The Scat Lovers Ch. 08

Warning! Extreme scat play ahead... if this offends you or is not your thing please turn around and exit now. Although each chapter can be read as a stand-alone, this is an on-going series where episodes are somewhat interlinked and are populated by recurring characters. Chapters, therefore, might be best read in order. Just a suggestion.

I called Gordon one day and asked him if he'd like to have a drink with me at a bar we both liked; we'd done this often enough since Lana's death, usually just to catch up on things, but I hoped to steer things in a new direction this time. I had been mourning my good friend's death, too, but felt my "black mourning dress" days were over. He said he'd be happy to, and he picked me up at my townhouse.

"You look pretty chipper," Gordon said to me after we settled in at the small table we picked out in the bar.

"Do I? I feel okay, not exactly spectacular. Work is going well." Then I smiled seductively and added, "In fact, I've had a couple of dates since the last time I saw you."

"Yeah?" he responded. "And how did they go?"

"One so-so, the other quite good."

"Tell me about the good one."

"It was at a regional conference with mostly politicians and engineers." (I manage a waste treatment plant producing farm fertilizers.) "Lots of pie charts and budgetary tables. Her name's Karen, and we got to talking during one of the breaks."

"Karen? Way to go, Pam! Now you've got to tell me everything."

"Everything?"

"You've known me forever, Pammy. Tell me what you think I'd like to hear, if you can, of course." He grinned as he said this, a good sign in my book, considering how dour and gloomy he could be lately.

"She's in her early thirties, gorgeous, blonde, with a wonderful smile and the greenest eyes I've ever seen. I thought she was wearing special contacts, but they were natural. Breaks tended to be on the short side, so we quickly established that we were there by ourselves, and were unattached otherwise. We agreed to meet up again for dinner, just the two of us. There was that certain something in the air when we were summoned back to our meetings, and I thought the evening might be more than just a pleasant dinner with a fellow colleague."

"Think of all the waste management issues you could hash out," Gordon said, being a wise guy.

"That's what the meetings were for, dummy. This was going to be way more interesting than that."

"Go on."

"Well, without any prompting but just spontaneously, we both got ourselves pretty fixed up for dinner, sexy dresses, all the makeup, the whole nine yards. Right then and there, before we even sat down at our table, we knew something special was unfolding. It took about two minutes before the conversation zeroed in on our sex lives. I told her about me and you and Lana, some of our times together, with certain things left out, of course. That's okay, right?"

"What, that you left certain things out? I'm sure that was smart thinking." He, of course, was referring to our scat episodes.

"Obviously, but that's not what I was talking about. That's wise crack number two from you; one more and I'm going to leave."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Really. But believe it or not, when you said 'certain things left out' I immediately pictured the three of us making love covered in our scat."

That was a pleasant thing to hear and tapered my peevishness toward him. "I'm really glad to hear you say that, Gordon. I want to talk to you about that."

"I thought you might. So do I. But finish telling me about your dinner date."

"Okay. Not to wound your precious ego, but Karen was mostly interested in Lana and me, had we ever done it, just the two of us, what it was like. She said she'd had numerous boyfriends, lots of great sex, but, since she broke up with her latest guy, had really been fantasizing about fucking another woman."

"I didn't think women fucked each other, just made love."

"Oh, Gordon. Really? That's so dumb, you must be joking." I almost made a reference to Lana, a joke, to the effect that when he lost Lana he must've lost his brains, too, but bit my tongue just in time. "Are you trying to get my goat on purpose?"

"No. I'm just a hopeless romantic; I can't help it."

"You're full of shit, is what you are."

He laughed and said I was probably right. I decided to let it slide.

I continued with my story. "Maybe because as we talked and I told her some of my experiences, she somehow got it in her head that I was some practiced expert at lesbian love-making, but suddenly Karen looked more nervous than eager, as if maybe she'd bitten off more than she could chew. So I took her in my arms and kissed her. 'Don't look so anxious; if you truly want to do this, and don't fight yourself every inch of the way, there's a good chance you'll like it.' That seemed to help. By the time we took our clothes off and got into bed, Karen was all in."

