Viva Sin City

Hilda and I were lying together on the living room couch, a well-used large and comfortable leather modular affair, our backs against the backrest, our legs stretched out on two sectional pieces. We had just finished eating dinner and cleaning up the dishes, and were cuddling under a thin blanket in just our underwear. We were sipping our favorite drinks, vodka tonics, getting ready to watch some of our best-loved videos on the big screen TV that hung on the wall. Scat videos. We had other kinds of well-cherished videos, of course, but our favorites were the scat videos. Most of the videos we were going to watch had been viewed so often they were etched into our memories, but we would check out new ones when they were posted and add the best to our favorites list.

Usually, we just watched and waited to be inspired enough to begin scatting ourselves. Sometimes we played little games, like "Mix and Match," where one of us picked a number 1-5 and, say it was 3, when the third randomly chosen video came on, we did the same thing that was happening on that video. That could lead to some pretty interesting occurrences. One time we had to go out on the sidewalk and Hilda had to take a shit in my hands (in the video a girl takes a shit on a sidewalk and leaves it there, but we weren't going to do that, so we improvised a little). Fortunately, it was dark, though people were still out and about, and we decided we would walk around a bit in public with her poop in my hands for the thrill it gave us. We had quite a scat session when we got back inside the condo with Hilda's shit front and center. It's uncanny this particular episode came to mind just now because something very similar happens later in this story.

Before we turned the TV on, there was some news I wanted to tell Hilda. "I have a surprise for you I think you might like," I said to her, rolling on my side and draping my arm across her belly.

"You want to skip watching and just start scatting with me?" she inquired. She sat up briefly and unhooked her bra in the back and slipped it off before lying back again.

I smiled and caressed her warm breasts and kissed them a few times. "No, that's not the surprise, but if you want to, I wouldn't object."

She took another sip of her vodka and said, "Let's watch a little. I want to watch the video where the one girl has the other girl kneel on a sofa and shit in her mouth while she lies on the floor and then they share it. That one's so fucking hot, I love it."

"Sure," I replied. "That'll be great. I thought I'd mention my surprise before we watched anything, though, because it's work-related."

Hilda sighed. "You're not going to spoil the moment, are you, James, with news about another trip they're making you go on? Please don't."

"It's a trip, all right, but a good one this time."

"What do you mean?"

"It's a trip we're both going to go on, to the Farallon Conference next month in Las Vegas, fully paid for, just you and me, together."

Hilda let out a mild scream and grabbed me. "The Farallon? That's a huge conference! And in Las Vegas! How did you manage that?"

"I spoke to Garrett. He said corporate wanted to send two people from our office this year, and I convinced him that after going to Milwaukee that time, which worked out great for the company, and the fact that you and I completed a few projects together, he should send us. I also reminded him he'd only have to book one room, so it would even save money. He liked the idea and agreed."

"I'm sure he liked the saving money idea the best." She paused for a moment and then said, with just the hint of a devilish tone, "I'm surprised he didn't insist on going himself and taking me with him."

"Even though he knows we're an item and living together?"

"Sure, why not. There isn't a ring on my finger, it is still just a business trip. Could he convince me to succumb to his wishes for a week in, of all places, Sin City, and what might that lead to?" I was gently massaging her pussy through her panties, and she put her hand on mine and rubbed with me.

"Really?" This thought had never occurred to me before.

"Yeah, maybe. It depends how brave and daring he sees himself. He's always very polite around me, lingers as long as he can when talking to me. He hasn't asked me out or anything, knowing about us, but he might welcome a chance to be alone with me in a different setting. Just to test me."

Now that she mentioned it, I could see her point. I felt very positive and confident about what Hilda and I had, but I thought it might be interesting pursuing this a bit further just for the fun of it. Or so I thought. Assuming a curious though congenial tone, I asked, "So, if he had decided to go himself and ask you, would you go?"

"Of course, it's the Farallon," she replied. She looked at me with just the tiniest hint of a smile, and finally added, "Mmm, your hand feels so good on my pussy. Why don't you take my panties off."

Ignoring her request for the moment, I inquired, "Would you let him wine and dine you and then take you into his bed?"

