Ready, Set, Go! Pt. 02: Amy

My roommate Jocelyn and I are lovers, have been since the night I returned early from a disappointing date with my then-boyfriend Terry. It was then we also discovered we were both infatuated with and passionate indulgers in the scat fetish. When I walked back into the apartment that night, Jocelyn was engaged in a solo scat session on her bed: she had defecated and was in the process of smearing her waste all over her body, carried away with the pleasurable sensations and erotic stimulation this act provided her. It thrilled me so much to see her like this, and I soon convinced her to let me join in with her. That we shared the same scat cravings and at the same extreme intensity soon became apparent as we made love to one another covered in each other's shit and piss. That sounds blunt and crass and maybe even disgusting, but it's what we did, and what we enjoyed beyond measure. It brought us to the heights of sexual fulfillment, as it continues to do every time we engage in it. It is the glue that has bonded us together. Jocelyn has had the opportunity to reveal how her love for scat came about; this is my story.

My father died in a car accident when I was two, and I never really knew him. My mother doted on me and we were always very close. Her best friend Carol and her husband Mickey lived just across the road, and they were like an extended family. When I was a freshman in college my mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died the following year. After her diagnosis she made sure her finances were in order and that my college expenses would be taken care of.

Carol and Mickey were so like family to me that we all agreed I would move in with them when the time came; since I would be going away to college this basically meant I would be living there only when school wasn't in session. Mickey owned a string of successful clothing stores throughout the Mid-Atlantic region, and offered me a part-time position during the school year (full time during the summers) in one of the stores so I could make money for myself. One summer he allowed me to work behind the scenes in the bookkeeping department, which actually earned me a couple of college credits, thanks to a special program they had.

But it was Carol I naturally gravitated to. She was in her early forties, looked twenty years younger and beautiful (top-of-the-shoulder length dirty blonde hair, green eyes, gorgeous skin and figure), was outgoing and vivacious. She and my mother were like sisters, and as I got older, I was made to feel like one of their cohorts. It was always a lot of fun and very grown-up for me. To walk into her house, say "Hi," and give her a big hug and kiss like I would my mother was not at all unusual. A few times late in my teenage years, I walked in at "inconvenient" times when she and Mickey were making love in their bedroom, and she would hear me and just holler, "Go away, you!" and I would laugh and apologize and leave. No big deal, just a fact of life. But that was typical of our open and relaxed relationship.

She took a great interest in me after my mother died, especially regarding my experiences at college, which went beyond how well the studies were going. She also wanted all the dirt regarding my social life: who I was dating, were they sexy, how wild were the parties, and so on. I often thought she was reliving her own college memories through my experiences, and got the feeling she thought college was a time and place to be a little crazy and not be afraid to explore new things. Sexual things. Not to be reckless and self-destructive and totally irresponsible, but to discover things about yourself that may prove useful. I found I could tell her everything and wouldn't be judged, and even better, not lectured to. I told her once about an off-campus party I'd gone to that turned into a near-orgy, and she countered it with a story of her own very similar and with all the graphic details included that made my story, despite some pretty wild sex scenes, look tame.

I remember how interested she was in the time I went camping at a state park with three other girls where we all slept in the same tent and spent most of the nights having sex with one another. Carol (and Mickey, too) was not at all prudish, and same-sex relationships did not faze her at all. She often wondered how women sharing rooms in college dormitories, for example, weren't more sexually active with each other, if just in an experimental capacity, than survey figures seemed to indicate. I recall I was half-lying on the couch with my bare feet resting on a stack of magazines on the coffee table (my mother would have yelled at me for that, even at my age now), as I was telling her all about that camping trip, and how she moved next to me and slid my bare legs (I was wearing cutoffs at the time) onto her lap. She hung on my every word and stroked my legs. She might have been trying to be discreet, but she was failing miserably. I liked the feeling, though, and had no compunction to move away. Carol had always been on the lovey-dovey side with me, but it seemed obvious that she was openly testing the sexual boundaries. Nothing more happened with us then, but I thought I would be willing if she decided to go down that avenue sometime in the future.

