This is a story involving light to moderate scat play between two adult males. All characters are over the age of eighteen. If this isn't your sort of thing or it is illegal for you to view it, please leave now. This story is entirely fictitious, and any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.
Straight Lad's Shit
Chapter 2
For ages I didn't hear from him. I did text him once but he never replied, and I concluded he must have lost interest. Maybe he'd scratched that particular itch, or maybe the first time had freaked him out. Either way, that amazing experience of watching him shit would have to remain a brilliant memory; a wonderful one-off. Then one morning he texted me:
- Hi. Long time no see. U about later? Horny and need 2 shit lol
For the next couple of hours I had to stop myself from wanking as I thought of him, needing a shit and knowing what was going to happen. He didn't say much when he arrived, and he was already looking uncomfortable. I sat on the edge of the bath as he let his jeans fall to his ankles, bared his bubble bum and sit on the toilet, and listened intently to the little poof' of gas as his bumhole opened, and the slimy crackling that followed. Plop ... plump-plop ...plomp ... plop ... plop.' His logs were thick and solid and they didn't smell as ripe as last time. It was just as much of a turn-on, though, and we both ended up shooting into the toilet before he flushed it, one after the other, spattering cum all over his shit and used toilet paper. It was even better a few days later when he came around late morning, red-eyed and horny, clenched tight to hold in his big, dirty hangover shit. He pulled down his trousers, plonked himself gratefully on the seat and let go. He seemed to go on grunting and plop-plopping for ages, and his farts echoed in the bowl. The heady stink was glorious, and when he stood up and swung his sweet bottom aside I almost came at once at the sight of the fat, smooth curls he'd filled the bowl up with.
`I'd have fucking loved to watch that come out!' I said later.
`What, serious? You wanna see me do it?!'
`Yeah! Want you to squat down and do it on the floor ... or better still do it outside. Be really hot to see you squatting somewhere in the open.'
`My mate Aston did that on the way home from a party last weekend. He'd been taking coke and it made him need a shit, but someone was banging some lass in the bathroom so he had to do it up an alley on the walk home, dirty cunt. Fucking stunk as well.'
`Heh, yeah, coke always used to make me shit too, back when I did it.'
`Always does mate. I near enough blocked the toilet that night! Anyhow, you wanna watch me do it outside? Mm, that'd be fucking hot, just squatting down and having a shit somewhere. I'll do that, if you know somewhere we can go. Somewhere out of town, though, where we ain't gonna get seen.'
Two weeks later found me sitting in my car on double yellows outside the railway station, clocking the traffic warden writing out a parking ticket a hundred yards away and checking impatiently on my phone for why his train was late. The warden tucked the ticket under the windscreen of a car and set off in my direction. I started my engine and was just about to drive away when Connor appeared. I motioned him in quickly. He grinned cutely as he slipped his lithe, football-player's body into the car.
`Hi mate. Sorry I'm so late. Fucking trains!'
No worries, you're here now.' I indicated and pulled out into the road. You still need a shit, yeah?'
`Big time mate. Didn't think I was gonna be able to hold it on the train and I was gonna have to go and shit in the toilet. I hate train bogs. There was some really fit lass sitting right by the door too, and she'd have known I was taking a shit ... and smelt it when I come out.'
`You didn't though?' I asked, musing briefly on how weird sexuality is: he didn't like the thought of a girl knowing he was taking a dump, but he got off on a guy actually watching him do it.
`Nah. Mind over matter, and all that shit. Don't even really need to go right now. It's there, like, but I ain't about to shit myself. Where we going, anyhow?'
I explained that I knew a spot a few miles from town, a quiet wooded area with plenty of paths that should be deserted on a weekday afternoon like this. He nodded, as if to say `okay,' and lifted his right buttock a little. The smell of his fart filled the car.
`Mmm, that smells like you really need to go!'
`Yeah, I ain't been since yesterday morning; big hangover shit. I fucking did one that wouldn't flush, and had to break it up with the bog brush! Have you ever...'
I let him go on as we turned off the main road and onto the lane leading into the wood, getting a semi as he did. Having this gorgeous straight lad tell me about his shit was well horny. He'd farted again too. He was talking how one of his housemates had complained about the skidmarks he left in the toilet when I pulled in at the side of the road. I caught his eye as we went to get out of the car, and he pursed his lips and looked the other way. Maybe he was having second thoughts, and he looked warily about him as we set off into the trees, but he didn't say anything. I wondered what was going through his mind; what the pressure in his bowels felt like, and whether he was looking forward to emptying them for me. We were well into the trees by now, and I began to look for a suitable spot. Then he stopped suddenly.
Here?' He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. Just over there, by them trees? Oh, and gimme the tissues.'
I handed him the packet and sat down on a nearby tree stump. He looked round him one more time, his face tense. Then he turned away from me and began unbuckling his belt. His bottom was vividly pale against the colours of the wood, I noticed randomly as he pulled his jeans down. He didn't drop them far; just down his sturdy thighs a little way. He glanced around again quickly, and then squatted down, his tight peachy bum a few inches from the ground.
`Ooh,' he breathed.
His hole was puckered tight, fringed with just a little wiry hair. It twitched and began to open, uncovering the thick head of his turd. He gave a little push and it began to slide out, a lumpy chocolate column extending slowly towards the ground. It glistened as the sun caught it. Then it broke off suddenly and dropped to the ground with a soft `thud.' Its broken end jutted from him. He grunted and gave a little push, and slowly began to grow another lumpy tail that paused as it was about to touch down on the earth. I could smell it now; that gorgeous rank stink he made; and he looked so hot squatting there, grunting, with a thick turd hanging stiffly from his arse. It swung slightly as he shifted his foot, and then it too thudded onto the ground. He reached down and pushed his dick down until it pointed to the ground, and I saw he had more than half a hard-on already. He pissed like a horse, a great splashy stream on the ground, and as he did so he grunted again and curled out a great thick snake that hit the ground, bent around and curled over his logs as it tapered off. The end slid cleanly from him and he paused again , his dirty tight hole puckering in and out. I thought he'd finished, but then he grunted again and curled out another snake, and another and another. I pawed at my dick through my trousers as I watched them flop onto the big brown pile underneath him. He turned around and winked sexily as he finished. Then he reached in his pocket for the tissues and rocked himself forward, to support himself on his right hand as he wiped his bum with his left. He was pretty dirty, and there were big brown smears on the first few tissues he used. As soon as he was done he turned round convulsively, rock hard, holding his dick above his chunky curled pile. I could resist it any more. I ripped down my pants and joined him, kneeling together on the ground and wanking as the smell of what he'd done hung in the air around us, until finally we both came all over his shit.
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