Gaston's Toilet by loop_fruit
He left his number in the bathroom - on the wall.
The first time I saw it, I was 17. His message was simple: "Top Guy into bizarre sex". I didn't know what he might mean by 'bizarre', but I knew that I was definitely a bottom - even though I had not yet had sex with anyone. And I certainly knew that my fantasies would be considered 'bizarre'. I took down his number, and the first time I called, I hung up when I heard his voice. He had an accent - I thought it might be French. I wondered how old he was. He'd sounded quite young - I guessed he might be in his early twenties.
A different bathroom, a different message: "I want you to be my toilet". The same number as I'd copied down a week ago was next to the message. My heart beat quickly. In my fantasies, I was often forced to drink a man's piss while kneeling in front of him. Once finished emptying his bladder, the man would often command me to lie on my back. I'd see his ass slowly lower over my face. I knew what was coming next...
I decided to call him. What was there to lose? At worst, I might get uncomfortable and hang up on him. Even so, my hand was shaking as I made the call, and I hoped I would be able to hide the nervousness in my voice.
"Hello?", I heard him say with his strong accent. "Hello", I said hoarsely, "I saw your ads". "My ads?", he said, confusion in his voice. "Yes. The ones in the bathrooms". "Oh yes", he said, I could almost hear the sound of a smile in his voice. "You want to be my slave, then". I felt the blood shoot into my cock as I responded, "Yes, that's right". I found out he was 21, and his name was Gaston. We discussed what he was looking for in a slave. His voice was so sexual, that every time he said the word 'slave', or 'toilet', or 'piss', my cock would feel a jolt of pleasure.
It was the first of many calls. He wasn't interested in phone sex - he wanted to meet me. But I was too nervous for that, and at times, when I'd catch him in a horny mood, he'd give in and jerk with me over the phone. I'd share with him my fantasies of wanting to kneel in front of him while he sat on the toilet. How I wanted to beg him for his cock as he looked down at me and laughed. How I longed to hear him command me to take his cock into my mouth, forcing me to drink down his hot piss as I heard him grunt and fart, finally hearing the sound of a huge turd falling from his asshole and splashing into the toilet. The putrid smell would overwhelm me with ecstasy and disgust as I continued to suck his now fully erect cock. Then he'd stand up and turn his ass toward me. "Time to wipe it", he'd say, while spreading his cheeks with his hands and pushing the dirty hole towards my mouth...
He'd always cry out as his cum began to spurt - I tried to imagine what he looked like as I held the receiver to my ear and let my own cum shoot all over the floor. I wanted to be his slave, and yet I was so fearful - I'd never had sex before, not even anything 'vanilla'. I just couldn't bring myself to meet with him, and finally, he told me to stop calling him if I wasn't interested in anything beyond phone sex.
When I was 18, I went away to college. I started meeting different gay men on campus or at bars, and casual sex became a regular release for me. I didn't get into anything kinky - just oral and anal sex. There was nothing I loved more than rimming a man as he sat on my face, and sometimes, as I looked up and saw a hairy asshole lowering toward my lips, I would imagine it was Gaston, and dream about what was coming next. But the men I was meeting never mentioned a desire to delve into dominance and submission or raunch or anything else 'alternative', and I was never brave enough to speak of my own dark desires, so my kinky side remained closeted.
One summer break, when I was home visiting my family, I decided to go for a bike ride through a park I hadn't visited for a long time. I was 22 at the time, and visiting with my parents had become more of a chore than anything else. I had told them I was gay several months before, and they had been less than approving. Since then, conversation with them was often strained, and I tried to keep my visits short. Riding my bike became a way of escaping from home, while keeping me in good shape. I was proud of my body, and I tried hard to take good care of it.
Anyway, as I rode through the park, I felt the call of nature, and I wheeled my bike toward the bathroom at the north end. I knew that it was a bathroom where men 'cruised' each other - it was one of the bathrooms where I had read the 'ads' written by Gaston.
I sat down on the toilet and began looking over the writing on the wall. There was a message: "I want you to be my toilet". The number next to it was different than the one I had called all those years ago. Could it be Gaston? I quickly copied it down. Did I have the courage to meet him now? I wiped my ass and hurried out of the bathroom to the pay phone outside. There was already somebody on it. Damn!