One summer night after a party that wasn't that terrific, and that culminated in rather unsatisfying bang-bang sex with a half-drunken guy, I went home. Mickey was out of town on a business trip, and Carol from her bedroom heard me come in, saw I wasn't in the best of spirits, and invited me in. It seemed clear she didn't want to just talk and comfort me, but I was pretty sure I wanted what she was going to offer.

"Are you decent under that dress?" she asked offhandedly, as only Carol would.

"Yes, of course," I replied, chuckling.

"Good. Take it off and get in here with me. Let's talk." So I slipped it and my shoes off and, wearing only my bra and panties, crawled into bed with her.

We talked about this, that, and whatnot, so easy for us, and after a pause, she kissed me. I kissed her back and we hugged, and I felt like I was outside myself looking at myself being guided by Carol. She suggested we get naked, and we did. She always had a way of making me feel she was bringing me into her world; she never condescended to me in terms of age or experience, just assumed we were equals. She was very confident and sure of herself, and made me feel that way, too. She quickly pulled off her short nightie and helped me with my bra and panties.

Although it wasn't the first time I'd seen her naked body, it was the first time I'd been in such intimate proximity to it. We hugged again, our bodies making contact much more than the first time. Our tits touched and our nipples grew hard. She rolled partly on top of me and kissed me forcibly, her tongue going deep in my mouth, our hands rubbing each other hungrily. We began making love, our bodies sliding against each other. My tits were on fire from her sucking and handling. I tried to remember camping with those three other girls and realized this was a thousand times better; Carol did things with her mouth and fingers I'd never experienced before. I was learning new, sensual things about my body as well as what to do to satisfy her. I never felt so thrilled and sexy in my life.

She worked her way down my torso with her mouth and tongue until she reached my pussy. She licked all around my sopping lips before plunging inside me. She tongued me softly and then hard until I thought I would scream to wake the neighborhood. Then she licked my asshole, putting her tongue deep inside. No one had ever done that before, and I wanted to scream even louder. When she finished, with a deft move she arranged her pussy over my mouth facing backwards, and told me to lick her. My tongue was bathed with her cunt juices and I licked her pussy walls and then her clit. She moaned softly, then louder, and I felt her cunt shudder on my face. This just made her more fired up and ecstatic, and she spread open her ass cheeks and moved back a few inches to place her anus over my mouth. "Fuck my ass with your tongue, Amy, tongue-fuck my asshole." This was another first for me as well, and I licked all around her rosebud, apprehensive at first about what I would encounter taste-wise, and then plunged inside. There was no taste to speak of, other than a little sweat. She fingered my pussy as I did this and soon we both climaxed again.

Exhausted, we got into each other's arms on the bed and spent the next few minutes telling each other how wonderful it was (certainly true for me, though I don't know about her, considering her experience and my basic lack of same). It was very pleasant holding her and being in her arms, very soothing while at the same time thrilling.

Our emotions slowly subsided and our caresses became less exuberant until we were just holding hands. "Can I tell you a secret?" Carol said to me, putting her arm around me again and stroking my hair. "Considering what just happened, how wonderful it was, at least for me, and how I hope it continues, this is something I think you should know. It's about your mother."

"What about her?" I asked.

She looked at me carefully, as if weighing a decision in her mind. "Betty spent many an hour in this bed right where you're lying now."

It was a little shocking to hear that, but not devastating by any means. Knowing how close my mother was to Carol, how so much of their lives intertwined, it made sense that two such sexy, outgoing women might have a relationship deeper than just friendship. I've already said how brazen and unabashed Carol was, how most things sexual didn't bother her. My mother, now that I thought about it, must have shared her views or why would they remain such close friends? That they had sex together, two women, did not concern me, and acting like it should would only make me a hypocrite, seeing I was lying in Carol's arms myself right then. "You and she were lovers?" I said.

"Yes," Carol answered, relief and trepidation mixed in her tone. "Sometimes with Mickey, too, the three of us."