We couldn't seem to find our waiter, so Gordon went to the bar to replenish our drinks. It gave me a few minutes to reminisce. In my mind's eye, I revisited the scene in Karen's hotel room, her body sprawled on the bed, my mouth devouring her tits, licking her nipples, her fingers in my hair. She was a busy lover initially, and the first thing I wanted her to do, I remember, was to slow down; it wasn't a sprint but a marathon (an old cliché, I know). Her skin was soft and smooth and I wanted to taste every inch of it. We got into a 69 position and tongued each other's pussy; her juices were deliciously sweet. She surprised me when I felt her tongue suddenly at my asshole licking all around my sphincter; I opened my legs wider and spread my cheeks to ease her investigation. She only did it for a few minutes and then pulled away, grinning, saying she always wanted to do that, to be 'a dirty girl' for just a while. I said 'so do I' and pushed her down and rolled her onto her shoulder blades and opened her legs; I started at her cunt and ran my tongue from there back to her asshole, thrusting my tongue in through her sphincter a few inches. When she was thoroughly wet there, I stuck a finger in my mouth to juice it up and gently pushed it into her anus and fucked her there with it. I then licked her cunt as I finger-fucked her ass, my tongue dancing with her clit. She moaned and shortly thereafter climaxed. I pulled my finger out of her ass and surreptitiously gave it a lick; hardly any taste at all. I spent the night there and we made love (I mean fucked) several more times.

"She must've done some very serious fantasizing," I told Gordon when he got back from the bar, continuing my story, "because she did some amazing things with me in that bed. She even wanted us to pee on each other in the bathtub." Once again my mind's eye intervened and I witnessed her lying naked on her back in the tub as I straddled her body, my knees on the rim of each side of the tub, and directed my golden flow onto her tits and belly and finally into her open mouth (at her insistence). I peed in her mouth in short spurts, giving her a chance to swallow or dribble it out; to her credit, she swallowed as often as dribbled. Then it was my turn.

"Any scat play?" Gordon asked. The question again surprised me, his second mention of scat in the last 20 minutes. It looked like now was going to be my chance, and I better capitalize on it.

"No," I said, and then I reached my hand across the table and took one of his. "Maybe it will in the future with Karen, I can't tell yet, but I know it was something you and I shared -- and Lana, of course. They were wonderful times. Do you think about them, Gordon?"

"Yeah, sure," he admitted. "I never really stopped thinking about them. How could I? They pretty much defined me. But for a long time those thoughts, memories, existed only in a dark box somewhere, and when I visited them, I could only do so within that box. Lately I'm starting to view them from without the box; they're still there and as wonderful as ever, but it feels good to bask in the light again with them."

"I think I know what you mean," I told him. "I have lots of terrific memories, too. I would like to make more, though. With you. I'm pretty sure Lana..."

He interrupted me. "I know what you're going to say, that Lana would want that, or would approve of us continuing what all three of us enjoyed so much, or something to that affect; knowing Lana I can even hear her saying, 'What the fuck have you two been waiting for, anyway, come on!' You're right, and I've realized that for a while now."

"Well, it sounds like you're ready and I know I certainly think it's time. So what do you say?"

"I was thinking maybe the same thing, Pam, sort of." And he laughed suddenly, realizing how still indecisive his words sounded. "How's that for a definitive stand!"

"Listen, Gordon," I said, thinking a little push might be all he needed. "Let's get out of here and go to my place."

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?" he asked jokingly.

"Good question, Benjamin," I replied, grinning, feeling a weight lifting, and good to be back talking in our old familiar repartee. "Maybe I'll just kick you in your cock instead."

"Not a good idea; it's so hard right now you might break your toe."

I laughed. "You know just what to say to a girl. Come on, let's go. I want to suck it if it's that hard."

We drove back to my townhouse. I was going to unzip him and suck him a bit while he drove, but I could see by his look that he, too, expected me to do that. So I decided not to (isn't there a song lyric about "the games people play"?), although I did stroke him through his pants. He wasn't kidding in the bar: he was hard all right. On the way he told me he had to be in (he mentioned a county seat in south Jersey) by 9 am the next morning so would have to leave at a decent time and thought it might be best not to attempt a major scat event, considering, if that was okay; I said, "Fine, I wasn't exactly prepared for that anyway." He knew what I meant by that.

