A Standing Agreement (t/M, oral, anal, ws, scat) by Coproman
We've always had a standing agreement, him and me. Well, not really "always"; we tacitly agreed on it only a couple of years ago, not long after I revealed my deepest fetish to him and when he, to my surprise, started indulging me whenever he felt the urge. He felt the urge tonight, which is why I'm still curled up on the couch trying to recover. Fortunately it came while he was at a party at his friend's apartment, which is only a few blocks from here; and remarkably, it also came just before I'd have been unreachable.
A key part of our standing agreement is that he calls only to make sure I'm at home, never to see if I want it. It all fits into our dom/sub relationship and is a critical psychological component of my fetish. Also, when he's done, it's important that he not hang around afterwards, unless he feels another urge. Otherwise, he just does it and leaves. In other words, even though he's strictly following my script, I don't want to feel as if I'm in any way in control.
Earlier tonight I had just left my apartment and was headed to the subway to meet up with some friends at a restaurant when I got the call.
"Where you at?" he asked.
"Almost at the subway," I said, my heart thumping away and my dick instantly hardening just from the sound of his voice. "On my way downtown."
"Well, go back home," he said. "I'm comin' over."
Before I could respond, he'd already hung up. With no hesitation, I turned around and walked back to my place, texting my friends to let them know that I had to cancel due to a family emergency.
Back inside the house, now, I am trying to calm myself down before he arrives, but it never works. As soon as the doorbell rings, I get all excited again; and when I open the door and see him standing there giving me a crooked smile, my excitement is through the roof, though I try not to show it. He's been drinking. I can smell it on his breath. But knowing that only makes me hornier. It's always better when he's had a few.
We're a weird combo: I'm 27, he's 17; I'm light-skinned, he's dark-skinned; I have my own place, he still lives with his parents. The most obvious difference, though, is that I am a slim 5'8 and he is a super-fit 6'3. I grew up as friends of his older siblings, and whenever we went somewhere and he tried to follow us, we would shoo him away, and he would just stand there with this forlorn look on his face. Then one day, seemingly overnight, everything turned around, he was towering over us, and when we wanted to follow him somewhere, he'd shoo us away and WE'D stand there looking forlorn.
How we latched on to each other sexually I'm not quite sure. Despite his amazing good looks and often seeing him walking down the street with a girl on each arm, I always suspected he was at least bi and probably gay. I'm guessing he suspected the same about me, even though I'd dated his sister and one of his female cousins. In any case, one day, when he was 15, he dropped by my apartment to look at some of my vintage comic books, and the next thing you know, his ten-inch dick was balls deep in my ass, and I was howling like a banshee as he fucked the living shit out of me! Besides the sex itself, the most remarkable thing about that first fuck was the amount of hot teenage sperm he pumped inside me. I'd had no idea it was so much until nearly half an hour after he'd left, when I felt something sticky oozing down the inside of my thigh. All I could do was smile, even knowing that he had probably destroyed my asshole in the process. But sacrificing it for the sake of providing his magnificent stretch limo with a new parking place was well worth it.
Though we fucked regularly after that, it still took about a month for me to feel comfortable enough to confess my deepest kinky desire to him. So I told him. But when his face scrunched up into a horrific frown, accompanied by a "Fuck! That's the nastiest fuckin' shit I EVER heard of!" I felt I'd made the biggest mistake of my life, and that once he'd left my house, I'd never see or hear from him again.
But two days later, he showed up unannounced, and when I opened the door and saw him standing there, he didn't have to say a word: I could tell by the look on his face that he had come to fulfill my nasty fantasy. And he did...in a hit-and-run way that established the basic terms of our standing agreement, meaning he just did it and left, that first time probably out of sheer embarrassment. But I saw it--as I still do today--as his way of indicating that, in my wanting to do something so disgusting, I was so worthless as a bottom that I didn't deserve to be graced with his continued presence when he was done.
"Yo, hurry up," he says, pushing past me to enter my apartment. "I gotta get back to the party."
Rushing me is another part of what turns me on, so I strip quickly, tossing my clothes all over the place, and lie face-up on the carpet. He, on the other hand, casually removes one piece of clothing after another, carefully folding each one up and neatly placing them one on top of the other in the easy chair. So after rushing me, he's taking his own sweet time. But I don't mind because, even though it's frustrating, I love the tease, love watching him slowly reveal that fabulous young body of his.
Finally, he pulls down and steps out of his briefs, unleashing his big black cock. Though at this point it's only semi-hard, it's already leaking precum. Walking over to me, he puts one foot on either side of my torso, and stands over me, staring down at me with that crooked smile. From my perspective he looks like the Jolly Not-So-Green Giant, and I feel very small and vulnerable under him. Then he slowly turns around, presenting me with his black bubble butt in all its smooth, unblemished glory. Two seconds later he squats, and that butt is right my face. A faint odor of shit wafts into my nostrils, and I feel my cock twitch in response, as well as in anticipation of what's to come.
