The shame... oh, the shame.
I used to work in a convenience store, along with my elder brother and a few other idiotic reprobates who shared a similar sense of humour and a general reticence to do any work. One perennial favourite when it came to wasting time was to brew up a bumtrump and then run to a colleague and press your arse against them, before letting it out. Childish, yes, but infinitely more amusing than dealing with smack-head shoplifters or old ladies who stank of piss and paid in 2p pieces.

So. There we were one night, and me and my sibling happened to be behind the tills, bored as usual, with a couple of hours to go until we could shut the shop and get wasted. I have pretty rotten guts at the best of times, and the amount of drinking we used to do only made them worse. This particular night I had a proper rasper on its way, and decided that my brother was the worthiest - and nearest - recipient for this somewhat pungent gift.

I leapt over to him, and tried to press my behind against his thigh, but, no fool he, he'd worked out my game and tried to struggle free. This had the unfortunate effect of his balls somehow ending up pressed against my arse as I let out a mighty bottom burp, which must have warped and wobbled his nuts like two eggs in a pan of boiling water.

We never spoke of this afterwards, and the game was tacitly deemed too dangerous to play, ever again. So there you have it; I farted on my brother's balls.
( CaptainCrackerjack live trout, slow motion, Tue 17 Jul 2007, 14:55, Reply)