The Toilet Club Ch. 18-19

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Mike Ellis was in Seventh Heaven as he laid back on his Aunt Susan's bed while she sniffed and licked every corner of his taut 18-year old body.

Tonight, Mike's aunt had teased him towards the most extreme expression of bodily waste. She wanted him to feed her his "Champagne and Kaviar"! The driven woman was locked in a trance that was desperately anticipating his eminent expulsion of his dung into her waiting mouth.

Mike was only too happy to accommodate her cravings. But something had to happen very soon. He'd been holding himself all day from taking a crap and time was running out. He wiggled his hips as his aunt stabbed her tongue insistently up his rectum, bidding him to usher his saved-up turds into her mouth.

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Deep down, Susan Compton knew that this filthy activity was somehow perverse or at least deeply transgressive of social norms. No doubt she'd made matters only worse by drawing her precocious nephew into her world of obscene cravings and compulsions. What was wrong with her? Here she was, about to summon his backed-up stools into her mouth so that she could gum them, savor their extruded volume, and then share them with him, only to frantically receive more, straight from the source. Yet, the deeper she sunk into her occluded state, the less her self doubts affected her.

Susan felt suffused in a kind of holy ecstasy. What was happening to Whom was rapidly fading out of the picture. What was left was a dilating aperture, the exposed end of an obscene turd, and her reception of its anal advance into her waiting mouth. She felt an obscene joy in this fulfillment of her craving for her nephew's stools. She rolled his dung around in her maw, tasting its flattened foulness, and then raised herself up and approached Mikey with his turd protruding from her mouth. Her nephew opened wide to receive her obscene dessert.

This was the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced. He took a deep breath, braced himself and felt the lumpy stool drop into his receptive maw. He knew he must not swallow, but he couldn't resist chewing it a few times, before spitting it out onto his own chest. Then he felt the urgent need to push another log out as Aunt Susan positioned herself for another helping of Kaviar.

Somewhere, on the far edge of consciousness, his aunt fondled her cunt with eager fingers and pinched her clit. What slippery goo! So good, so naughty! The beautiful female animal, devoid of identity, reduced to agitated motor nerves, groaned as another length of turd filled her open maw. Good god! What had she done to deserve this onslaught of filth? Was it a reward or a punishment? Was there any difference between the two? Again, she savored the taste and strong aroma. Then she again rose and brought the Kaviar to her teenage lover and spat it into his widened mouth. She stared while he eagerly chewed and then spat it out onto his own chest again. Without thinking, she reached out her hands and mashed the Kaviar around on her nephew's trunk, and then returned for another feeding.

A final blast of fecal filth befouled her opened mouth. She -- whoever she was -- felt overwhelmed by the stink and taste of expelled stools. It was wonderful, it was terrible, it was just too much. Susan writhed under the onslaught and felt herself helplessly surrender to a gasping cum that forced her to spit her mouthful of shit into her cupped hands. Her urethra tickled and shot out a spray of liquid -- she knew not what. Then, mustering her attention -- what little there was left of it -- she edged up and opened up her cupped hands and let the final dose of filth drop into her nephew's mouth. She again watched in awe as her brave partner in crime munched noisily and again spat his shit onto his body below. As if in the grip of a holy ritual, she gripped the new offering of poop and mashed it onto her own tits, smearing it all over them and transforming them into shit-covered udders.

My god! What an ordeal! A lovely, obscene ordeal. She lowered her nephew's thighs and gripped his now flaccid cock and directed it towards her open mouth.

Now that the urgent pressure in his bowels was relieved, Mike felt free to piss like gangbusters into his aunt's waiting mouth. He directed the powerful stream of "champagne" all around her oral cavity, as if blast-cleaning the fecal remnants still coating her tongue and palate. Aunt Susan gargled noisily and spat the pee soup out onto the plastic cover, gagging a little as the spray resumed filling her mouth. This time she shared her mouthful with Mike, enabling him to slosh the Champagne around to cleanse his own tongue and palate. Finally his bladder was empty and so were their mouths.

Susan felt an ecstatic triumph that together they had survived their intimate ritual. Perhaps they were not perverts after all. As Mikey insisted, they were just special people with unique cravings and needs. Yes! That must be it. Aunt Susan let herself relax beside her beloved nephew, and gave him a shit-eating grin. Then she reached over and raised her flute of bubbly in a grateful toast. Mike grabbed and raised his, lightly clinking his glass to hers. Then they drank deeply and sighed.

The depraved pair had just enough energy left to quickly clean up the mess, shower, and brush their teeth before falling into bed again. Susan flicked off her bedside lamp, leaned over and gave her nephew a deep and loving kiss, and before a minute's time, they were both out for the count.

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