The man at the phone glanced me up and down. It was obvious he was here to cruise. And he was definitely easy to look at. He was about 6 feet tall, and weighed maybe 185 pounds. He had dark wavy hair and a moustache and goatee, and his eyes were a dark brown. He was wearing tight Levi's and a denim shirt. I guessed his age to be around 25. He kept staring at me, but the short message I had read on the bathroom wall and the phone number I now held in my hand were keeping my focused on one thing - calling Gaston - and I just wished the guy at the phone would hurry up with his call. I decided to move closer to the phone, to make it clear that I was waiting for him to finish his call.
And then I heard the accent. The man at the phone had a voice so similar to the one I had heard on the phone all of those years ago. Could it be Gaston? My erection grew in my pants, and the man on the phone looked back and forth from my bulging jeans to my eyes. He finished up his call and walked into the bathroom, looking back over his shoulder as he went through the door. My heart was beating hard in my chest. What if it wasn't Gaston? Would I make an idiot of myself?
I followed inside as if I was in a trance. There were three toilet stalls and he was in the middle one - I chose the one to the left. I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet seat. I could see that he'd pulled his jeans down around his ankles. I bent over, trying to see if what more I might be able to see - his white briefs were stretched out between his ankles, and I could see a beautiful brown skid mark in the center of the shorts. My cock was fully erect and my heart was beating in my throat. I didn't know for sure if it was Gaston in the stall next to me, but whoever it was appeared to have a raunchy ass, and I was determined that I wanted to lick it clean.
I heard a fart rip from the ass of the man in the next stall, echoing throughout the dirty bathroom we were in. I almost had an orgasm on the spot, and tried to focus on remaining in control. I saw his hand come under the wall between us holding a notepad and a pen. It had nothing written on it, so I scrawled a short note: "What are you into?", and passed it back under the wall. He passed it back to me with a note saying, "I like it kind of dirty". My heart was pounding more as I wrote him back: "Are you top or bottom?". The message came back: "Top". It had to be Gaston. I decided to take a huge risk - what was the worst that could happen? If I didn't like the guy, I could always run from the bathroom and ride my bike like hell to get away. My next note read: "I want to be your toilet". I passed the note back under the wall. There was a moment of silence that felt a year long before I heard him stand up and walk out of his stall. He was standing outside of my stall now, and I reached up and unlocked it. He stepped inside and locked it behind him.
"You should be on your knees", he said, and I knew then beyond a doubt that it was Gaston, both from his accent, and his tone. I fell on my knees before him and he wiped his uncut cock across my face. "Smell it!", he ordered, and I inhaled the stench of his cock. It smelled like he hadn't bathed for days. He moved around behind me and sat on the toilet - I turned around and faced him, on my knees before him. He held his cock out toward my face. "Lick under the skin", he said with a sneer. I was intoxicated by his presence and I began to lap at his dick like a dog. The smell and taste of his filthy foreskin made me gag and he laughed as I continued to lick it clean anyway. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head forward, forcing his cock into my mouth. He farted another huge, loud fart as I sucked him, and the stench was more disgusting than any fantasy had allowed me to imagine. As I smelled it and sucked on his huge cock, I began to wonder how far he'd take me - if his farts smell that horrible, what if he makes me lick his shit?