His smooth black ass is every bit as beautiful as his face, and I can't stop admiring it. It occurs to me that, oddly, I am more intimately familiar with the terrain of this part of his anatomy than he is. It would be much easier for me to pick out his ass in a lineup than it would be for him, since I've surveyed its subtleties so many times. As usual, though, I end up focusing only on his anus, a smoothly puckered pit which right now is kissing at me, teasing me as to how much it's holding back and, consequently, how much I'll have to eat.
"You ready?" he asks.
I don't answer because it's not really a question. It's just his way of letting me know that HE's ready, and that I should prepare to eat it, whether I'm ready or not. Again, it is part of our standing agreement. Hard and chunky or soft and creamy, a morsel or a full load--whatever the consistency or amount, it's going to wind up in my stomach. Fortunately I never made it to dinner, so my stomach is empty, which means I was ready as soon as I got his phone call.
So I wait for it while continuing to gaze at his asshole. Poised just a few inches above my face, it continues to kiss at me like a beautiful little pair of lips. I want to kiss it back, to make love to it by giving it a long, sensual French kiss. But when I tried to do that once, he instantly lifted up, explaining that feeling my tongue up his ass only made it harder for him to go since he needs to maintain the illusion of a real toilet bowl beneath him instead of my mouth. So another part of our standing agreement is that I restrain myself and just wait patiently for nature to take its course. Yeah, it objectifies me, but considering my need for this, I'm more than willing to go along with anything that makes him feel more comfortable giving it to me.
Tonight, though, nature first takes its course a different way, as he shifts backwards, bends back his semi-hard cock, and pokes the head in my mouth. As I hold it between my lips, first a trickle then a rush of hot piss floods my mouth. To keep up with it, before it overflows, I steadily swallow it at the back of my throat. It tastes like warm beer, and I wonder, fancifully, if there's enough alcohol left in beer piss to get tipsy from drinking it.
When his golden stream finally dries up, I lick his urethra to get the last drops, and when he pulls his dick out of my mouth, I let go with a long, loud burp, which makes him snicker. Afterwards he shifts forward again, taking a quick look back to make sure he's on target before settling his asshole over my mouth again. So I'm back to waiting for nature to take its course.
Fortunately nature doesn't keep me waiting. Only seconds later his anus purses open, just enough to reveal its pink interior and the tip of a light-brown turd, both of which contrast nicely against his dark-brown skin. Though I've watched this movie many times before, it never gets old, and my dick gets even harder as his anus swells open wider and wider, stretching to the max as it prepares to release the hefty load filling his bowels. The steamy odor of his shit permeates my nostrils, but it is not overpowering. In fact, I can't remember ever being turned off by the smell. I think my brain just accepts it as a not-so-subtle reminder of the nasty act I'm performing.
As the first two inches of turd push out of his hole, I open my mouth as wide as I can and stick out my tongue. An additional three inches emerge before he squeezes his sphincter shut, causing the thick five-inch log to drop with a soft splat into my mouth; at the same time, his dick spits a sticky dollop of pre-cum onto my chest. The dual discharge pleases me to no end, and let out a grunt of satisfaction, which tells him that he's off to a great start while also letting him know that he needs to allow me time to negotiate what he's fed me before settling down to give me the rest.
It's hard to describe the ecstasy I feel with my lips wrapped around this teenager's turd. The utter insanity of a handsome high-schooler feeling the urge to move his bowels and choosing to come all the way to my house, bypassing dozens of toilets along the way, including the ones at the party and down the hall, to use my mouth as a toilet is a major turn-on all by itself. Couple that with the sheer nastiness of eating someone's shit straight from the source, and it produces an overall sensation in me that comes damned close to making me cum without even touching myself! But I manage to saddle my libido long enough to hold back a premature ejaculation.
As he does his business, he doesn't say a word, totally ignoring me, as if he's alone in the bathroom sitting on the toilet or, more accurately, squatting on one of those Japanese toilets. The only sounds are the squishy, squelching sound of shit pushing past his anus, my lips smacking loudly as I chew it, and, of course, my moans and groans of pleasure mixed with desperation as I swallow it as fast as I can, not knowing how much there is and not wanting to accidentally choke on it. The voyeurs, being uninitiated, always want to know how human feces tastes, if it's sweet or salty or sour or bitter. Well, all I can say is that it's basically bland, having more smell than taste, which is why it's such a challenge to eat in the first place, especially when there's a lot of it.
