Q: I just finished reading the letter from Forced Air Ruined the Sheets and frankly I’m shocked! Not at FARTS’ disgusting problem — a fart “went between the lips of [her] vagina” after sex — but shocked at you, Dan. Haven’t you ever heard of a pussy fart, Mr. Savage? Queefs? After all the pumping and squeezing of sex (especially doggy-style, in my experience) pockets of air are sometimes trapped up in the vaginal canal. As the muscles relax post-orgasm, the air is released. It has nothing to do with the gas a woman might pass through her anus, as the vaginal opening and the anal opening are in no way connected — one is attached to the intestines, one to the uterus.
Like FART, I sometimes feel a fartlike gas pass from my vagina, usually post-coitus. I also have the ability (and this, I can understand, may freak you out a little) to suck air into my vaginal opening by sucking in my stomach very quickly and relaxing my vaginal muscles. Then I can force the air out, pussy-farting at will. I do not have a “stretched out” vagina, I would like to add. I have never had a child, I’m only 18, and I’ve only been sexually active for about a year. I just have large hips, a small abdomen, and very strong vaginal muscles.
Hope that helps, Dan, and good luck getting some of these visuals out of your head. Sign me the headmistress of … —Pussy University for Fags
A: Thanks for sharing, PUFF, and a shout-out to everyone — the hundreds and hundreds of you — who wrote in to tell me the good news of the rising queefs, those air-pumped-in, air-pushed-out vaginal farts. But guess what? I know all about queefs, you dopes, having pumped out numerous columns on them over the years. I also witnessed my fair share of queefs back when I was a sexually active teenager. (Hey there, Wanda!) I even credit one particularly loud queef with prompting me to stop having sex with girls and come out of the closet — I figured that if I was going to fuck something that sounded like butt, hell, why not fuck some hot boy’s butt instead?
What freaked me out about FARTS’ letter wasn’t that she queefed. FARTS didn’t queef. Obviously what happened to FARTS wasn’t clear since so many of you wrote in to complain, so let me clarify: FARTS farted. Gas came out of her anus and the fart bubble, instead of exiting via her flapping butt cheeks, slipped forward and exited PAST her vaginal lips, causing them to flap. So FARTS didn’t queef, folks, she actually passed gas past her vaginal lips.
FARTS wrote in because she wanted to know if she was some sort of circus freak or if other women have experienced this same farting phenomenon. Buried in the hundreds of letters from women writing in to yell at me about queefs were dozens from women who wanted to let FARTS know she isn’t alone. Most had only passed gas past their vaginas, but a few women wrote in to claim that they have actually passed gas from their vaginas. … Read on, if you dare. …
Q: In response to FARTS: Of course she’s not alone! In my experience, what path gas takes between my ass and the open air has to do with the position I’m in. If I’m standing or lying on my front, the path is out the back. If I’m sitting or lying on my back, the easiest way for it to go is up, passing by my cunt lips along the way. —Lesbo Breeder to Be
A: First, thanks for sharing, LBTB.
Second, since all the letters in this week’s column are from women who wanted to let FARTS know that she’s not alone, I wanna toss a little something in for all the readers out there who couldn’t care less where FARTS’ fart went: Hey, did anyone else out there think the big finale to “Average Joe: Hawaii” was a load of crap? The hot guy dumps the hot chick because she used to date Fabio!? Did he think that only virgins agree to go on reality dating shows to be courted by 25 guys at once? Puh-leeze.
Q: Could you please explain to me what is so repulsive about gas passing by the lips of FARTS’ vagina? I can see how a random straight guy might have a fear of all things anal and wouldn’t want gas to taint the vagina, which he loves. But why would someone who likes to give and get a good butt-lovin’, and who we assume has gotten over the fact that butts also shit and fart, find gas breezing by some other sex organ so gross? —Confused
A: I’m a good Catholic gay boy, C, which means that I’ve never really gotten over the fact that butts also shit and fart. I’m just in denial about it — lifelong, everlasting denial, with any luck. In other news: Savage Love’s Web site of the Week award goes to www.godhatesshrimp.com. Check it out.
Q: The meandering, chaotic paths that farts sometimes take has been a subject of discussion among my girlfriends for quite a while. Everybody has a different horrifying story but mine takes the cake: I was in a car, riding in the backseat with my legs crossed. We hit a bump and a bit of gas escaped and, much to my horror, traveled forward toward my vagina. It went in. I was horrified. My ass continued to leak gas that, due to my contorted position, continued to go into my vagina. I was, in effect, inflating myself! Of course, after getting out of the car and uncrossing my legs it all came out. It hasn’t happened since then and I couldn’t be more thankful. Hope this helps FARTS. —Retained in Pussy
A: OK, I think we’ll let RIP have the last word. Thanks for sharing, ladies.
In other news: A men’s clothing store opened near my office a few months ago. The place is white, the clothes are trendy, the staff is hot. But the thing that catches my eye as I walk past every day are the mannequins. There are 10 of them, lined up in the window, and they all have slim hips, longish legs, wide shoulders, and flat chests; basically, they all look like the kind of tallish, slim hipster boys that turn my crank. That I have a crush on a bunch of mannequins doesn’t really freak me out too much — that’s an established fetish, after all, with the full fetish infrastructure (Web sites, clubs, parties) to support it. No, what freaks me out is that none of the mannequins have heads. There’s a clean cut at the neck, and then, … nothing. Walking by the store twice a day on my way to and from work, well, I’m afraid I’ve started to develop a bit of a decapitation fetish. I kinda wanna make it with a slim, hot, stylishly dressed guy with no head. Is that normal? Am I some sort of circus freak? Or are there other men and women who’ve experienced this desire to make it with a hot, headless hipster?Send letters to Dan Savage at [email protected]