The Scat Lovers Ch. 13

Warning! Scat play ahead... if this offends you or is not your thing, please steer clear. Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone, though they are somewhat interlinked and are populated by recurring characters. Feedback always welcomed.

I (my name is Gordon) was browsing in a local bookstore one day, an independent store and fairly large, when I saw a young woman leafing through a book in the "Erotica" section. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, had shaggy blonde hair, green eyes, and a swim-suit model's figure. She wore a casual dress, a few inches above her knees, with sandals on her bare feet, and I figured she was killing time on her lunch hour. I recognized the book she was perusing, one I'd read myself more than once, and it immediately piqued my interest in her. Was she looking at that book unwittingly as a mere browser might, or was she fully aware of what she was holding? I decided to find out. I walked over near to her and pretended to be browsing as well.

I spoke to her saying in an off-handed way, "It's heartening to see a good bookstore like this has an Erotica section. Most wouldn't."

"Is that what this is?" she replied, in a surprised voice. "I thought it was a continuation of the cookbook section. I mean this book is called Serving All My Delicacies so I figured it was a cookbook."

I laughed out loud, thinking she was probably joking, and said, "Well, I suppose some of that book is about serving, and even consuming, certain delicacies, but I doubt you'd find them on any restaurant menu."

She was looking at me steadily now with an expression indicating she was aware we were both engaged in the very early stages of some kind of courting dance, and that she liked what she saw. "Really," she smiled. "So confusing. You've read this book then?"

"Yeah, actually," I declared, "several times, as a matter of fact."

"And you're not a chef or food connoisseur?"

"Hardly."

"What do you think of it?" she asked, motioning to the book. "Would it be something I might like?"

"Well," I faltered, trying to make up my mind how far I wanted to take this, and whether she was aware of more than she was letting on. "Look on page 107 and see what you think. That might help you decide." I knew the passage almost by heart because it described a wildly passionate scat scene involving a man and his mistress. But a wave briefly plowed through my stomach and I couldn't be sure whether it signaled I'd gone too far, or I was just excited by the possibilities.

She turned to look at me and we eyed each other for several seconds. "If you do," I continued, my courage building, "like it I mean, I'll be in that little alcove over there; come see me and we'll talk." Then I swung around and walked in the direction I had just pointed. I looked back and saw that she was thumbing through the book looking for the page. I had said "like it" to her and wondered how probable that would be? I suddenly felt lost in my own fantasy world.

I waited patiently, sitting in the one armchair available in the alcove, feeling my chances diminishing the longer I waited. I thought she probably took one look at the passage and ran for the door. A few times I was about to get up and look, but was afraid I would jinx things. I was just about ready to give up while consoling myself with a "nothing ventured, nothing gained" reminder, when she appeared. She smiled and had an air of confidence about her.

"My name is Gordon," I began, standing up. "I guess you were okay with page 107?"

"I'm Heather," she said. "First of all, I thought you were wrong about that page number and sure enough it was page 117, not 107, which is what took me so long getting here, finding the right page. I assume you meant the scene where Graham's beautiful mistress Toya eats his ass out and he takes a shit right between her gorgeous tits and she rubs it all over herself." And she smiled mischievously, as if trying to startle a reaction out of me.

"Uhhh," I started to speak, dumbfounded. Her words both shocked and amazed me. "Yeah, that's the one, but I could've sworn, I mean..."

"Secondly," she interrupted, "been there, done that." The store's restroom was right behind where we were standing, and she pushed open the door and pulled me into it with her. It was a one stall, one urinal affair, where you lock the door when in use.

She locked the door and turned to face me. I was a bundle of confusion and joy, like I just heard I won the lottery but couldn't remember ever buying a ticket.

"I assume," she began, speaking softly so as not to be heard outside the restroom, "with that book recommendation that you're into scat and are hoping I am, too?"

"Yeah, without a doubt on both counts," I replied. "You're here, so that must mean something."

She looked at me, not with trepidation, but with careful consideration. "Yes, I said I've done that, and I do know that book, quite well, I might add, so they mean something, too. But do you, I mean, to be honest, I've had some bad experiences along this avenue and I really don't want another one. Are you into it or just think you are? I've met my share of the latter kind."

