I sighed when John, a regular client, requested an afternoon session to ensure I’d had ample time to eat.
‘A 2pm start would allow you to eat eggs, beans, protein bars…’ he’d suggested, along with a laughing emoji. Oh John, what astonishing energy you have.
I wasn’t at all sure I’d be capable of withstanding it. Nonetheless, John and his fart fetish were heading to my house, and cope with it I must.
There had been lengthy discussions over the course of weeks as to how I could be made to fart, for as I had explained to John repeatedly, I wasn’t at all confident I’d be guffing to order.
It’s not a talent I’ve mastered in almost 30 years of sex work. John’s other requests of tying him to the bed, humiliation, breath play and tickling were no problem. John recommended I eat onion bhajis, sage and onion stuffing, and artichokes the night before for best farting effect. I did as I was told. It’s amazing how much of domination is doing as you’re told.
Nonetheless, when John arrived, all bounce and expectation, I let him down spectacularly, over and over, for the entire two hours. Reader, I cannot allow my bowels to relax over a stranger’s face. I simply can’t do it. Everything in me recoils from the prospect.
I had the same problem when a sub asked me to poo in his mouth. Young man, I said, I can’t even poo when there’s someone else in the house, still less when you’re lying underneath me, gob gaping expectantly. It isn’t happening. Go home. Which saddens me, for I am a people pleaser and when a man pays me for any kind of experience I truly strive and struggle to provide it. Some things are just beyond my corporeal self. The mind is willing; the farty flesh weak.
Eproctophilia is a fetish or sexual interest involving flatulence, either hearing, smelling, producing, or being exposed to it. The term comes from Greek: eproktos (flatulence) and philia(fondness). It’s socially forbidden, and taboo can heighten arousal for some; it often overlaps with humiliation and power-exchange fantasies too, symbolising vulnerability and intimacy. I have not been asked to explore this particular fetish before, but many of my pals have, usually with greater success than me. It isn’t an uncommon kink.
In fact, research from adult site Clips4Sale put flatulence-related content among the 10 fastest-growing fetishes of last year, identifying a 38% growth in views in 2025.
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John had been badly bullied at secondary school. On one occasion three 12-year-old girls had held him down and taken turns to fart in his face. Can you imagine anything more vile? John, brilliantly, had taken this moment and allowed it to shape his sexuality. Instead of being traumatised, he allowed himself to be thrilled by what had been done to him. Genius.
I’m told the trauma centre in the brain is close to the area that deals in eroticism. Presumably this is why I’m so often asked for small penis humiliation, and to tell men they’re pathetic beta males, who can never expect to have sex or a girlfriend or a family, but exist only to meet women’s financial needs while being told they’re disgusting and useless. I don’t enjoy it. I much prefer inflicting physical pain to emotional pain. Nonetheless I do admire men’s ability to utilise their trauma thus, and so far it has only been men. No woman has ever asked me to tell her she’s fat and ugly with pendulous tits, destined to remain a spinster. Maybe they’re out there, but they’ve yet to bother me.
I tried not to catch my eye in the mirror while I think about this and bounce obediently on John’s face, nor indeed think about all the hours and years I spent diligently acquiring degrees. Ah, would that I were capable of eroticising my trauma.
‘Don’t worry about it’, said John. ‘Just giggle! Finding it funny is part of the thrill.’ I can giggle to order, thank goodness. Happily John had anticipated my incompetence and supplied a whoopee cushion, so even though I couldn’t deliver the real thing, I could at least provide the noise, if not the aroma. Bounce giggle squeak. Two hours of it. At least my quads were getting a proper workout.
Metro spoke to a eproctophiliac
Raj, spoke with Metro about what he wishes more people knew about the fetish: ‘I want more people to know about eproctophilia in general but especially in the kink community. When I started going out in my local community, I felt energised at first feeling like these are my people but the more time I spent or any time I talked about my fetish and desires, it seems like walls went up even though these are ostensibly communities of acceptance and understanding.
‘What I learned, from my experience, is there’s kinks which are unspoken yet acceptable in these communities (impact play, rope, etc). My desire is to expand that narrow scope of acceptability so kinksters and fetishists of all types can feel like they have a community that’s not just each fetishist keeps to their own kind.’
In the end, John left cheerful, thanking me wholeheartedly for trying. Often a session is as much about being heard and sharing a moment of connection as having a bhaji-scented guff break on your teeth.
He hasn’t booked again, mind.