Gordon hadn't been in my place for months, not since shortly after Lana died, but acted like he'd been there only yesterday. He went into the kitchen, knew exactly where the wine glasses were, remembered where I kept the wine, and opened a bottle. I sprawled out on my extra-long couch, and he laid down next to me, cradling me in his arms. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in his embrace. I felt his lips in my hair and tilted my face up to kiss him. Gordon was always a fantastic kisser; in fact, anything involving his mouth brought out the best in him. It was a very long kiss and progressed in stages: first just our lips and then his tongue pushing through to dance with mine; the taste of wine and liquor ever present, adding to the eroticism. Then he'd withdraw, moan perhaps, say some sweet nothing to me, and finally start again with the next kiss. We were still fully dressed, which was becoming a major annoyance to me, so after the third kiss I pushed and pulled myself up to my feet and slipped my dress off. I was going to get back in his arms again, but grabbed him by the hands and pulled him up.

"Take me to bed, lover boy," I said to him and pulled him toward the bedroom. I took off my bra and panties and crawled into bed as Gordon removed his clothes before joining me. We embraced and it was fantastic feeling his naked body against mine. I immediately reached for his cock and stroked him with my hand; his eight inches were at full extension and titanium hard.

"Still toe-breakably hard, I see," I said as I scooted my head down to scoop him into my mouth. He laid on his back and for the next 15 minutes I gave him the best blow job I knew how to give, savoring every inch of his beautiful cock, including his balls. I even pushed his legs back and licked his asshole. "I know what we said," I told him, "but I've got to at least taste you there, Gordon." And I did, and I'm sure he loved it, too.

When I had my fill, I straddled his waist and inserted his cock into my pussy. He pulled me down on top of him and sucked my tits as I slid his cock in an out of me. He put his hands on my ass and pulled me into him, pushing up with his hips. He rolled me onto my back, and I wrapped my legs around his waist; he felt so huge inside of me, filling me up totally. He nibbled my neck and put his tongue in my ear, driving me crazy, all the while pounding my cunt with his cock. I felt my orgasm building and began the internal battle of allowing it to proceed versus holding it back to enjoy the pleasure longer. Either way it would end in total victory, and a few minutes later I spasmed on his cock as he released his cum deep inside of me.

He remained inside of me for a long time, even after we rolled onto our sides. We kissed in-between expressing our pleasure with what just happened. Finally, his cock slid out of me and we sat up against the headboard. We talked for a bit, then I got up to get the wine we left in the living room. I returned with it and got back into bed with him.

Eventually the conversation got around to our favorite fetish.

I reminded him of the fantastic scat sessions we'd all had at my factory, and hoped he might wish to adventure there again. I managed a treatment plant that converted human waste into farm fertilizers, sold only to commercial farmers in 80-gallon drums. The human waste was collected from sewage treatment plants and chemically processed to make it usable on farm fields, all harmful (to humans) bacteria removed in the process. The processed sludge was collected in a relatively small room (15'x15') before being barreled and shipped; it would accumulate on the floor of this room about six inches deep before proceeding via chutes into the barrels. The color and consistency of it was about the same as canned chocolate frosting, maybe just a tad more moist, great for body smearing. Any scat enthusiast worth her salt will tell you that a vast majority of the incredible pleasure produced in the scatting experience comes from the feel of it being spread on your body. That's my opinion, anyway.

As plant manager I was in control of all this and I could (and did) stop the whole line for "maintenance" late at night, when I would be the only one present, and use the room for my own purposes. This included informing Gordon and Lana so we all could assemble there for scat sessions. There was an even smaller room attached to this one, in which I had installed a small shower; since the sludge was already processed and "pure," no shitting was permitted in it (though pissing was okay), and that's what the side room could be used for. The three of us had had a number of wonderful episodes in both rooms, and I had treated myself to a solo session a month or so earlier, a sort of final farewell tribute to Lana. Now I wanted Gordon to join me.

