That was-” he gasped enthusiastically, a languid hand rising to splay across his heaving chest, “-that was bloody fantastic!

“Mmm,” she agreed, the sound little more than a purr in the back of her throat. She rolled over onto her stomach to gaze at him, the sensation of his skin against her soft curves egging her on. A slow, wanton smile crept onto her lips, and she looked up at him through the veil of her eyelashes. “You’re quite good at that, you know,” she told him slyly.

“I know,” he answered with a grin, the fingers on his other hand tracing patterns on the small of her back. She allowed herself a breathy laugh at his audacity; it was so like him to be playfully arrogant at a moment like this. It was one of the reasons she had felt herself slowly-but-surely falling for him. His quiet confidence. The way his eyes brightened when he smiled at her. The easy way his body heat warmed her whenever he was near. He made her heart feel light, her soul like it could fly. It was a tangible, bubbly feeling that filled her whenever she was with–

Oh God.

The ‘bubbly’ feeling was more tangible than she had first thought. And it definitely didn’t feel as though it was originating from anywhere as romantic as her soul. In fact, it was located rather distinctly in her intestinal vicinity.

Oh God, no.

They had only been dating for a few months. Even though she knew how she felt about him, she knew better than to come right out and say it. The ‘L’ word would kill a relationship faster than Mortein would put down Louie the Fly. The only thing worse than the premature declaration of her love for him would be to let one rip on his strategically bought-and-arranged 1000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

But the tummy rumble was insistent. A ‘fluff’ was brewing, and she knew that it was going to be a disaster. She cast her eyes to the bedside table, but there wasn’t anything there that she could distract him with. Her eyes flicked to his face, half scared that he would have psychically cottoned-on to her impending flatulence. She was naked; there was nothing to muffle the noise with. He dozed serenely, his handsome face peppered with two day old stubble. Two days. They should have come up for air sooner. Now she was doomed.

Desperately, her brain jumped back to her Mortein metaphor. She lifted an arm, swiping it through the air.

“Ugh, gross,” she announced, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “There’s a blowie in here. Do you have any fly spray, babe?”

“A blowie?” His eyes popped open, and he lifted his head from the pillow to glance around the room. “That’s weird. Where?”

Where. She hadn’t counted on him actually wanting to see the blasted thing. Why couldn’t he just get up and go fetch the fly spray like a good little sex God?

She swiped at thin air again. “There!”

He frowned slightly. “I don’t see it.” His tone dropped and was suddenly cheeky as he glanced at her breasts. “But you should try and hit it again, just as a precaution.”

She grinned. She couldn’t help herself, really. Even her imminent problem couldn’t distract her from how gorgeous he was. She slapped his arm playfully, and he laughed before moving to capture her wrist in his strong grip. Flashbacks of their sensational sexual encounters came flooding back to her, and she felt a different feeling tug at her below her waist, competing with her need to break wind.

“Wait–” she laughed, trying to clench and keep it in.

But he didn’t wait. He used his hold on her wrist to push her backwards, rolling on top of her. His mouth found the sweet spot on her neck, his lips soothing the sexy grazing his stubble caused.

“Oh,” she gasped, not wanting him to stop.

He pinned her hand to the bed beside her head as his weight shifted onto her – yet another delightful bonus of dating an athletic man. She could feel that he was ready for Round Two, and her mouth fell open as he prepared for the race. But her issue wasn’t going away, and she very nearly had herself a ‘false start’. His mouth betrayed him as someone who hardly fought fair in all things sportsmanlike as he tongued her nipple.

Oh,” she whimpered. It was happening. She was close… but not to the ending that he was working diligently to achieve.

Before she knew what was happening, he had moved both hands to her waist. They glided down to the swell of her hips, before he grabbed her like a Viking determined to claim his prize. Without a second thought he yanked her roughly towards him for better access, just as a final ‘Oh!” escaped her… along with something else.

A long, stuttering sound ruffled the sheets beneath her. It sounded like air being let out of a balloon, only in slow motion. Her eyes widened in horror, and she could do nothing but stare at his face and wait for his disgusted expression. The noise became elevated at the end – a final hurrah for The Little Fart That Could.

For a moment, all she could do was lie there. He had paused in his determined lovemaking to look at her, and when silence fell over the room once more he moved as though to turn his head away. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing that she had grossed him out and that he was probably going to kick her out of his house now and that it would be the last time she saw him and that –

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted, “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.” She looked away to the window. His head was still turning… he couldn’t even look at her. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Perhaps that was a bad metaphor.

But instead of moving away from her, his lips met her breast once more. “Hear what?” he asked silkily, his breath buzzing against her nipple.

Relief filled her to the brim, and she grinned like a fool until his kisses made such silliness impossible to maintain.

In the haze of their latest bout of amazing sex, she rested her head on his chest and listened to the sound of his heart beating. Of course he would be fine with a little fart – she couldn’t believe she had been worried about it after all! Surely this was one step closer to saying the ‘L’ word? If you could fart in front of someone and they could forgive you for it, how hard could it be to tell them how you really felt about them. Right?

Her thoughts were cut short by him clearing his throat. The sound was so loud against her ear that she jumped, but not loud enough that it made her want to move. Not yet.

“You know, I think you’re right,” he told her, a smile colouring the tone of his voice. “There is definitely a blowie in here.”