Exploring Raffe's Perversions

This is a story involving light to moderate domination, spanking and scat play between adult males. All characters depicted in any sexual situation are eighteen years old or over, and all acts are wholly consensual. If this isn't your sort of thing or it is illegal for you to view it wherever you are, please leave now. This story and its characters are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.

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Exploring Raffe's Perversions

Part One

I'd thought a lot of Raffe when I worked with him. He was with the company I worked for then on some kind of placement scheme with his university, and he was assigned to my team for the last couple of months before he went back. He was an odd lad in some ways; very well-spoken and clearly pretty posh, but without the arrogance you sometimes see in public school kids. In fact he was a bit on the shy side, though when you got to know him he wasn't short of confidence, and he was very bright too. In fact, I wondered if he was ever so slightly slightly dyslexic, because he was a lot cleverer and more capable than his rather average results at school and uni suggested. I doubted it was laziness, because he really put the effort in for us, and from what he said of his studies he was the conscientious kind there too. He'd certainly come with good references from his lecturers. He seemed a nice lad as well; a pleasant, harmless sort of personality, who was unfailingly polite and straightforward to deal with, and very charming when he wanted to be. He was quite good at using that to get his way, I'd noticed, but what he trying to achieve was invariably sensible and reasonable, if not very adventurous. He wasn't outstandingly brilliant at anything but he was at least competent at everything and very good in some areas, and with time and experience I could easily see him growing into the kind of safe pair of hands you need in any organisation. With experience and some mentoring I could well imagine him developing more boldness and initiative too.

Well, that was roughly what I'd written to my boss, at any rate. Part of the deal was that the students were considered for a job offer when they graduated, so I'd had to write a short report on how he'd done. I'd given him a very positive write-up and I'd meant it, but it was far from the whole truth. In fact I'd have loved to work with him again simply because I fancied the pants off him. I always liked cute, twinky lads, and Raffe was just that. He was quite baby-faced, with plump cheeks and a cutely turned up nose, and though he was 21 he didn't look as if he needed to shave often. His skin was ever so slightly dark so he'd tan easily, setting off his thick, mid-brown hair with just a trace of auburn. that he wore slightly long on top, and his bright green eyes. His body was dead cute too. He wasn't chubby, but he did have a bit of weight about him and a slightly heavy chin, and he had shapely legs and a big curvy bum. It didn't take long before I'd be casting him surreptitious glances in the office and drifting off into fantasies about what I'd like to do with him.

Raffe aroused all of my darkest, kinkiest desires. Of course I'd have liked to fuck him, but I also imagined spanking him, using my hand and slipper and belt to make his peachy cheeks glow red, like I had a few lads in the past. Or maybe he'd be the dominant one. He had a faintly moody aspect to him, and sometimes, usually when he was thinking, his smiley face hardened to the point where he looked brooding and even vaguely belligerent. I could just see him in place of the last guy who'd punished me, making that face as he raised the cane yet again. Maybe when he was done he'd piss on me, or perhaps he even needed to shit. Perhaps he'd squat across me and use me as his toilet, and make his little manly grunts as he unloaded his turds onto my face.

I knew he did big shits. Only a week after he started at work, when I'd only spoken with him a few times and hadn't really clocked how handsome he was, I went for a piss one morning and spotted him going into the toilets ahead of me. When I got in there there was no-one at the urinal or washbasins, but one of the three cubicle doors was shut, and from behind it came the sound of him hanging his jacket up and moving over to the toilet. I couldn't resist it. Quickly I took the cubicle at the other end of the row (the middle one would have been suspicious), sat down just before he did, and listened intently. He sat quiet for quite a long time, maybe hoping that whoever had just come in was only having a piss and would soon go and leave him in peace, but then I heard him fidget and grunt, and he started dropping his load. He made deep, heavy plomps and plunks, at quite long intervals as if he was slowly but steadily pushing out a big log, and a couple of times I heard him grunt with satisfaction. The sound of him having a dump gave me a full hard-on, and when the toilet roll holder rattled I couldn't resist leaning down and looking along the floor to watch his feet as he wiped. He did it standing up, his feet as far apart as his trousers would allow, and in my mind's eye I saw him sticking his bottom out and hitching up his shirt, and rubbing gently at his bumhole with a neatly folded length of paper. When he'd washed his hands and gone I was still alone, and I went straight into his cubicle. It smelled pretty bad in there, the air thick and ripe, and he'd left a couple of vivid, darkish-brown skidmarks in the bottom of the bowl. At that my resistance broke. I never normally wanked in the toilet, but my erection wasn't going to go down otherwise, and I sat down on the toilet whose seat was still a little warm from his bottom and wanked off sniffing at cute Raffe's stink.