"Hmmm, that would be fun, wouldn't it," he said. He looked at me and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he conjured up memories of past adventures there.

I told him I thought it would be fantastic, and it wasn't long before we both had our hearts set on it. I arranged a date and time (as always, midnight), and Gordon would meet me at the plant. I got a little nervous when at around 8 pm my phone rang and it was him; I thought he was calling to back out. But he'd called just to say how eager he was. Very good news, I thought.

The sight of the rooms brought back a flood of memories for him, and when he and I got our clothes off, we went into the larger room first. The sludge reached to just above our ankles, and we got down into it slowly, first knees, then asses, then full body spread, savoring the rapturous feeling of it on our skin. (Once again let me point out just how tactile scatting is.) The decontamination process removed much of the shitty tastes and smells, which made it easy to imagine it being just mud, but it was still excrement. We rubbed each other's body with it (I loved the way it dripped from my shoulder-length, no-longer-blonde hair, especially when I draped it across my face), fucked in it (it was the perfect lube for anal sex), sucked each other everywhere in it. There was an emergency handle attached to a chute that released about five gallons of sludge at a time when pulled, and we took turns pulling the handle and having the sludge cascade onto our heads. We were enveloped in it and it felt marvelous.

We enjoyed ourselves this way for quite a while, and then I said I wanted to go into the other room. We scraped off most of the muck from our bodies, went into the smaller room, and took a quick shower to remove much of the rest. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I felt almost giddy with anticipation.

"Finally, I'm so happy we're playing like this again," I said as we showered. "I know it's going to be wonderful. I can taste you already."

Gordon kissed me and rubbed my sopping body all over. He asked me if I wanted to go first, and I quickly said yes. Then he turned the water off and laid down on the floor of the shower. He told me to choose the spot; I didn't choose his mouth (partly out of respect for Lana, I thought, this first time) but his belly. With my back toward his face, I straddled him and slipped his wet cock up my ass. Compared to the dildo I often used there, he filled me so much more, and I could feel the walls of my anus expand and contract around him. He fucked me steadily until I felt my shit about to swallow his cock, and then I lifted my ass up off of him. I began to piss and pointed my ass back a little and a long, magnificent turd was expelled onto his belly, some of it covering his cock; then a second turd emerged, just a tad less huge. They were each at least a foot long, probably longer, and had folded back on themselves. I finished pissing on his cock and belly and turned, sitting across his thighs.

"Oh, my goodness!" he exclaimed. "That looks absolutely magnificent! They're massive!"

"I wanted this to be special," I told him, "and prepared carefully: no defecating for days and monitoring my diet and laxative intake." Something Lana often did, he remembered. "I guess it worked."

"Fuck yeah, indeed," he said. "It worked, all right." Within seconds his hands were buried in my mess, spreading it around his cock and belly. He said he wanted to taste me, of course, but I should help him smear some on my tits, he wanted to taste me on my tits. I broke a log in half and he took a handful off his belly and we rubbed the shit all over my tits, covering them easily and much of my torso as well; there was so much shit that I could probably cover my whole body and have some left over. We worked slowly and deliberately; he remembered exactly how much I loved this, how almost electrically charged my sensations became. I leaned forward and offered my tits to him and he sucked them deliciously, sliding his tongue all around the nipples. I sat up and took some more in my hands and then wiped it all over my face, covering every inch in creamy fudge. I put some in my mouth and stuck my tongue out to him, like I was performing in a scat video (we both laughed at the sight), and then he pulled me down to him and kissed my lips, our tongues intermingling.

I was eager for other parts of him now, and I scooched down until my face was at his cock; he had covered it pretty thoroughly already, so I just made some minor adjustments, mainly by adding more of my fudge to it, and mashed it in my mouth. I pushed my mouth up and down his cock shaft, from the head to his balls, once gagging as his cock violated my throat. Fuck, I thought to myself, out of practice, that never used to happen. I sucked him vigorously and thought he was going to come, but he went to stop me, not wanting to come yet. Although I would've loved to feel his cock empty into my mouth, I lifted my head off him and smiled at him, a long string of brown drool seeping from my lips.