exposing defined abs and chest. my dick starts getting hard. his chest rises and falls with air. i put his shirt down and gently flick him in the dick with my finger. he reacts only slightly and makes a jumble of animal noises.
he seems to be alive. “wellp, good enough for me”.
white hot heat of drug excitement hits my body and i start to sweat profusely so i take off my shirt and throw it away.
human moans fill the dungeon along with sounds of slurping, popping, slapping. it smells like shit, ass, burning plastic, rotten potato stench of dried semen, dirty yeast infected pussy. the lights, almost non-existent, flicker and buzz.
“lets fucking do this,” i say to everyone, no one then take the rolled up dollar bill still clutched in chad’s clammy cold hand, re-roll it tight, and watch a girl across the room, chubby, white, with rashes all over her ass and inner thigh area, as she fucks herself with a large crucifix while bent over doggy. she turns around and we make eye contact but relay absolutely no emotion to each other then i rip down the remaining 10 lines of staves magical medicine.