As the quarantine continued, I found myself getting hornier and hornier, and thus piggier and piggier. Nobody was meeting at this time, so I had no outlet to take care of my urges. As these piled up, some of my deeper and darker desires bubbled to the surface.
Who I am is perhaps the most immaterial part of this story, and that's the point. For those of you who are intrigued by such things, I'm average height and average build. I work out and run to keep my weight down, but still have a little bit of a gut. I have short cropped brown hair, and a thick fur coat covers me everywhere. I was blessed with a 7.5" thick cock; sadly circumcised, but that was out of my control. I have a pert bubble butt as well. Sexually, I identify as a sub pig top. Now, you may be saying to yourself -- that's somewhat of a contradiction. Tops are supposed to be dominant, and bottoms are supposed to be submissive. That's not how I see it. While I tend to be the alpha male in my professional life, I like to take a backseat when it comes to fun. I view myself as a vessel for another's pleasure. I love having a guy ride me and use me as his personal dildo, until he shoots his thick creamy load all over my fur, goatee, and face.
I also have had a growing desire to be used as a toilet. For as long as I can remember, I've found myself turned on by bathroom functions. I have shot some of my best loads while taking a shit -- perhaps it's just the stimulation in my ass while jerking off. But these two ideas have been associated for a long time, to the extent where they are now intertwined. When you combine this with my desire to serve and be a vessel of someone else's pleasure, this translates into being a human toilet. Honestly, I have not been bold enough to try to eat, but I have always been turned on by the thought of watching another guy shit. Perhaps because it is one of the more intimate acts you can do in front of another person. Many of us are voyeuristic when it comes to sex, but how many of us actually want to have another person watch us shit?
That brings us back to the quarantine. Without the ability to get my sexual urges satisfied, I started to get creative in how I could get these urges met with social distancing. It then occurred to me: if I'm viewing myself as a vessel for another's pleasure and yet maintain 6' of separation, there's got to be someone out there who would get off on completely defiling someone without having to make physical contact. Just knowing that there was another person receiving all of your filth, without necessarily even having to look at that person, has got to be someone's fantasy.
I changed my profile on one of the hookup apps to say "Love to get covered in cum and piss. Anyone with the ability to do this from a distance of 6'? Be creative." Most responses I got were from guys who were curious in my responses: "Me too man, let me know if anything feasible pops up" "Aren't we all???" There were a couple guys who had some practical ideas, whether pissing on me out a window or off a balcony. However, most didn't have the time or willingness to execute -- didn't want to get caught with the public act or had partners at home as well and couldn't finagle the time.
There was one guy who was willing to lend a hand. He didn't share any pics of himself, but he did send me a couple photos of a dirty toilet bowl filled with piss. Some had a couple skid marks on the bowl as well. I thought this may be my clue that I could get more than I asked for. We chatted for a bit about being pent up with the quarantine, our particular kink interests, etc. He said that he couldn't host at his place in the way some of the other guys had suggested, but that he'd be open to doing something in public. There was a park nearby that had a bridge over a pathway under it (neither accessible to cars), so we could plan for a time when fellow hikers would not likely be there. We figured after dark would be optimal, as that would have the smallest crowds and if someone happened to stumble upon us -- they wouldn't see much. We made plans to meet the following Friday evening around 9pm. He would go to the bridge above the pathway, and I would go to the pathway below -- ensuring we were abiding by social distancing rules.
I showed up that Friday around 8:45PM, 15 minutes earlier than we had decided on. I wanted to get a sense of how busy the foot traffic would be -- in case we needed to postpone. I was nervous -- what if he didn't show up? What if this didn't work? What if we got caught? I walked through the trails in the park and did not see anyone in the late twilight hour. I wandered back over to the bridge a few minutes before 9PM. I didn't want to seem too eager, in case that would deter the act. I checked my phone a couple times to see if I had any messages from him, although I made sure to do it somewhat hidden so the bright glare of the cell phone wouldn't be seen by others in the forest. Finally, I heard footsteps approaching above me.
"You there?" he gruffly barked.
"Yeah, I'm here," I said meekly.
"You ready?" he asked.
"I mean, mentally no, but--" I started.
"I didn't ask that, faggot. I said are you ready," he retorted.
"I just have to take my clothes off, Sir." I added that last word for effect. Apparently, that seemed to calm him down.
"Good boy. Let me know, this is gonna be good. I've been saving up all day," he chuckled knowingly. I quickly pulled off my t-shirt and jeans and tossed them onto the grass on the side. I took my shoes and socks off, but then put them back on. If someone came by, I wanted to get away quickly.
"I'm ready sir--what should I do?"
"Lie down, you fucking faggot. I gotta go!" I tried to imagine where he would be for maximum impact and got down on my back.
"Ready sir!" I lay there waiting. I didn't know how long it would take or what to expect. It seemed like forever that I just lay on the ground. Suddenly, my stomach got pelted. After the initial pain subsided, I could feel the warmth of the log. The strong pungent aroma hit my nose. It smelled like he'd be saving it up for a while. The next couple logs were smaller and hit in my chest. They also became looser the more he released. The third started dribbling down my side. The last few plops landed on my neck. The smell grew stronger. I lay still, feeling the warmth of his filth and lost in the stench. I knew that if I started rubbing his shit into my fur, I'd be yelled at and the session would end. I lost track of time until a steady stream hit my face. Instinctively, I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. The taste was acrid and bitter. I could only swallow so much before the taste became overwhelming and a started spitting it out toward my chest.
"Fucking swallow, you faggot!" came from above. I tried to swallow quickly so the taste was fleeting. This seemed to keep him happy and minimize my discomfort. The stream trickled off and the last drops fell on my chest and his pile of filth, making them become more fluid. I was unsure what to do at this point. I had not heard a rustling of clothes, nor of footsteps away. Yet I knew I was not to move. The more time went on, the more nervous I became. Had he left? How was I to know? What if someone came? It was dark, but I'm sure someone would notice the naked man in the middle of the path -- or smell the pile of shit and piss that adorned my chest. I tried to open my eyes, but residual piss started to flow in -- I immediately shut them. I figured I'd give it five minutes before I tried to move. I guess I would start counting up to 300, to be a good marker. I got to about 210, when I started to hear grunting above me.
"Unghhhh," came as a loud groan. I felt more warm splashes splatter my chest. I heard a rustling of clothes, a pause for about a minute, some more rustling (including the clanking of the belt buckle). "Hey faggot, I got one last surprise for you," he barked. I heard his footsteps walking away. What was the surprise? Another scat top? A friend to humiliate me? I suddenly felt something light tickle my nose, but it stuck to my nose. I squinted briefly. It looked white. Since he had left, I reached up and felt the wad of tissue that he had used to wipe himself with. I stood up. Most of the shit fell to the ground, but some of it clung to my fur. I stumbled over to the side of the path to grab my clothes. I contemplated putting them back on, but I knew that it wasn't going to hide anything. I stuck the crumpled wad in the pocket of my jeans, saving that memento for another day.