I have a fetish for listening to girls like Satania (sexually mature age) take nasty gassy dumps; not scat, just the *sound*, the sensory experience, the plucking of the nervous system's strings. It starts with their shuffling feet, scurrying to their porcelain savior and my ears trying to judge what their gait looks like, their shoes, their body - finer details in the noise if you are a deep listener - the anticipation heats up as the stall door *clicks*, then in a sublime moment, a timing, neither too quick or fast, you get the nice thump sound of their ass slamming the seat, summoning a faint detection of the bowl's shape and the plump thighs wrapping themselves securely and *sensually* around it - before they relax and unleash an unladylike, cathartic avalanche of waste. Mud, putrid mud, waste; such a disgusting and meager thing, but it is coming from her. If you're lucky, you can hear them moan or sigh after recoiling from their gas and crude bowel eruptions, 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 some alert social vista of tired modern life, 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 and embarrassment of a woman, of whom her midst is without you in any dimension - at least to her. There is no prolonged ache of a relationship, relating, chaotic sympathy and pain, miscommunication; this is for you, a perfect erotic experience rapidly and carefully accounted into the brain, by the elite stenographer of your steady senses into your brain. No one may pry this rich memory from you, and no one got hurt. Tell me, can another fetish provide as much auditory feedback and information for your mind to crunch down on? I thought not.