The Scat Chronicles Pt. 02

He pounds her, grunting like an animal, and then out of nowhere stops. "I'm so close to coming. Where do you want me to come?"

"Baby, I want you to come anywhere you want," she offers.

"Can I come on your face?"

"Of course you can come on my face," she says. He slowly pulls out and she whips around and guides him to the toilet. Sitting down, she grabs his dick, deftly yanking his tool until it stiffens, ready to blow.

"Yes," he moans, arching his back.

"That's it," she coos in heat. "Give me that cum. Make my face nice and messy."

His dick twitches and spurts like a water gun, showering her with thin, runny sperm. She holds her mouth open for him, and one shot hits the back of her throat directly, the rest making a shiny mess of her face and tits.

"Oh God," he shudders as she slows her strokes and plants her lips around him one more time, lovingly easing her mouth back and forth. "Thank you so much."

"And thank you," she says, giving him a kiss on the cock.

He blows out a long breath. "What now?"

She stands up, her balance just a little unsteady. "I'm going to find Mark. You should join us when you're ready." With that, she leaves the bathroom. As she heads back to the living room, she hears faint moans and grunts, and as she comes around the corner, she finds Mark lying on his back. He has a tablet propped up on his stomach, and he's slowly stroking his cock to a video of a woman taking it up the ass. "I see you're ready for action again," she observes.

He looks over at her and turns the thing off, tossing it to the side and sitting up. "It looks like you and Sam had a good time in there."

"We did," she assures, standing over him.

"You let him come on your face?" he asks. She nods. "I hope I get the same courtesy."

"Of course," she says as she turns around and lowers her body, reaching between her legs to find his cock. With a firm grip on his fleshy pipe, she gives it a couple of tugs before coming down and sliding her box over him, all the way to his balls. "Fuck, you're deep," she moans.

"That's right. I'm buried deep in your cunt," he grunts as she rocks her hips back and forth.

She leans forward, resting her hands on his knees, and puts her ass and thigh muscles to use as she bounces up and down. Lost in the ecstatic feeling of his pole slamming in and out of her body, she almost doesn't catch the stiff cock marching around the corner of the room, followed by its owner.

Sam walks up to the two of them, stopping short to stand and observe, and she grabs him and pulls him in close. Holding her body steady, Mark takes over fucking duties, thrusting up into her as she wraps her mouth around Sam's swollen prick, throwing her head forward and backward like a cock-sucking machine.

"I'm going to come," Mark warns.

She pushes Sam away. "You'll get your turn in a second, baby," she assures. Hopping off of Mark's dick, she finds herself on her knees for the second time that evening. "My body is your canvas," she announces with her arms spread.

Mark gets into position above her face and growls as he strokes the cum from his balls. She feels a load of thick, warm spunk land right between her eyebrows. It drips down into her eye as another shot hits her cheek. From there, she takes over, jacking Mark's cock all over her face like a baker decorating a cake.

"You're a mess," Mark observes at last. "Do you want a towel or something?"

"Not yet," she replies. "In fact, do me a favor and grab my phone from my purse. I want you to take a picture."

"Are you serious?" he asks.

"Oh yes. I want to show my husband how much fun I've been having." Mark shrugs, locates her purse, and fishes her phone from deep inside. "Get a close-up of my face," she directs. He snaps the picture, and she sends it to Ricky.

She just barely sets the phone down when Sam taps her on the shoulder and she looks up at him. "Ready to drop another load on my face?"

"Not your face," he breathes as he beats his shaft. "I want to come on your asshole."

"Oh, I like that," she says. Dropping her head to the floor, she reaches behind and spreads her cheeks. "Do it Sam," she encourages. "Blow that load on my filthy shithole." She feels the head of his cock on her brown eye. "I want you picturing everything that we talked about in the bathroom while you do it," she adds.

"Way ahead of you," he manages, and she feels his cock twitch, feels his warm goo run down her snatch and over her clit. The sensation sets her off, and time slows as a tidal wave of orgasmic bliss pounds her body into the carpet.

***

"Hey there, I just got into town. Are you guys at home?"

Morgan makes an involuntary squeak of excitement at the sound of her best friend Stephanie's voice. "Oh sweetie, you're here! I can't wait to see you!" she says into her phone as she passes under a yellow light. It's the morning after her visit with Mark and Sam. "I don't know about Ricky, but I'm heading home right now. I should be there any minute."

"I'll be waiting," Stephanie says. "Kisses."

Morgan gives a smooch into the receiver and disconnects, her smile a mile wide as she banks right off of Walnut and hits the accelerator. Stephanie moved to Indianapolis last year, and Morgan hasn't seen her in over a month, though it feels much longer than that. Recently, she was able to clear some time in her schedule, and now she's comes down for the weekend.

Pulling up to her house, she spots a Navajo white GMC in Ricky's usual spot, and standing next to the vehicle with her arms crossed in a no-nonsense stance, a woman dressed in strappy high-heeled sandals, a flared white mini skirt, and a cropped black T shirt. She's got a dancer's body and dirty blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail, and there's a pair of large, retro-style sunglasses perched on her Grecian nose.

