I have a fetish for listening to women take nasty gassy dumps; not scat, just the sound. It’s their shuffling feet, trying to judge what their gait looks like, their shoes, their body – finer details in the noise if you are a deep listener – then you get the nice thump sound of their ass slamming the seat, summoning a faint detection of the bowl’s shape and the plump rump wrapping itself sensually around it — and then the sublime interval – neither too long or short, before they relax and unleash an unladylike, cathartic avalanche of waste. If you’re lucky, you can hear them moan or sigh, their voice can be arousing as a clearer image of a cute face can emerge in your mind; an obscure stripe of innocence, beauty, or cuteness, found curiously not in the alert light of the streets, but a quiet bathroom, beautifully contrasted by gross flatulence which they cannot control through any capacity of will power. A ripe opportunity to revel in natural imperfection of a beautiful woman, of whom her midst is without you in any dimension – but now you may for a moment experience stark intimacy, without damage or embarrassment for either of you, and without the prolonged ache of a real relationship. Tell me, can another fetish provide as much sensory feedback and information for your mind to crunch down on? I thought not.