"Me?" I uttered, as assuredly and sincerely as I could. "Nothing gives me more pleasure, better enjoyment. I love it, the mess, the filth." Was I overstating things? Calm down! I berated myself. I wondered if she would turn around and leave.

But instead she said, "I hope that's true, because it is for me. Mmmm, the feel of shit being smeared all over me, it's incredible, I crave it so much. I wish we were doing that right now with each other." As before with her mischievous smile I felt her words were spoken as much to startle me as to reveal information, that her brutal honesty would summons the same from me. No bullshit.

"I swear it's the same for me," I retorted. "I literally hunger after it, in every way." The wall of uncertainty fell with that and we embraced and kissed passionately, our tongues diving into each other's mouth. I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so I could lick and kiss her neck and work my mouth down to her tits; I caressed them with my hands, popping them out of the top of her dress. My tongue circled her nipples and then sucked them hard, causing her to moan softly.

I sat down on the toilet seat and had her face me, standing. I lifted her dress, saw that she wore no panties, and kissed her pussy, which was shaved clean. I found her clit and danced all around it with the tip of my tongue. She moaned and pushed her cunt harder into my face. She closed her eyes and whispered how much I was turning her on.

Then I turned her around, kissed her smallish perky ass cheeks, spread them open, and licked her asshole. Her taste was very mild, almost non-existent. She ground her asshole into my mouth and reached for my cock between her outspread legs. I stood briefly to lower my pants, and she palmed my cock, stroking me up and down. Soon she turned around and straddled me, sliding my prick into her sopping wet pussy and offered her tits to my mouth. I sucked them greedily and felt her move her body up and down on my cock.

"Oh, fuck me, baby, that feels so good," Heather whispered, continuing to slide her pussy up and down my shaft. "This is so sexy fucking here with you, so bad, my imagination is on fire; I want everything right now." She paused, perhaps weighing the fact of where we were and what we were doing, the riskiness of it, and then murmured to me anyway, "Do you want me to shit on you right here while we fuck? I'd be more than happy to do it." Her self-control seemed to slip beyond her grasp. She slid harder and deeper onto my cock and stared into my eyes.

"I would love you to," I replied, my mind exploding with images of what that would be like. "But we both know that would be crazy."

"Come inside of me, Gordon. I'm so close myself, come in me and I'll come, too. Make me come."

I held her hips and helped her slide her pussy onto me. I felt myself getting close to coming as was she, and with a final thrust I erupted into her, spilling my seed. Heather bit her lips and held her breath to stifle her moans and trembled and climaxed as well. Her pelvis spasmed around my cock as she drank up every spurt from me.

We remained still for a while, catching our breath. She stood up finally and put a hand to her pussy to catch my cum as it leaked out of her and then licked her hand. What a magnificent, sexy woman I have here, I thought, how lucky I am to be fucking her like this!

"Listen," I said softly. "I live only 20 minutes away; can you come home with me? Now?"

"Promise me the next time we fuck we'll be covered in shit," Heather whispered to me.

"No question about it, I promise." I replied.

"Good," she said. "I just need to make a call." We made ourselves decent again and stepped outside the bathroom. She took her phone out of her purse and spoke to (I assumed) a secretary or receptionist, and asked her to cancel the 3:00 appointment she had scheduled, feigned illness, and said she'd be back in the office the next day. "I'm all yours," she said to me.

She said she would follow me to my place in her car, but I didn't want to be separated from her and told her to hop in mine, I'd drive and bring her back later. On the way, she told me a little about herself. She was originally from the Boston area and had been involved somewhat in the scat scene there, especially with a guy named Greg. They had fallen out and she left to work for a software company in New Jersey. She had tried a few scat hookups online since coming to N.J., but found them all to be unsatisfying. She was obviously a bright woman, self-assured and clear-sighted.

We got to my house and went inside. Being very direct and not at all shy, she began unzipping her dress immediately and let it drop down her body to the floor.

I soaked in her beauty as she turned around for me to see.

"No underwear," I said. "I like that."

"I'm glad," Heather replied, "because I usually go without unless absolutely necessary."

"That's a huge turn-on for me," I said. "I guess for you, too?"

"I like the feeling of being free," she answered, "the idea that nothing is restricting me. It's sexy as hell. I imagine sometimes I'm sitting with someone who just reaches under my dress and finger fucks me, or I sit with my legs apart, and everyone can see my pussy. I guess I'm a bit of an exhibitionist."