He pulled his cock from my mouth and commanded me to bow in front of him and take off his boots. His socks were filthy and smelled worse than a locker room full of jocks. He stuffed his foot, sock and all, into my mouth and I gagged and choked as he said "Suck it, bitch". As I sucked the disgusting sock, he pushed his other foot under my nose and rubbed it over my face. He laughed and called me a faggot, a sick twisted queer, a piece of shit, his fucking perverted slave. Then he grabbed my hair and pulled my face up toward his cock again. It was soft as he pushed it past my lips, and I felt the splash of hot piss hit the back of my throat. Although I had fantasized about it many times, I had never tasted piss before, and the strong bitter taste made me gag. I was afraid I'd throw up, but even more afraid of what might happen if I did - would he make me lick it off the floor? I focused on swallowing down the hot, putrid urine and fought to breath normally. It seemed like forever that I knelt there, drinking his piss before I could feel the flow decrease, and he pulled out, spraying the last bit into my face. Then he looked down at me with hatred in his eyes, and spit in my face. He did it again, and again, saying "Eat it, bitch", and I opened my mouth, catching his spittle on my tongue. He spit on the floor, and pushed my head down to his feet. "Lick it up!", he commanded, and I licked his spit off of the disgusting floor. He pushed my head down hard and wiped the floor with my face, while grunting and laughing. Then he grabbed my hair again and pulled my face up toward his crotch. He stuck his hand between his legs and down to his ass hole, then pulled it out again, his index finger pointing toward my face - it was brown. "What's that on my finger, bitch?", he asked in a sinister voice. "Your shit, sir.", I responded. He took his finger and stuck it up my nose. In my fantasies, it was always kind of disgusting to smell another man's shit. But never had I imagined how truly sickening it smelled, and I once again fought from retching. I felt completely base and started thinking about how the hell I could escape before we went any farther. He stuck his finger up his ass again, this time pointing it toward my mouth. "Taste it!", he commanded. I felt completely under his control. I wanted to run away, but I couldn't. I opened my mouth, and wrapped my lips around his outstretched finger. I could feel the grittiness of his shit on my tongue as I licked it clean. I was disgusted and degraded, and he could tell. He laughed as a huge fart blew from his ass. My eyes begged him to stop there. "What do you want, fucker?", he asked me, again with the sinister look. "I don't think I can do this.", I said quietly. "Do what?", he demanded. I looked down. "Look at me!", he screamed, and I looked back up into his hate-filled eyes. "I don't think I can eat it", I said. "Say it, faggot! What don't you think you can eat?". "Your shit, sir. I don't think I can eat your shit". He laughed again. He was enjoying torturing me. He loved to see the look of disgust on my face. He relished humiliating and degrading me. "So you want me to go easy on you?", he asked. "Please sir", I responded. "You've never eaten a man's shit before, have you?", he inquired. "No sir, I've never done any of this stuff - never drank piss, never licked a filthy cock, I've never sucked a man's feet or had my face rubbed on the floor of a filthy bathroom like this. It's all new to me, sir, and I don't think I can do any more".
He looked down at me, contemplating for a moment. I felt at his mercy. I don't know why. He wasn't much bigger than me. I'm in good shape, so I could probably hold my own against him in a fight. And I could always run - I'm fast. So why did I remain on my knees at his feet? "Please sir", I said again.
A smile spread across his face. "No fucking way, faggot", he said, "lie down on your back". I looked at him once again, my eyes pleading for mercy, but I could tell it was no use. He had decided to make me eat his shit, and begging him for hours would not change his mind. My mind felt like I was in a trance as I shifted my legs to the side, laying on my back on the filthy floor, looking up at his evil face glaring down at me from where he sat on the toilet. Then he shifted, pulled one leg out of his pants, and then put his feet on either side of my chest, facing my feet. And i saw his ass lower towards my face, as I had imagined it many times before. He moved slowly, and I could smell his ass when it was still inches from my face. He stopped once his asshole was a couple of inches above me, and for a small second, I felt like maybe he would change his mind. Maybe he'd be merciful. Then he grunted, and the most rank, disgusting fart spewed out of his ass, spraying my face with wetness. He pressed his asshole over my mouth, and I struggled to breathe the stench of his fart. "Open your faggot mouth", he commanded, and I obeyed. I could feel his muscles tighten as he grunted over my mouth. It felt totally surreal as I fully realized that I was about to become Gaston's human toilet. I could feel the lips of his asshole part as a hard log made its way through my lips. This man was shitting in my mouth! I sucked it in, completely disgusted and humiliated, knowing that I could never be the same again. The vile taste pushed farther into my throat, and I realized that I would choke on it if I didn't bit it off. My stomach churned as I bit through the filthy log of shit, chewing it up as still more was pushed into my mouth from his ass. Suddenly, Gaston started pressing his ass against my face, wiping it back and forth over my lips and nose. "I'm wiping my ass on your face, you filthy, disgusting toilet", he sneered. "You're a completely filthy faggot, shit eating worthless slave, vile, sick excuse for a human, you're my toilet, do you hear me, my fucking toilet!", he shouted through laughter as he smeared his shit all over my face. Then he rose up, looked down at me, spit in my face, laughed once more, and pulled up his pants, walking out of the bathroom, back into the park.
I was left there full of his shit, completely humiliated, and more disgusted with myself than I had ever been. He was right - I was his human toilet.
written by loop_fruit