After that I'd started noticing him a lot more, and with it his toilet habits. He seemed to shit most mornings, and I guessed that on some of the days I didn't see him go in the office -- where people had to pass near to my desk on the way to and from the toilets -- he'd done it at home before he came in. On a lot of days, though, he'd go by about ten o'clock, with the very slightly furtive look of a lad off to perform that most secret act. He didn't seem shy about it, but he was the kind of polite middle-class boy who's discreet, never farts in public, and doesn't draw attention to himself when he goes to the toilet. He'd usually be gone about seven or eight minutes, in which time I'd sit there with my balls tingling pleasantly, imagining what he was doing. As often as I could without making it obvious, I used to follow him and go for a piss, and stand at the urinal listening to cute, wholesome Raffe taking a dump. Either that, or I'd go when he came back, sit in his cubicle and enjoy the skidmarks and the warm seat, and the rich, rounded aroma that always hung thickly in the air. Raffe was pretty smelly despite his twinky cuteness, and that made him even hotter. He always used the same cubicle, and I began to wonder if I could fit up some kind of camera in there to watch him. That was too much of a risk, though. In my late 20s, with a career ahead of me and a mortgage to pay, I couldn't very well afford to get sacked and possibly prosecuted for voyeurism. Instead, I just enjoyed the sounds and smells he made, and when I fantasised about scat and occasionally played solo I let him drift sweetly into my fantasies.

One Sunday morning I woke up with a slight hangover after a night with some friends, horny and thinking about him, and before I got out of bed I imagined him with his morning hard-on, having a wank before he got up, or maybe cuddly morning sex with his partner. If he had one, of course. He didn't talk about his personal life and I got the impression he was a private sort of person. He was also a bit ambiguous. He wasn't the least bit camp and I was pretty sure I'd seen him discreetly making eyes at one of the young women in the office, but still there was something about his gentle manner that seemed a touch `gay,' and I could just as easily imagine him having sex with men as women. Briefly I drifted into a fantasy about giving him his first rimming, which slowly morphed into a much subbier vision of him sitting on my face, farting and telling me he needed a poo. That was the word he'd use for it, I was sure; the softer, more juvenile word that obscured the obscene, erotic reality,

I thought about that again, later in the day, when I was busting for a shit and lying on the sofa in only a T-shirt and tight boxer briefs massaging my hard-on. In my imagination he was suddenly with me, getting off on my desperation and teasing me about what I was going to have to do. When finally I turned around and knelt up, with my arms resting on the sofa back, he pulled his pants off and stood behind me fondling his meaty young cock. I knelt there for a few seconds, grunting and wriggling my hips in discomfort, before I closed my eyes and let it happen. I'd been planning this for days, eating big meals and taking fibre supplements, and a small dose of anti-diarrhoea tablets to help me control it and make sure it was solid. It was huge. I did a thick log that stretched my hole and nearly made me cum. It bulked out my seat in a big lumpy mound, and left me slumped over the back of the sofa, gasping and grunting with pleasure.

`Oh! Unf ... ooh, I'm pooing my pants,' I moaned out loud.

The sensation blocked him out after that. I pushed and more came out, a bulky mass like a horse's shit that packed my seat tight and pressed up against the back of my balls. Having a load in my pants made me super-horny. I edged and dribbled while I finished my dump, and then afterwards, walking around the flat, squatting and humping with my shit pushing about and tweaking my anus and balls, I felt as if I could cum at any moment. Then I went through to the bathroom, put down the toilet lid, and sat down in my smelly brown pile. It squashed everywhere, all across my bottom and forward around my balls, and once again I nearly came. I managed to hold back, though, and settled in for a long time spent wriggling and bouncing on the seat and squashing my shit everywhere, alternated with periods relaxing in it, watching kinky porn on my laptop and fantasising. He returned then, to stand in front of me and poo his pants, and then thrust it back in my face to sniff at his smelly bum before he sat on my knee, and I wished he was really there to cum all over me, and his spunk to mix with mine when I shot all over my tummy.

I felt a little guilty when I saw him arrive at work the following morning, but I still followed him into the toilet and listened to him having a shit. He was gassy and smelly that day, and he left much bigger skidmarks than usual. That night I had a wank, imagining him tied up and desperate, begging me -- his boss -- to let him go to the toilet, and then losing control of his bowels and groaning with humiliation as he did his big gassy dump into his pants. For a while, cute young Raffe's shit became quite an obsession for me. But then his placement finished and he went back to uni, with a friendly smile and a handshake, and a promise from me that we'd be in touch if we were considering offering him a post that I really hoped we'd be able to keep. I knew we probably couldn't, though. It was very competitive, and although he was good there were plenty of others who'd performed as well. I didn't expect to see him again, and over the next few weeks I forgot about him completely.

