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 7
Oh fuck me,' groaned Connor. This fucking hurts.'
A car went by and he looked around, panic-stricken. He shuffled from foot to foot, wincing as he clenched his hole in tight. He'd been shitting in the morning for most of that week: every day about 9am he'd sent me a pic of his turds in the toilet; all solid, nicely-formed logs. Now it was early afternoon, he'd eaten a lot yesterday, and he'd had a sandwich on the train over, and then a cup of coffee. It had been the final straw for him. Even before we'd left the station he was looking uncomfortable and wondering whether he ought to go to the toilet. Now, a few streets away from my place, he was wishing he had, and I secretly loved watching him struggle, my dick stiffening in my pants as he squirmed in his desperation. He'd promised to give it me it in the face again. Now I wondered whether he'd be able to last that long, and contemplated the prospect of seeing him shit himself instead. He straightened up again, breathing hard.
`Oh ... come on, Only a few minutes to yours from here, innit?'
`Yeah.'
`Thank fuck. I've near enough got a turtle's head coming out.'
Time seemed to slow down as we scurried back to mine. Every so often he'd stop and squirm painfully, then carry on, hissing that he wanted to kneel over me in the bath. He was telling me how good would feel unloading all over my face, when suddenly he stopped again. His eyes widened in horror.
`Oh Jesus Christ, I'm gonna shit myself!'
He clenched himself tight, doubled over, straightened up and hopped about as he fought to hold it in, and I grew harder still as he drew nearer to losing all his dignity as he lost control and dirtied his pants. He bent again and clutched his stomach, face contorted in pain.
`Oh fuck, it's coming now! I can't stop it! Oh shit!'
He gave up, and groaned as his body overcame his willpower. His jeans bulged out slightly, and I could just hear the squishing noises as his turd squashed across his bottom. All of a sudden I could smell it, all sultry and thick. He groaned again as his bowels gave another uncontrollable heave and the bulge in his jeans grew a little bigger.
`Come on, we'd best get back to mine.'
He straightened up slowly, looking around him all red-faced and subdued, and grimaced as he took a tentative step forward. He walked slightly bow-legged now, trying to stop his mess rubbing about on his bum. Thankfully we passed no one in the last couple of minutes' walk back to mine, and when I opened the door he scuttled inside gratefully and straight through to the bathroom, where he peeled off his shirt, undid his belt and let his jeans fall round his legs. I stripped as he did so. He was wearing trunks, mercifully; tight blue ones that held his shit in a big bulge against his bum that wobbled slightly as he moved. A little brown stain was starting to soak through. He looked round warily, then grinned as he saw me stroking myself. The sight of him in his dirty pants was so hot, and I couldn't resist starting to wank. He went to take them down.
`Have you finished?'
`No, but I can hold it now. Mmm, you enjoyed watching me shit my pants, didn't you?'
`Yes! Go on, finish off now. You might as well, and then you can show me what you've done. Come on, let me see you finish your big smelly shit in your pants.'
He looked dubious, but then he shrugged, put his hands on his knees and strained visibly. He farted into his turds, all muffled and wet, and his head went down and he sighed in relief as he pushed out a load more. The lump swelled up and sagged to the right with a gorgeous squishing noise. He paused, grunting, and did a bit more.
`I'm done. Now, come and kneel behind me.'
I watched close up as he pulled down his pants. His lower crack and buttocks were smeared brown and the smell hit me afresh; not one of his stronger ones, but rich and thick and satisfying. Slowly he lowered the mess to the floor and stepped out of it. He watched and stroked his dick as I bent to examine his squashed turds close up, and drink in the heady pong. He put a hand on the back of my neck and pushed my face closer in, until my nose was almost touching his shit and the warmth and smell overpowered me.
Clean my ass for me,' he hissed. This is your fault. You got me into this, and now you can sort it out. No, not with the bog roll, let's see if your face is as good at being the paper as it is at being the toilet. Now, close your eyes and get ready.'
I closed my eyes, clamped my mouth shut, took a deep breath and leaned in towards him. For his part, he bowed his legs out and stuck his bum out. His crack came closer and closer. I could sense its filthiness and the smell overpowered me again. Then here he was, grinding his arse in my face, rubbing it up and down, smearing it with his shit. My nose was right in his hole, worrying into the place from which this stinking, lovely mess had come from, and then away again as he turned to wipe his bum on my cheek. Eventually he stepped forward, leaving me gasping for breath, eyes still tight shut.
There,' he breathed hoarsely above me. That's better. Mmm, you clean my ass good. Now, you pervert, I want to see your face properly covered before I wank off over you. Get ready...'
I almost panicked, wondering what he was going to do. His hand was on the back of my head again, pushing me down towards the floor and back down to his shitty pants. He held me down over it for a long time, forcing me to breathe in his stink, then pushed me down and rubbed my nose in his excrement. It was firm and slimy, cooling now. He began talking dirty as he did it; pure filth coming from his mouth, telling me what a disgusting pervert I was and how I deserved nothing better than a face-full of his turds, but all I could do in reply was whimper and try not to cum. I wasn't even touching my dick, but I was horned beyond belief. He let me up for air, told me to breathe in deep, and then stuffed my face right into it. It squashed everywhere; all over my mouth and cheeks and chin; slimy and lumpy and horrible. I hated it, and yet as he kept telling me what a filthy bastard I was I worshipped him for it too. Then he let go again and I straightened up, fighting for breath through a nose half-blocked with shit.
`Now, stay there, cunt.'
He began to wank, grunting and sighing louder and louder as I did the same, until at the very moment I came all over the floor he cried aloud and spurted massively all over my brown face.
Oh fuck, I'm sorry,' he said softly. Got carried away. Come on, over here. I'll help you clean up. You go first; you need it more than me.'
We showered together, for the first time, him washing his backside only after he'd made sure my face was clean. He kept on apologising for what he'd done, even though I told him he had nothing to be sorry for, and afterwards he took me to the pub and bought several pints to make up. Later I walked back to the house that still stank, musing on how much his abusive top side turned me on, but how underneath it he was basically a kind-hearted lad who could shock himself with how far he was prepared to go. I realised suddenly that in the weirdest and most futile of ways I realised I'd become very fond of him. Yet he'd said before he'd felt bad about what we'd done together afterwards, and that at some point he'd try to stop, and I just hoped that wouldn't be soon. I wondered how he saw it.
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