"Ah," I mumbled, not knowing what else to say. That certainly added to the dynamics of what she was asking me to comprehend: my mother engaged in threesomes with her best friend and her husband. I felt the news sink into my consciousness like a weight, but no emotional bells sounded. Perhaps if I had known my father better that protective outrage that daughters can exhibit defending their fathers when they feel they've been exploited, especially if it's by their mothers, may have kicked in, but that wasn't the case here. So I said, "And you are telling me this now because..."

"Well, as I said, if we're going to begin a relationship deeper than ever before, I don't want any secrets interfering with its development. They can be very destructive. Besides, we talked about it sometimes, she and I, and I'm pretty sure she was going to tell you herself when you turned 18 and went off to college. She wasn't ever a big fan of secrets, either. But then she got ill and her time just slipped away before she could."

"How do you know she didn't?"

"It was one of the last things she told me."

Lying there in Carol's arms, there was only one thing I could think of that caused just the slightest unease. I said, "I've got to admit it feels a little strange how I'm sharing you with her, such a close intimacy. Does that feel strange to you?"

Carol thought for a moment before speaking. "I don't feel like I'm sharing you with her. I loved Betty in every way, but she's gone now, unfortunately. I love you, too, Amy, have since you were a little kid. But those feelings are different now, at least have another layer added to them. Maybe for you, too." She paused for a moment and then continued, "The thought of having a relationship with you has crossed my mind several times, even though I'm much older than you. You display your sexuality so openly, listening to you relate your experiences makes me think we share so much of what's important deep inside of us. This just feels so natural to me."

"Yeah," I said. "I've felt that sometimes from you, the way you touch me, how you hang on my every word when I'm telling you about a party or date. I also decided, I think, that I would be open to going down that path with you if you desired. Just to see what would happen."

She laughed and said she was glad her actions hadn't frightened me away. Everything she said seemed true, and I closed my eyes, my cheek resting on her bare breast. It was warm and soft, and I felt safe and very loved.

I might have dozed off briefly, but I soon realized that Carol was stroking my hair again and gently kissing my face. I responded, of course, and put my arms around her as I kissed her on the mouth, pushing my tongue through her lips. We held our kiss for quite a while, and then Carol broke it off, smiled, sat up and finally got off the bed, and told me to follow her. She took me into her custom designed, very large bathroom and said, "Let's take a shower."

We got under the oversized showerhead and the warm water began cascading over us; we held each other, kissed each other's tits, felt each other's pussies, stroked each other everywhere. After we were thoroughly soaked and very aroused, Carol turned the water off and retrieved what looked like a gymnast's mat, about 6-foot square, that was leaning against the far wall and placed it on the shower floor. She then grabbed my hands and pulled me down onto it. Again we hugged each other and rubbed our wet bodies over each other, laughing and playing together: I would try to kiss her, but she wouldn't let me; she would put her hand on my pussy, and I'd knock it away. Finally, she got me on my back while she straddled my stomach and said, "Gotcha now, you lose, and here's your punishment." And I felt something warm and wet spread over my tits and belly.

"Are you peeing on me?" I chastised her in mock horror. I didn't find this appalling or disgusting in any way, had sometimes peed on myself in the bathtub when I felt particularly horny, relishing the warm liquid flowing across my skin.

"You bet I am," she replied, and directed her flow onto my chin, soaking me. When she was done, she suddenly got very serious and laid her tits onto mine and kissed me deeply and passionately on my mouth. With her right hand she spread her piss over my body and then brought her dripping fingers to my lips and told me to taste. I opened my mouth and she thrust her fingers in as I licked them greedily. I felt as if I was losing control of myself, kissing her wildly now, begging her for more of her pee in my mouth. But Carol seemed totally bonkers with lust.

She suddenly turned me over on my stomach and raised my ass into the air. I felt her tongue raking my ass crack from top to bottom, and then plowing into my anus. When I was sopping wet from her saliva she plunged a finger into my asshole as far as it would go, and then she worked it in and out. My whole body felt on fire and I kept pushing back onto her finger. But it was also making me feel the urge to defecate and I told her so, how I needed to use the toilet.

