You heard the thudding booms of Sarah's footfalls as she approached your desk. Ordinarily, Sarah would sit next to you, but today, as she didn't see you, she would sit at your desk. There was a loud smash as Sarah put her books down. Suddenly, a terrible odor wafted down to you, and you remembered one of the reasons for her shyness; her gas. One time, when you were smaller, you and Sarah had been playing hide-and-seek at her house while her parents were away. You had hidden in between some couch cushions, and Sarah couldn't find you. So Sarah, operating on the idea that you couldn't hide forever, sat down at the couch cushion where your face was and watched TV. As there was no reason that she could see to hold it in, she had farted up a storm -- and you had to suffer through it all. It had finally ended when you had come up for air at the same time she scooted back. Since there were few other things to do, you and Sarah had become friends and were sworn to secrecy about Sarah's flatulence.
Now, Sarah's titanic jean-clad ass hovered above your chair, about to make its descent...
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