There is certainly a lot tonight. After that first super-chunky turd, what follows is just as bulky but slightly softer, so I don't have to chew it as much to get it down. As I eat it, I'm pondering what HE ate to produce such a formidable bowel movement. Whatever it was, I welcome the challenge of re-eating it, since I consider myself an elite among human toilets, meaning I won't count any shit-eating session as successful unless I consume everything I'm fed--and I mean every last crumb. And though my teenage companion has never said so, I think he appreciates this, or at least his dick does, as it continues to spit globs pre-cum onto my chest.
Though I try to stay in the moment as I devour his dung, I keep going back to that first time and continue to wonder what made him decide to come back. What went through his head in those two days after I shared my fetish with him that, despite his negative reaction, brought him back to my house? Was he curious to see if I'd really do it? Did he discuss it with some voyeurist friends who urged him to "go for it" and report back to them? Or was it something else? And beyond that first time, what keeps him coming back? Though he still swears that doing it disgusts him, and while I often won't hear from him for weeks, he always eventually returns, like the Prodigal Son...or, perhaps more appropriately, like a moth to a flame.
As eager as I am to know the answers to these questions, I cannot bring myself to ask him, for fear he'll think about them too much and reconsider our agreement. No, some things are better not to be analyzed but to simply be done and enjoyed. So rather than delving into undue contemplation, I decide to put such questions on the back burner and enjoy wallowing in my filthy fetish while he sees fit to indulge me. After all, who knows if he'll get tired of doing of it one day, or if I'll ever be lucky enough to encounter another handsome young man who's willing to feed me?
After shitting for what seems like hours, he finally empties his bowels. I know because his asshole is puckering again but nothing is coming out. So after chewing up and gulping down the last mouthful of his feces, I spread his cheeks, lift my head and give his asshole a thorough cleaning with my tongue, carefully licking away all the leftovers. At last, for good measure, I give him the French kiss I longed to give him before, sealing my lips over his anus and drilling my tongue inside, at this point to make sure no stray shit ends up as skid marks in his underwear. When I finally pull back, a very loud fart follows my tongue's exit, and this triggers a very satisfying shit burp from me, which again makes him laugh.
But just because he's laughing doesn't mean he trusts me, so before he gets up, he reaches over and pulls a couple of Kleenex out of a box that I have placed on the coffee table right next to him for his convenience. He wipes himself and, afterwards, carefully examines the tissues. But there is nothing to see but the wetness of my saliva, so he casually discards them on the floor and stands up, as I silently mouth "yes!" in triumph.
He turns around and looks down at me again. I automatically open my mouth wide and stick out my shitty tongue to show him that I have swallowed everything he's fed me. He frowns, looking at me like I'm a thousand times more disgusting than anything that came out of his asshole. At the same time, he's sporting a RAGING erection. It is thick, veiny, super-hard, and has a huge head, like some kind of weird club. And it's still dribbling pre-cum. Sitting majestically atop his baseball-sized pouch of balls, it looks downright menacing. As I stare up at it, I am both frightened and exhilarated by the idea of having it shoved up my ass, especially since I am already filled to the gills with his piss and shit. So while one part of me is hoping he'll just leave, a bigger, hornier part is praying that his obvious current urge is overwhelming to the point that he'll need to satisfy it before he returns to the party.
So you can imagine how that hornier part feels when when he turns around again, walks over to the easy chair, and picks up his briefs. Talk about disappointment! But I quickly realize that all hope is not lost, because when he steps into his underwear, his cock will notcooperate, refusing to be confined. A good three inches of it are sticking up beyond the elastic band, and no matter how much he tries to stuff it inside--up, down, to the left, to the right--it still leaves a prominent bulge. After a while, he gives up.
"Shit, I can't walk down the fuckin' street like this," he mutters.
My heart begins thumping away like crazy again as, much to my delight, he steps out of his underwear and drops them back onto the neatly folded pile of clothes.
"Get your fuckin' ass on the couch!"
Though I'm so stuffed I can barely move, I manage to pull myself off the floor and climb onto the sofa in record time, getting into a wide stance on my knees with my butt high and my head low. We both know from previous occasions that this is the perfect position to line up his dick with my asshole while putting as little pressure as possible on my bloated belly, which is actually touching the seat cushion.
There's no formal lubricant. There never is. He just strokes his dick a few times, spreading the pre-cum all along his shaft, then hawks up a big wad of saliva, crouches down, spits it on my asshole, and jabs a couple of fingers in me, making me wince. As he twists those fingers around to open me up, I'm thinking how, logically, this should be happening the other way around: Since HE just emptied HIS bowels, I should be preparing to fuck HIM up the ass. But things only work that way in FlipFuck Land; in Top/Bottom World, you're either the fuckER or fuckEE, and several seconds later, I am rudely reminded of which one I am.
"Nnngghh!" I complain as he forces the oversized head of his super-hard cock into my anus.
"Take that fuckin' dick, shit-eater!" he growls, forcing another inch inside me, then steadily introducing more and more of his nearly foot-long pole into my asshole until, finally, he's fully docked.
