Share Everything DisgracefulbyLearningfast©
It's Friday, and everything is ready. On the floor of the spare room is an inflated paddling pool. The sort of thing you have for the kids, but this is a good size. About 10 feet long and 6 feet wide; and inflated fully to give a nice soft floor with 12-inch high walls. No water, but a soft fluffy duvet on the inflated floor and a waterproof bed sheet over it. You know the sort of thing; cotton next to your skin but a waterproof backing. A trail of big towels leads from this pool to the nearby bathroom; and to the edge of the shower-bath.
Over this floor arrangement is a gantry I built during the previous week. It is about 8ft high [OK, OK about 2.5 metres]; as far as I can reach stretching up. Sitting in the gantry, on a circular frame I formed specially, is a white plastic 5 gallon container [OK, OK about 23 litres] with its spout pointing downwards. Well; it may have been white when I first got it but now it's full of a fluid that makes it look yellowy-browny-greeny-creamy.
From the screw-on cap on this inverted container comes a one-inch clear plastic pipe. Actually, I got it from the garden centre down the road from my place. I think it's used for irrigation, hydroponics and so on. Here, it's about 6 feet long and terminates at an in-line tap with two narrower outlets. I'll describe those outlets later.
I know exactly what is going to happen to me and Dixie; but she doesn't. Perhaps she has some idea, but not the detail. Little does she realise that all this comes from an idea she whispered to me over 6 months ago. Man; am I going to enjoy it. Not sure about her, though.
*****Just a thought*****
I've often discovered that women can be more exploratory and imaginative than men when it comes to weird sex. We guys are sometimes fixated on wham-bam, deep breathing, coming-coming-coming, swoosh-squirt, wow!
Women have often surprised me by saying, "Tonight can we try this....?" Or "Will you do this for me...?" And often, it's been something much more interesting and exciting than I had in mind. That's how I first experienced fisting; when a woman led me into it. And rubber and Spandex. And ropes. I just love imaginative women and there's no shortage of them -- all outside marriage I have to say.
Well, with my latest friend Dixie, I learned about the bathroom. One evening, I said, "I'll just go pee" and she says, "I'll come with you. Can I hold you to pee?" So that's what she did. I stood there and she controlled my hosepipe.
We moved on from that to my holding her vagina while she sat and emptied her bladder; then to making love on a plastic-backed sheet with us both peeing on each other. Of course, Dixie could pee on me while I was under her and she sat on my erection. It was more difficult for me to pee in her when erect; because of the valve arrangement, I suppose. But even that I taught myself to do when half-erect, so she could feel the pressure and fullness before it forced out past me. During those weekends, we would have the washing machine going three times a day.
At Dixie's suggestion also, we progressed to collecting urine for a day and then giving each other enemas. Me one time and she the next. It was all very exciting and very naughty. We had to go the whole way, didn't we?
So one day she says, "I'm going to catch your poop as it comes out." The next time I sat down, she knelt in front of me with a hand between my legs and with a big piece of kitchen tissue. And so she caught it as it came out of me, with no comment about smell or any sense of disgust. She simply found it fascinating. At her suggestion, I did the same later when she pooped. We simply let it down into the bowl and flushed as usual, but we had held each other's turds and enjoyed it. After a quick wash, we always had wonderful sex with that memory obviously fresh in her mind. Often towards the end of our love-making, she would rollover and say, "Now I'm empty up there, come in my bowel now" and I did of course. Always, she would press a big butt-plug into me before I mounted her buttocks, so that I could feel full instead of empty. And feel the pressure on my prostate. Our orgasms were stratospheric. By the way, Dixie never used coarse expressions: for her, the correct words were "bowels," "vagina," "clitoris" and "penis." Such an unusual and very intimate expression of her eroticism and my curiosity.
We would lie there afterwards with her bottom slowly oozing my juices and me clutching at her vagina with two or three fingers inside; and she playing and tugging gently at my big butt-plug when she could reach it.