"What kind of question is that?" she responded, trying to be stern. "How is that your damn business?"

I tried to warn myself that I was being foolish and probably taking this too far, but continued anyway. "Suppose you had a wonderful time with him at the Farallon and later at dinner, after he's ordered your favorite dish and you've had several glasses of wine, and he's told you how lovely the dress you're wearing is..."

"Mini."

"What?"

"Minidress," she said, as if seeing I was acting like a jerk, so was deciding to play me like one. "It's a lavender minidress that just barely covers my ass. If I bend over even the slightest my nipples show."

It took only a second for that image to blaze across my mind. "Right. And then he reaches over and takes your hand and tells you how much he'd like to make love with you. What would you say to him?"

Shaking her head now like I was beyond hope, she said, "Again, it's none of your fucking concern, but since you're so obsessed with this, I'd tell him to lean over closer and when he did, I'd say 'Yes, I'd love to."

"You would?" That rattled me for sure, and when I looked at Hilda she had a very pleased look on her face. What was happening here? Where I had once felt jovial, I now felt threatened.

"Of course," Hilda said, satisfied with getting that final blow in, and realizing it was time to end this nonsense, "and then I would say, 'but only if you let me shit in your mouth first, I really need to shit terribly and James always lets me do it in his mouth before we make love.'"

That obviously snapped me out of my dopiness and I laughed sheepishly. "Well, I guess that would end the test right there." She laughed as well. But never knowing when to quit while I was ahead, I said, "Okay, but wait, suppose he said he would love that. Then what?"

She elbowed me in the ribs and growled, "You're impossible! Turn the fucking TV on and find me that video with the girl shitting in the other one's mouth. You're such a goof!"

***

A few days later at work Garrett called us into his office and made it official that we'd be going together to Las Vegas. Hilda wondered if hotel arrangements had been made yet, and when he told her they hadn't, she asked if she could make them, that she knew the manager of a nice hotel and would like to book our stay there. Garrett asked the name and she told him the Octavian, which we all had heard of, and he said that would be fine. The conference was being held at a different hotel, but one we could get to in a few minutes via the monorail. We would leave on a Monday and return the next Sunday evening, with the conference running Tuesday through midday Friday. The weekend would be a reward from the company for some of our projects we'd completed in the last several months. "It's not a whole lot," Garrett admitted, "but two extra days in Vegas at company expense is better than nothing."

Later I asked Hilda about the hotel and its manager she had mentioned. "Oh, she's super special, and the minute you said Las Vegas I thought of her," she said. "Her name is Sadia, and she just might be the greatest scat goddess in all of Sin City. I got to know her after we performed a few times there in private scat shows, sometimes at the hotel she manages. Anybody really into scatting who knows her will try to stay at the Octavian; she'll go out of her way to make your stay as filthy as she can without worry. And, of course, she's usually happy to join in if you want."

Hilda contacted the hotel directly, hoping to be able to talk with Sadia, but she wasn't available. She didn't have her personal number handy so left a message for her to call her. In the meantime, she made the arrangements for us for next month. That night Sadia returned her call and they spoke as if they were long lost friends meeting up again. Sadia said she might make a few adjustments with the room, finding something more "scat friendly" for us. They joked back and forth about messes and "shit storms," and then Hilda got up and went into the bedroom and closed the door. I wondered if she was going to tell Sadia all about me, how I loved shit as much as they did and did everything imaginable when it came to shit play and how thrilling it was being with me, but before I could finish even thinking those things she came out of the bedroom. So she couldn't have told her all those things, not enough time had elapsed, hardly even time for one of them, so I wondered what had transpired and if it had been about me. Fishing was never one of my favorite sporting activities, except maybe fishing for a compliment. It was time to cast my lure into the murky waters.

"Why did you go into the bedroom, love?" I asked, trying for mild inquisitiveness rather than bold interrogation. "Was there a big secret you had to tell her?"

"Yeah, how my lover has been asking the dumbest questions lately."

Ignoring that remark, I continued on my merry quest. "I guess she doesn't know much about me yet, does she?" I asked. "I mean, you probably haven't had time to mention much about me to her."