"I'm sure whenever I envision you," I declared, "you will be totally naked under whatever it is I imagine you're wearing."

"I hope that's something a lot shorter than the dress I wore today," she responded, laughing.

I took her into the bedroom and we got on the well-protected bed (plastic sheeting under a thick, soft cotton over-sheet and a large comforter). We kissed and fondled each other, our bodies intertwining. I licked her neck and ran my tongue to her ear, tasting her jasmine perfume. I moved my mouth to her breasts and sucked each one, biting the nipples as I'd done in the bookstore, causing her to moan, as she'd done before. She pushed my head down to her pussy and opened her legs; I licked her slit, so soft and juicy.

"Oh, shit," she muttered. "Your tongue is making me wild. Keep licking me!" But her desires were driving her thoughts, her wishes to greater heights. She pulled me up onto her, pushing my face into her tits to suck. They were perfect, soft and delectable, and I tongued and pinched them until they were two hard pebbles. A few minutes later she sat and leaned back on her elbows.

"My whole body feels on fire," she gushed. "I feel so horny! Drench me, please, I love to be pissed on; it feels so slippery and sexy and makes me crazy!"

I was enthralled by her sexual enthusiasm, her straight-forwardness. I stood and a stream of clear urine spattered on her 36B tits and down across her belly and pussy. She murmured how much my pee splattering off her skin delighted her, made her feel incredibly hot. I blasted her pussy before working up her body to her mouth. She opened her mouth and took my piss in, swallowing sometimes and spitting it out onto her tits other times. When I was done, I stepped forward and told her to suck me, which she did, drinking more of my pee that dribbled out.

"I hope you still want to be covered in shit the next time we fuck," I stated, "because that's about to happen right now."

"Fuck, yes, do it!" she implored me. "Start covering me, my skin is tingling already, dying to feel it!"

I then squatted down over her tits as she laid down, and she rubbed my asshole and stuck her finger in as far as it would go. When she took it out a turd about seven inches long followed close behind landing between her tits. I strained a bit and more emerged, softer and creamier, which came in two waves, covering her tits with brown sludge. She rubbed it all over her breasts and neck, delighted by how exquisite my warm shit felt on her skin, and then she smeared my ass all around with it and put it to her face. She pulled my ass onto her face and licked the shit in my crack. It was mushy and buttery, she said, like a chocolate paste, and tasted earthy. She rubbed my ass over her face covering it with dark brown goo, thrilling herself.

Shortly, Heather rolled me on my back and knelt next to me.

"Want to suck my creamy tits before I bathe your cock and balls with them?" she asked. "Taste them? Would you like that?" I grabbed them and licked her nipples before burying my face in them, tasting my dark brown gift to her. She held my head and rubbed her tits over my face.

Eventually she got between my legs and with her shit-covered tits steeped my cock and balls, covering them in poop. She took my rock-hard cock and put it in her mouth, licking and sucking the knob, then running her mouth down its length to the base. It felt incredible, and I told her not to stop, to keep sucking me.

"You taste so fucking good," she crooned as she licked all around me. "Your shit is so delicious; I love rolling my tongue in it." Her sucking action and total abandon fanned the flames in me, and I told her to sit on my face and give me her treasure, I wanted her to inundate my mouth with her waste.

She took one last suck on my cock and quickly moved up to my face and, facing away from me, lowered her ass onto my mouth.

"Tongue fuck my asshole," she commanded me. "Really get it in there; show me how much you love eating my ass. Get me nice and wet with your spit."

I thrust my tongue deep into her asshole, fucking it, tasting her slime. A soft, curly turd, longer than my initial offering, slithered out of her, like chocolate custard ice cream, and piled up onto my lips. She patted it down with her ass and told me more was on the way. This was fucking ecstasy for me, the anticipation exquisite. I waited eagerly for this offering and when it came it flooded out of her in a torrent, spreading across her original pile and onto my chin and cheeks, coating me with flexile, waxy muck, its aroma more pungent than its taste. Her overflow seeped down my neck and onto the bed.

She turned to face me and put her fingers into my mouth and then into her own mouth, sampling her gift to me. She brought her lips down to mine and kissed me, smearing the poop that spilled out of our mouths onto my face.