Morgan parks, hops out of her car, and trots over to her friend, throwing her arms around her in a big hug. "Oh, I've missed you."

"Ditto," Stephanie says. "Let's go inside. It's getting hot out here."

"Do you need help with your bags?" Morgan asks.

"I'll take care of them later. Right now, I could use a cup of coffee."

"That's a fabulous idea," Morgan seconds as she turns for the front door. "Ricky texted me before you called," she says as she works the key, struggling with the stuck lock. "I told him to be home by noon."

"That works for me," Stephanie replies as Morgan finally manages to push the door open.

Once inside, they head straight for the kitchen, and Morgan wastes no time in grabbing a pair of thick white coffee mugs from a cabinet above the stove. She pulls down a coffee grinder and a French press too, and turns to Stephanie, who takes off her sunglasses and sets them on the counter, revealing a pair of cool grey eyes. "There's whole coffee beans in the freezer. Do you mind grabbing them for me?"

"Sure thing. That's fancy," Stephanie comments with a nod to the ensemble that Morgan has culled together.

"Ricky got me these for my birthday," Morgan explains. "You won't believe how much better coffee tastes when it's freshly ground."

Stephanie walks over to the stainless steel fridge and pulls open the bottom freezer drawer, locating the coffee beans and handing them to Morgan. She pops open the refrigerator doors too, scanning the items until she hits on one in particular. "Can I have some of this hummus?" she asks, pointing to a plastic container.

Morgan nods. "Of course, but be careful with that stuff. It has garlic in it," she warns, thinking back to a party last year, where Stephanie ate something with garlic and turned their car into a gas chamber on the way home.

"I'm thinking that Ricky might appreciate some stinky farts," Stephanie explains.

"You nasty little slut," Morgan kids as she scoops coffee beans into the grinder.

The coffee is ready in ten minutes time, and the two sit down at a small oak breakfast table, steaming mugs in hand. Stephanie runs a cracker through the hummus and pops it into her mouth. "Hey, how's the writing going?" she asks Morgan through crunches.

"Not well," Morgan says. "It's not going well at all."

"Do you regret leaving that job at the bank?" Stephanie asks.

"All the time," Morgan says. "Looking back, I must have been delusional, thinking that I could make money writing."

"Of course you can make money writing!" her friend proclaims. "Lots of people do it. You've just got to stick with it for a while. Have you published anything?"

"Here and there, though not for money," she says.

"Well, like I said, that kind of thing takes time."

"Here's the problem." Morgan explains. "I really love writing, but whenever I sit down, I can't seem to write about anything but scat."

"So, what's wrong with that?" Stephanie asks. "They always say that you should write what you know."

"True, but I'd like to get paid to do it, and there just isn't a huge market for that kind of thing." Morgan slurps her coffee. "If I don't figure something out, I'll have to look for another job soon."

Stephanie crunches another cracker. "Well, Ricky makes plenty of money. You two should be able to get by on his salary alone."

"I know," Morgan says, "but I'm going to feel lousy if I don't start to contribute. And here's another thing, I can't go back to banking. I need something that will let me express my creativity."

"I get that," Stephanie replies, scooping up a third heaping of hummus.

"Sweetie, I love a ripe fart, but if you keep eating those, you're going to make yourself sick," Morgan points out.

"You're right," Stephanie agrees. "I'd better quit while I'm ahead." She pops the cracker into her mouth and snaps the lid on the container, pushing it out of reach.

The minutes drift by as they finish their cups, and Morgan pours her friend a second cup, and then pours herself some more. "How's life in Indy?" she asks as she sits down again.

Stephanie shrugs. "Same old stuff. I like my new job, though."

"Seeing anybody?" Morgan inquires.

"I've gone on some dates, but nothing too serious. I need to do what you did."

"And what did I do?"

"You found a man who's as big a pervert as you are. That's what I need."

"Those are few and far in between," Morgan says. "I really lucked out when I met Ricky."

"Fucking-A," Stephanie seconds.

An idea smacks Morgan in the brain, and she lights up. "Oh, you know what? I met a guy last night, and he might be perfect for you."

"Get out of town," Stephanie says, playfully punching Morgan's arm. "Do you have details?"

"I've got plenty of them," she says. "His name is Sam, for starters, and he's pretty cute."

"Is he a pervert?"

"It sounds like he's into scat. I mean, I don't think he's ever done it before, but he seems very receptive. He really liked it when I pissed and farted on him."

"A scat newbie, huh?" Stephanie ponders. "This sounds like fun, Morgan. We'll have to take it easy on him, though," she observes. "We don't want to scare him away."

"I'll handle that," Morgan says. "Just give me some time alone with him first, and then we'll see what happens."

Stephanie opens her mouth to say something, when the front door opens, and they hear Ricky's voice. "Are you guys in the bedroom?"

"We're in the kitchen," Morgan calls back, and she perks up in surprise when Ricky comes around the corner with a gorgeous young brunette in tow. She studies the girl, and a feeling of vague remembrance washes over her.

She's seen her before, but where?