She looked at me, as she so often does, like I must have a screw loose or something, and said, "Of course she knows about you! I probably told her about you a few weeks after we started scatting together."

Was that a nibble I just felt on my line? It was certainly pleasant to hear. "What kind of things did you tell her about me, if you don't mind my asking."

"I do mind," she answered, but probably realizing that this was just another one of my forays into the absurd, added, "but just the usual things women tell one another about their boyfriends. I told her all the ways you use your tongue on my pussy when you're not utilizing it saying the most ridiculous things and how big and fat your cock is. Though women have been known to exaggerate sometimes."

"You did, huh," I responded, so self-absorbed at the moment I didn't recognize her sarcasm. "Was she impressed?"

"No. She's a scat queen and like all good scat queens was only mildly interested in your cock and much more interested in your scatting prowess."

I felt my fishing line get very taut over that. "And?" I asked.

"And what?"

"Come on, Hilda. My scatting prowess."

"Oh, I was just about to tell her, but she got called away on some hotel business. I never had the chance."

I snorted and then laughed. "Just call me the Washington Generals. I'm never going to win."

"Who are they?" she asked, but I just told her to never mind.

I let the matter drop and we talked about other things, especially about what the conference might be like and things we'd like to do when not attending it. Hilda told me how nice the hotel was and how accommodating Sadia made it for scat lovers.

"So, do you think Sadia might want to scat with us?" I asked.

Hilda came over to where I was sitting and sat in my lap. "We talked a little about that, and she hinted she wouldn't mind doing that if we wanted, time willing. Of course, she wants to check you out."

I was leery to go down that road again, so said somewhat indifferently, "Check off the boxes, huh. See how I stand up?"

"I haven't kicked you into the rubbish heap yet, which is not saying I won't, mind you, so she knows there's something special about you to me. Can she see it and appreciate it, too. That sort of thing."

"Speaking of something special," I said, "remember what we planned a few days ago for tonight?"

"Is this the night we're going to Bingo?"

"Ha, ha, very funny."

She cuddled a bit closer and kissed me. "I remember, sure I remember. Take me to Papa T.s for some Ribollita or Lasagna first. Gotta fill me up first before I can let it all out."

"You're on, baby. I'll bring some wine, too."

Our meal at the restaurant was excellent, as usual, as was the wine. When we walked into the condo on our return, Hilda said, "Whew! Made it. I really have to shit, thanks to the wine, I think. I thought I was going to poop my panties in the car. It was very tempting just to do it; we haven't done anything like that in a while."

"I know," I responded, the idea sinking in nicely. "Do you want to? Come on, let's go in the bedroom and show me what you've got."

Hilda smiled and said, "Mmm, okay, great idea. Hurry, though, I'm right on the verge." On the way to the bedroom, she removed her blouse and, once there, her slacks. She knelt on the bed and showed off her light green bikini panties to me. As she played with her panties and fingered herself, I removed my clothes and then sat on the bed behind her, touching her ass, even kissing it occasionally. She pushed her panties into her ass crack and then pulled them out again. Finally, she held her hand gently on the seat, and they began to fill with shit. Her hand now acted like a monitor or guide, keeping the burgeoning poop inside her panties as they ballooned out. The smell was delicious.

The task for me was not to become too impatient, to restrain myself from putting my hands in her mess to spread it around. That pleasure should be all hers at the beginning. And Hilda knew exactly how to give herself the greatest delight. As she pushed the fabric into her ass, the shit began popping out of the leg holes. It was medium-soft and dark brown, and she began smearing it across her ass through the garment. Some of it fell to the bed, which she ignored, and concentrated on getting as much shit over her ass and on her thighs as she could. Soon the panties were a total mess, completely stained, and she slipped them down her legs to remove them. While they were at her knees, she asked me to unhook her bra which she took off and turned around before sitting. She then wiped her hands on her belly and pussy, covering them with shit, and did the same with her tits.