"Do you like my taste?" she asked. "I hope you do because I want to give you more of it, I love sharing it with you."

"Mmmm," I moaned, unable to say more. I held her to me, caressing every inch of her I could reach, spreading our treasure on her skin.

She then moved back a ways and sat on my cock, directing it into her asshole. She fucked my cock with her ass, all the while massaging my chest and face. I rubbed her tits hard and ran my shit-covered fingers through her blonde hair, streaking it dark brown. Her asshole moving up and down my cock shaft was soon bringing me to the edge of coming, and I felt my balls getting ready to explode, which they soon did deep inside her rectum. She slid my cock out of her ass and put it in her mouth to savor my cum.

We rested after this, Heather lying in my arms, her head on my chest. I told her about myself, my past, and she revealed more about herself. It happens that her scat partner Greg had been indicted in a stock fraud incident, found guilty, and gone to prison. He'd declared his innocence from the start, and after ten months new evidence emerged that cleared him. She and Greg were more than acquaintances but not really lovers, they shared a fetish, but so did they with other Bostonians. When things looked their worst for Greg, Heather was offered a major promotion if she moved to New Jersey, which she did with no compunction. She never expected to see him or hear about him again.

But the fickle finger of fate had different ideas. When Greg was released, he doubted he would ever work in finance again, despite his innocence, but a small commercial bank took a chance and hired him. Within a few years he had climbed several rungs on the success ladder, and was transferred to N.J. in a semi-leadership role. In fact, Heather had learned of his post-prison years just recently from an old friend in Boston and hadn't reconnected with him or was sure she wanted to.

"Now that I know he's in Jersey like I am," said Heather, "I've thought about looking him up, possibly reconnecting if he's still available and would want to. He might totally hate me now, for all I know. If the scat scene here in N.J. wasn't so unappealing, I might not think about him. We did have some good times together, though."

"How has the scat scene been so bad for you?" I asked.

"Most of the people I've met so far, men and women," she stated, "aren't really into it themselves and just want to see me get filthy, like I'm a sideshow carnival act; they'll be all too happy to piss and shit on me, get me dirty, but there's no interaction. It's not that I mind getting myself all dirty, it's something I do all the time in the bathtub, but I want something more when I'm with somebody. You know, masturbating is great, but fucking is better. I would respond to an ad, for instance, thinking the scatting would be a shared experience, but it rarely happened, not the way I wanted it to. I'm at the point now where I never approach guys, or women, with scat in mind; it's been too big a disappointment. How have your experiences been? Better, I hope."

"I've been fortunate to meet a few people who all share scatting in the same deeply passionate light as I do, so the searching, though still there, obviously" (and I gestured toward Heather as if to make my point), "isn't as intense as with you." A thought had begun to fill my mind, but before I could articulate it, Heather spoke again.

"Lucky you, I guess, but I've been waiting for someone to sweep me off my feet, like you did today, and take me to where I need to go. This has been an incredible day for me, Gordon."

"Me, too," I said. "I'm so glad I went into that bookstore, which was a last-minute, out-of-the-blue decision. And that you like 'cookbooks' so much." I laughed.

"I was bored at work," Heather explained, "and thought I'd give myself a thrill during my lunch break; that book is a scat classic, you know. I've gotten quite a few good ideas from that book." Now she laughed.

I suddenly had an idea. I grabbed a towel, wiped my feet, and said I'd be right back. I left the bedroom and returned carrying an enema bulb, a pot of warm water, and a plastic container.

"I believe Graham and Toya spend quite a few pages in that book having enema fun," I recalled. "Perhaps that might appeal to you as well?"

"It's a great idea," she admitted. "I love having my ass filled with warm liquid and shooting it all over someone's face, even my own." I filled the bulb with water and inserted it in her ass. I squeezed it out slowly into her and then refilled it. When I was done, she said she felt wonderfully full, but thought she could take another bulb. As I finished plunging that into her, she told me to hurry and lie down under her, she was going to burst any second. I put my face under her ass and stretched my body out lengthwise, and she pushed out a tremendous stream of brown liquid mixed with chunks of shit onto my face and then down my body to my cock. She turned to see what she'd done and laughed.