We became expert in the size, shape and texture of each other's dung. For the catching game, we liked good solid turds that sat in our hands like little trophies.
For two years, we explored each other and learned new ways to experiment with this feature of our relationship; always with her driving it forward. Women are wonderful at exploration, once they get the yearning for it.
*****This past week*****
And now we were about to achieve our peak [or maybe rock bottom!] in this experience and it goes like this.
From Tuesday to Friday this week, we both ate "loose" food. Cereal, bread and soup, pasta, noodles, salads, soft fruits with yoghurt ... you know the kind of thing. No meats, no root vegetables, no heavy puddings. Also, we both drank at a least 2 litres [3½ pints] of liquids each day; coffee, tea, juice, plain water, beer. You can imagine what happened during those four days. We peed every hour and enjoyed "helping" each other every time. And our intestines filled with paste, with sludge, with something-like-blancmange.
The clever part was preventing our bowels from emptying until the time was right each day; so we both wore a solid butt-plug. Dixie's gradually increased over the first 2 days days from her usual 1½ -inch cone to a 2½ -inch bullet shape that was 4 inches long. I put them into her and we enjoyed that all by itself. Of course, I filled her vagina from behind each time, also, whenever I was erect and she was positioned.
And she put my biggest butt-plug in me. This was the 3-inch Doc Johnson Ace-of-Spades; it took her a full 45 minutes to get it into me the first time. Constantly lubricating me and pressing and urging me with her gentle voice. Until it popped in and I gave out an involuntary, "Aaaargh."
So we've both been totally closed in the anal department and waiting until each evening for our emptying. I rigged up a ringed padded seat over a big funnel into the plastic tub. Each evening, we've both had a suppository inserted. Then, after the 45-minute wait, taken turns to crouch over the funnel and we've emptied our intestines of the paste, the sludge, the something-like-blancmange. You can imagine our conversations.
"Lean that way," I said as I urged the plug from her rectum, "be ready for the flood."
"Yes," she said, "Oooh; here it comes. Am I standing in the right place?"
And so I would hold her in the right place, with her legs wide apart and the content of her bowels flooded out into the funnel and joining the earlier offerings in the big plastic tub. Then she would do the same for me.
"Don't push," she would say each time, "I want to control the plug and the flow. Slow. Slow."
I would try to hold everything in place until the Doc Johnson popped out and then let go the torrent from my colon.
We've been so excited. Any escape of odours has gone un-noticed. Slowly, we've been filling the plastic drum and quickly screwed the stopper back into place. The more we've eaten, the greater the quantity in the drum.
After each bowel-emptying session, we've replaced our butt-plugs, showered and gone straight into the bedroom. And Dixie has gone straight into her tightest corset. And she's stayed in it for the rest of the night; until the next time we ate something. She's pulled and levered her waist to its smallest ever measurement and I've held onto that waist as I've shagged her into unconsciousness and until I was exhausted. We've never known such unrestrained passion and physicality. All because of her corsetry and the knowledge of what was coming in a few hours time.
*****Now it's today*****
For just yesterday and today, we also peed into the tub; just to make sure it wasn't getting settled or solid. I guess we peed 4 litres into it this past 24 hours.
And now the tub is installed in its frame above the pool. I guess there'll be 3 gallons of semi-solid waste and another gallon of urine; say 18 litres in total. It's cold and it's marbled in appearance; layers of different colours but all unmistakable dung, poop, ordure, excrement, crap, shit and pee. As I lifted it earlier, and turned it over into its frame, it all got nicely mixed.
We're both empty, except for our butt-plugs, and Dixie is tight in the second-best corset. Her waist is amazing; I think I could hold her in my fingers so it must be only 18 or 19 inches round. I lead her to the pool-bed and help her lie down. She needs that help when she's laced this tightly. She has a pillow under her shoulders and a bigger one behind her head, so she's very comfortable in a reclining position. My erection is growing.