At this point my patience ran out. I picked up a log that had fallen to the bed, a turd about five inches long and put it in my mouth. I tilted my face towards hers and offered the log for her to suck with me. She took it in her mouth and we shared it back and forth. It tasted mild and more sweet than bitter, and already my mind was exploding with the thrill of what was happening. At the same time, Hilda took her panties and coated my chest and neck with the shit that had accumulated in them. She took the log from our mouths and used it to cover our faces.

We spent many minutes smearing most of Hilda's body, and a good part of mine, too, with her shit, enjoying the feel of it, the taste, the smell -- and most of all the filth of it and how the challenge of overcoming that produced such a sexual high for us, such a feeling of power. It took us to another plane, one of pure sensation.

When it appeared we had used up all the shit available, she looked at me and said, "I want more, I need more for us to play with. Your turn, James. On your knees." I did what I was told and knew I was in for a magnificent treat. Hilda was going to rim me as a prelude to my defecating, and her rimming technique was the best, mainly because she put everything she had into it. She didn't just lick me, but ate my ass like she was starving and I was a filet mignon. Her tongue explored my entire ass crack, drenching it, and when at my asshole would go in deep, like a bee's proboscis searching for nectar. Before long she had my asshole so opened up and juicy, her tongue slid in easily. Next a finger went in and when she pulled it out it was black and shit-covered. She put it in her mouth and licked it clean and then quickly got on her back and positioned her face beneath my asshole.

"Let me have it, baby," she cooed. "My pussy is dripping like a faucet waiting for all that shit you've got for me." She continued to tongue my asshole, arching her neck in order to get her tongue up my ass as far as she could. I could feel my shit slide down my chute and then out my sphincter, and her mouth was right there waiting to take it all in. She moaned as it filled her mouth and spilled out onto her cheek. I looked down my chest to between my legs, and all I could see was this giant brown log protruding from her mouth. As I swung my legs off her, she reached up and grabbed it to keep it in place in her mouth, and I immediately bent down to hold it as well and suck it with her. We mushed it in our mouths, something we both love so much, and then we started spreading it, looking for spots we had missed before, but also further smearing it on her face, her tits, and finally her pussy.

I sucked her tits after they were covered, and maneuvered myself between her legs to fuck her. She rubbed her dirty hands all over my ass, filling my ass crack with poop, and as my cock fucked her cunt deep, stroke after stroke, she shoved her fingers up my ass. Our bodies slithered over each other in the shit that now coated both of us, and it felt luscious and sensuous. Both of us were on the verge of coming, and I was determined that she would come first. I plowed my cock into her, holding back the overpowering desire to shoot my cum deep inside her, and finally she spasmed and her pussy slammed into me and I erupted as well, my floodgates flying open in release. We hugged each other tightly and kissed and then broke apart, exhausted.

We lay in each other's arms and I fondled her, continuing to spread my shit all over her. But then she grabbed my hand so I would stop and spooned into me, pulling my arm over her body. "That feels perfect, love," she said. "Let's just lay here like this for a bit before we clean up. Then I need my beauty sleep, because I've got some shopping to do tomorrow. Las Vegas doesn't know what's about to hit them."

***

Everything with our flight went perfectly; the plane even landed five minutes ahead of schedule, which is basically unheard of. We took a taxi to the hotel, and at the front desk Hilda asked if Sadia was there. The receptionist pressed a button on the counter, and a few minutes later Sadia came out from a door off to the side. She and Hilda recognized each other right away and gave each other a big hug. Sadia was quite stunning, mid-thirties, dark brown hair, with an athletic shapely figure. Hilda introduced us and we kissed on the cheek. Hilda had said Sadia often participated in the scatting activities of her guests if they so desired, and based purely on my initial impression of her, I was looking forward to her joining us at some point during our stay.

Sadia retreated behind the counter for a moment, got some keycards for us, gave some instructions about our luggage, and told us to follow her. We got into an elevator and went up to the twelfth floor and then to our room. It was big, with a king-size bed, a balcony, and a large bathroom with an oversized tub. After our luggage was brought in and we were alone, Sadia felt more comfortable talking freely. She pointed out the large vacant floor area "perfect for scat play," and the large tub "big enough for the two of you at once either before or after -- or both!" She told us to look around and make ourselves comfortable, that she would be right back. She left and we went onto the balcony.