"Do you like the way my finger makes you feel?" she asked.

"I love the way it feels. Let me just go shit and you can definitely put it back in again."

"Maybe I should give you an enema. Clean you out completely."

I giggled a little and said, "That seems a bit much, I'm sure." I tried to get up, but she held me down.

"Later, maybe. I'm glad you like my finger in your ass, Amy, and it's making you want to shit. I was hoping it would."

Laughing broader this time, I added, "You're really obsessed with my needing to shit, Carol. What gives?"

"Do I seem that way to you? I guess I am."

"Carol," I said, "just let me get up and poop and I'll be right back."

She finally removed her finger from my ass. "I don't mind if you just shit right here, Amy. Really, just do it."

"On the floor of the shower... Are you serious?"

"Very serious," she responded. "Do it, Amy. Shit for me right here, I want you to."

"Carol..." I began.

"I peed on you and we played with it, you drank it even, now I want your shit to touch and play with. Please, Amy. I would love that."

She sounded dead serious and I turned around to face her, sitting. "What the fuck! Really, Carol? Why would you want me to do that?"

"I've shocked you," Carol said. "I knew I would and I'm sorry. It's called scat, shit-play, like we did with my pee. Some people can really get off on it. Me included."

"You do? How?"

"It's a fetish, just an overpowering craving to use shit as a sexy turn-on."

I tried picturing this in my mind, but it seemed so taboo, so objectionable, I couldn't manage it. "You do this? And Mickey, too?"

"Yes," she answered. She acted as if she were about to say more but stopped.

"What, Carol, what else were you going to say?" She didn't respond, just stared at me. "You said you didn't want any secrets between us," I added. "What aren't you telling me."

"I wonder if you've already guessed."

"Guessed what? Tell me, please."

"That your mother did, too."

This might have been the last thing I could ever have guessed. "You're telling me my mother loved having shit smeared all over herself and got off on it, is that what you're saying? I don't believe you." I just sat there staring at her. As a 20-year-old at the time, I thought I'd had my fair share of experiences and could easily imagine things I hadn't done, but this was beyond both my experience and comprehension. And that my mother was involved in it? No way.

"Whether you believe it or not doesn't change the truth of it," she said. She was not being glib or arrogant, just her usual very confident and honest self. I trusted Carol, knew she wouldn't try to hurt me or lie to me, but this was hard to understand.

"Why?" I asked. "I mean, why do it? How..."

Carol heard me floundering and said, "Let me tell you about Mickey and me. It was a few years after we were married. We were both rather drunk after a party, and were horny as hell when we got home. He was fucking me, we were having anal sex, when suddenly I felt the need to go, just like you did, but he kept on fucking me until I just shit all over his cock. I was embarrassed, of course, but he loved it so much, told me he had fantasized about us doing that and hoped I might be willing. He explained why he loved it and why I might love it, and he was right. The sheer nastiness and dirty excitement of it is irresistible. It takes me sexually to places I never thought possible."

"And with my mother?"

She thought for a moment. "If you mean how it all started, it was during a threesome we were having. We had just finished and were recuperating, and I was just sitting on Mickey's chest facing backwards when I felt the need to defecate. With your mother there I thought should I hold it, go to the bathroom, or just do it, shit right on him. I had done just that many times by then, when the two of us were alone, and the fact that Betty was there now excited me in a perverse sort of way. If I did it what would her reaction be? Disgust? Curiosity? Indifference? She was no shrinking violet, your mother, and enjoyed sex to its fullest in all its variety. And Mickey and I craved scat play so much, well, suppose, I thought, just suppose..."

"And?"

"To my utter surprise she was overawed by it, watched me shit and spread it on my tits and belly, and soon wanted to touch it with me, to help me. She loved it, it was like some explosive force going off inside her, she said, like a powerful drug suddenly kicking in. Soon she was smearing it on herself, intoxicated by the smell and feel of it on her skin. The three of us were quickly involved and then Mickey shit and soon Betty did, too. She did everything we did, including when we put it in our mouths." This sounded like way too much information deliberately delivered to shock.