"Lie back and open wide," I say, and she opens her legs as wide as the corset will allow.
I reach to the side and find one of the narrower pipes from the tap on the big pipe to the raised tub. I can tell by the feel of it that it's hers. It has a drilled 2½ inch sphere on the end, with the thinner pipe running through it. I spent hours drilling that silicone sphere and gluing the pipe into it. So first I slowly pull out the plug that's in her, helped by the pressure in her abdomen from the corset.
Then I offer the pipe-ball against her anus. A gently push and I can see that it will go, with some urging from me and relaxation on her part.
"Breathe deep," I say softly, "push a little, open up and take this in. OK?"
"Mmm," she mumbles, "but what are you doing with all that stuff up there?" She indicated with her chin the filled container 8 feet above us. Her hands are down by her hips, holding herself against my pressing.
"Close your eyes, dear," I say, "and let's put this into you first. Then I'll explain."
"Mmm. OK," she agrees. Her eyes close and she pressed down with her rectum so that the sphere slowly passes through the outer sphincter, and settles inside her, behind the second sphincter. She relaxes and smiles gently to herself.
My erection is pulsing and almost painful.
"Now it's my turn," I say to her, reaching behind me for my own pipe-ball; mine's 3 inches across.
I take hold of the flange on my own butt-plug and let it push itself out with my gently pulling. It pops out and immediately I press the pipe-ball in its place. They are the same size, and it settles into me where the other had been. I can feel it stretching my bowel up behind the second sphincter -- a feeling I've come to enjoy and seek out whenever possible. This reminds me of a young woman I once knew who said, "I want to get to the stage where I can't use the toilet normally any more. I want to be opened so wide that the plug is a absolutely necessity. And then we can wash me out each evening with a water jet." Well, I know that desire although I've not attained it myself.
Now we're both connected up to the big plastic container. I lean forward and enter her with my erection. She swivels her hips a little so that I can get into her with no hands to guide me -- a trick we've developed over the past 2 years.
I start moving in her and she relaxes back to feel me pressing in her and against the big ball-plug in her rectum. She is so wet with her own excitement and I think tight corsets always do that to her. Her eyes are closed.
While I'm shagging slowly and deliberately into her, I reach round and open the tap on the end of the big pipe coming from the plastic tub. Two things happen. First, the air in all the pipes ascends towards the big tub. Second, the contents start to descend towards Dixie and me. For some seconds, there is no sensation but then I feel it cool inside me as it starts to trickle into my rectum.
"What's that?" she asks and her eyes are wide open.
"We're taking some back from up there," I explain, "just relax and see how it feels."
"I can feel it. It's cold. But I can't take all that," she begins to look startled, "I'll soon be full. You will stop it from coming, won't you?"
"You won't take much," I explain, "you'll see. And I'll take much more than you anyway."
Actually, I know that the 8-foot height of the fluid would fill her against the pressure of the corset and could do real injury if I don't keep an eye on the signs. Putting it crudely, that much pressure could burst right through her bowels and fill all the space in her torso with liquid shit. It could turn her into a sewage tank. And the corset would have the effect of raising the pressure in her intestines. But she doesn't need to know all that; I will be careful to get pleasure from this; not problems and certainly not dangerous.
By this stage, I am feeling very full but I keep on shagging this shapely woman. My erection is going wild but I want to wait before I shoot my load into her. My colon is standing out against my lower ribs. The coils of my small intestine are visible under my skin. I am being blown up like a big human balloon. Dixie raises her hand and presses on my abdomen, from my ribs down towards my groin. Even that slight pressure raises a discomfort in my and I take in an involuntary breath.
"You're very full," she says, "look at you. You'll burst."
And then she thinks about herself. "I'm very full now. It's pressing on me all over. I can't breathe properly. I have to stop. Please stop now. Mt corset is so tight."
"I know your corset's tight. You look amazing." And I kneel up between her legs, with my belly swelling out in front of me, and hold her waist in my two hands while I continue shagging. My climax is coming but I was holding it back.