Three months later he contacted me on Grindr. We didn't know who each other was, of course. I was using my anonymous profile that hinted at all my perversions, and his was a similarly anonymous one that just said he was 21 and bisexual, he liked being tied up, and he was interested in scat. I'd had plenty of messages from that kind of profile before, but unlike most of them he was coherent. He'd spotted my profile whilst he was in my part of town meeting friends, or so he said later, and his messages stopped when he met up with them, leaving me dangling on the end of the line. I didn't expect to hear from him again -- after all, Grindr is full of time-wasters -- but when he contacted me again the following day I began to think he might be genuinely interested.

So we chatted for a while, with him telling me about how he loved watching guys shitting, and the thought of someone watching him and wiping him afterwards. For my part, I admitted to the few meets I'd had in the past, how I'd been shat on a couple of times and once fed an older guy. I'd made a few videos of me shitting over the years, and I sent him a link to them. He came back saying that he'd wanked off three times watching them, and was now thinking about pooing his pants sometime when he had the house to himself.

After that we started talking about possibly meeting up, and we agreed to exchange pictures. His arrived first, and when I opened it my stomach dropped to the floor. Once I'd got over the first shock and excitement the doubts kicked in, though. This was a bit close to home for comfort. I'd not yet sent my picture and for a moment I decided not to. I'd just tell him gently that he wasn't my type and leave it at that, and block him if he got persistent. But then I had second thoughts, and concluded there was no reason for me to be all that cautious about it. Besides, I was sure he was interested now, and he'd seemed to like and trust me when we'd worked together. I messaged him back using his name, and saying that he'd recognise me too but that he could count on my discretion, and then sent my picture. Not ten seconds later my phone bleeped:

• Jamie!! No way!! I'd never have thought you were into this!!!

• Good -- I try to keep it that way! Now we know each other's secret I'm up for it if you are though...?

• Yes!!!

• Excellent! Tell you what, do you want to talk on Zoom or something at some point, and make some plans?

• Can do!! Or why don't we meet for a drink and talk about it?

So we did, the very same evening. It was a Sunday, and the following day was a bank holiday for which I had no plans apart from some housework, so I could afford to have a few drinks. We met in a big, anonymous bar in the city centre where we were unlikely to be recognised.

Raffe was already there when I arrived, fingering a full pint of lager and looking at something on his phone. He looked up as he saw me come in out of the corner of his eye and froze a bit, but then cracked a pleasant smile as I came over, holding out my hand.

`Hiya Raffe, nice to see you again!'

Yeah, and you! He said brightly. How are things with you?'

Good thanks,' I said, taking off my jacket. You okay for a drink?'

`Yeah, I've just got one thanks.'

I could feel his eyes on me as I stood at the bar. It must have been pretty weird for him, meeting up with someone he'd worked for to talk about something like this. It was only to be expected that he'd be on edge a bit. But then, it was weird for me too, and I was probably as nervous as he was. I paid for my beer and headed back to the table where he sat waiting patiently for me, trying to look calmer than I felt.

We sat and made small talk over a couple of pints. His final year at university was going well, he said, and although not getting an interview from us was a disappointment he'd got a couple of other firms interested in him now, including one I'd worked for when I'd first started out. He hadn't heard of the company I was working for by then, though, which was probably a good thing.

Ha, yes!' he chuckled when I pointed that out. It would be a bit mad working together now, wouldn't it?!'

Yes, it would,' I said, realising happily that we'd finally got onto what had brought us both there. Could be awkward, now that we know what we're both into!'

I'd never have thought it Jamie,' he said flatly, looking straight at me. In fact, I thought you were straight until one of the girls in the office mentioned you'd had a boyfriend.'

`I did. We split up a few months back. Just before you worked with us, I think it was.'

`And he wasn't into...?'

`No, definitely not! In fact I kind of forgot about it while I was with him. It wasn't that I didn't think about it, but it just ... didn't seem very important. But then since we split up I've got interested again. You kind of helped there, to be honest.'

`Me?! How?!' he asked, looking a bit startled.

Oh, well, just that I heard you having a shit in the office toilets once,' I said, deciding to play down how interested I'd been in him. The sound of it kind of turned me on, like it always used to...'

`Ah, I see! So you used to listen to me having a poo?!'

`Well a couple of times, yeah. Sorry, was that...'

Oh no, it's fine!' he said airily, before a thought seemed to come to him, and he looked at me slyly. So, you liked me plopping, but what about the smell? I mean, now I think about it, I did notice you go to the loo a couple of times straight after me. Was that what you were going for?'

`Yeah, I did go and smell it once or twice,' I admitted.

Ooh, that's classy, sniffing the toilet after the intern's been for a poo!' he teased me. But you liked it, then?!'

Yeah I did!' I laughed, realising happily that he was cool about what was happening, and deciding to go for it straight away. And that kind of brings us onto why we're here, doesn't it, `cos I'd love to smell it again sometime, if you're up for that?'

Oh yes, I'm up for it,' he said firmly. I'll be honest, I always fancied you when I worked there. Question is, when, and what we're going to do!'

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