"Is your corset feeling tight?" I ask.
"Yes, do something," she wails, "Ooooh, oooh, aargh, AAARGH. Stop it now."
"Let's release the corset pressure," I suggest.
"Yes," and she reaches to the bow that I'd tied at the front of the corset. Little does she realise what would happen as she unties it.
She pulls on the bow and it flies open. Then the laces begin to snake round her waist as the corset expands under the internal pressure of the liquid shit she's receiving. Within a few seconds the corset has opened at the back, under her body, and the shit begins to move further up into her. Now she becomes truly agitated. She's getting hysterical.
"Wait, I'm full. I'm bulging. Stop it; I'm bursting." And she starts gulping as the shit reaches up under her ribs and the bulging intestines puts pressure on her stomach and her lungs.
Her waist is expanding before my eyes. Her breast are rising and falling with the exertion of her breathing. She's bucking back and forth as her throat gulps for air. And her stomach rebels at the unaccustomed pressure from inside. She's lifting herself off the floor of the pool and then flopping back as her body fills with the shit now that the resistance of the corset is removed.
My erection is as strong as ever and I keep up the shagging. I can feel the rising pressure inside her as well as the hard sphere that's holding back the flood of liquid excrement that transforms her.
In five minutes, she's been distorted from the curvy, fashion-model figure of a siren into a swelling, bulging and twisted bag of shit. I can feel the liquid in her rectum as I shag into her womb. She's holding her waist and her stomach, and moving her hands up and down to contain the swelling flood within her. In a few minutes she's changed from holding her splendid amazing feminine curves to pressing and gathering her swollen body as if to stop it from exploding under the internal pressure of all that sewage.
My climax is near. I can feel that I'll fill her in a few second. So I hold her waist again. What am I saying? There is no waist any more -- just a bulging floppy bag of manure between her breast and her groin. She is swelling up with the liquid dung in her intestines. And she is gulping more with eyes staring wildly, and a strange groan-cry in her throat.
"Argh-kkkhhh-ooogghh. HELP ME. Argh-kkkhhh-ooogggggghhhhhh-oooohhaaaagh." Now she's screaming.
I empty myself into her swelling interior; a minuscule amount of my fluids in her womb amidst the floods of manure in her intestines. My final thrust brings a shriek from Dixie.
I pull out from her although I want to stay in there until my erection subsides. Reaching round, I turn off the big tap on the wide pipe from the tank. I also notice that the tank is practically empty. We've taken almost all it contained. I lean forward and speak to her through her screaming and lunging.
"Hold still, it'll all come out of you now." And I reach down to pull out the pipe-ball. It is very firmly fixed into her and I need to lean back to force it to leave her. At the same time, with my other hand, I pull on my own pipe-ball. They come out of us at the same moment.
Can you imagine the deluge of liquid shit that poured out of us into the pool? Over the cotton base-sheet; over our limbs; until I'm kneeling in it and she's lying in it like a brown-green-yellow bath. And now it is steaming gently, having spent half-an-hour in our bowels. The stench is unbelievable but we take no notice. Dixie is pressing on her stomach and abdomen to force out all that she can. I stand and let it run down my legs into the pool that's formed around us.
What else is there to tell? We go together over the towel walkway to the shower-bath and clean up each other. I have an industrial suction cleaner in the garage, which soon collects the 6 gallons of dung-and-pee that was inside us. The corset is wrecked but I'll try to clean it. That's why it was her second-best corset; yes?
Then open the windows, turn on the Haze room freshener, get dressed in fresh clothes and plan something to eat. Of course, Dixie goes back into her best corset and she's glad to do it. To regain the figure she lost an hour before under the swelling pressure of so much liquid human excrement. She's relieved to have survived but also strangely excited. She comes to me during the lacing of her corset, and presses her body against me.
"My turn soon," she says and I know that means she wants an orgasm or two -- or more.
She is amazing. Women are.