Unfortunately I haven't reached my threshold yet, so I'm feeling little more than a searing, throbbing pain in my butt, as if the trunk of an oak tree has been shoved up my ass. But I know from experience that this will pass, the hurt will begin to get good, and that I will start feeling the peculiar pain/pleasure of being on the receiving end of deep anal sex. It will just take time. I'm just hoping that he's not as impatient about getting his rocks off as he seems to be about getting back to the party.
Fortunately he's not. Once he's fully implanted in me, he keeps all ten inches right there, no doubt savoring the heat and tightness of my rarely used back door. Meanwhile I am not only adjusting to his cock but also appreciating the big difference between it and the dildo I use to fuck myself. While it's okay in a pinch, nothing compares to the living, pulsating organ presently filling my bowels. It's not only solidly embedded in my rectum but extending considerably beyond it, with the head and a good part of the shaft lodged somewhere in my sigmoid colon. In other words, I'm completely skewered on his human sword--and I couldn't be more satisfied.
Almost two full minutes pass before he finally pulls back, leaving just the head inside me; then he waits another full minute before pushing back in, after which he slowly begins to fuck me. By this time the pain and the pleasure are all delightfully mixed together in my body and doing a number on my libido.
"Yeah, DO it!" I hear myself say in a breathy, seductive voice. "Gimme that fuckin' dick!"
It's his green light to focus on getting his rocks off and start treating me like the pussyboy I am. He wastes no time doing just that, getting a firm grip on my hips and slamming into me, nailing me, driving the back of my head into the cushion. Yeah, my neck will be sore in the morning, but it's a small price to pay for this bonus gift.
As non-verbal as he was while shitting in my mouth, he is TOTALLY verbal while fucking my ass, and a steady stream of curses and put-downs fills my ears as he rams his rod in me. My inclination is to just listen, but I can't because most of what he says comes in the form of questions, and he expects me to answer:
"You like that big dick up your ass, don't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"Then TELL me, bitch!"
"I LIKE that big dick up my ass!"
"And you like it when I shit in your mouth too, don't you?"
"Yeah, I LOVE it!"
"'Cause you're a fuckin' freak, right?"
"Yeah, I'm a fucking freak!"
"You're a fuckin' shit-eatin' freak who likes gettin' fucked up his high-yellow ass, right?"
"Yeah, that's what I am!"
By now his dick has spurted so much pre-cum in my asshole that I'm lubed up nicely, and the fucking is more comfortable. In fact, with so many endorphins now flooding my brain, I don't even realize at first that I'm helping him attain maximum penetration by rutting my ass back every time he slams into me, resulting in a decisive "smack!" when our bodies collide. But he notices right away.
"Yeah, MOVE that fuckin' booty, bitch!" he hisses. "You been wantin' this shit bad, ain't you?"
"Yeah!"
"That high-yellow booty's hungry for this big black dick, ain't it?"
"Yeah!"
"So how long's it been, anyway?"
"TOO long!"
He laughs then says, "Well, you lucky you gettin' it tonight, 'cause I almost gave it to this cute Puerto Rican girl I met at the party. She was throwin' her shit in my face all night, and I was gonna go home with her and fuck her brains out. But then I had to take a shit, and I thought about your sorry ass and came over here instead. Wasn't that nice of me?"
"Yeah, REAL nice!"
"Then shouldn't you be thankin' me for comin' over and givin' your freak ass what you wanted?"
"Yeah, you're right! Thank you! Thank you SO much for coming over!"
For a moment I wonder how the friends I was planning to meet earlier would react if they knew that the "family emergency" I ditched them for was all about having a handsome 17-year-old stud turn my mouth into a toilet and my asshole into a pussy--and thanking him for doing both! No doubt there'd be a few raised eyebrows, to say the least :-). But I don't regret cancelling on them. After all, how can sitting around chitchatting in a fancy restaurant compare to this?
But this ride is just about to end. I know because I can always tell when he's close. I swear I know even before he does because there are subtle changes in the midst of his powerful fucking. Little guttural sounds, slightly heavier breaths, and tiny twitches of his muscles tell me that his orgasm is approaching. I hear and feel these happening now, and if this had been a different night, his next move would have been to slow down his strokes and maybe rotate his hips a few times to keep from cumming so soon.
But tonight he wants to get back to the party (probably to hook up with the female who was flirting with him), so instead of delaying his orgasm's arrival, he hurries it, gripping my hips even tighter and shifting into high gear. His pubes spank my butt cheeks as he rams his rod in my rectum as hard as he can, rattling my bones with every stroke, bringing my libido to a fever pitch.
"You ready to take that nutt?" he asks between breaths as he continues to pound my poop chute.
"Nngh! Yeah!"
"So where you want it at?"
"Nngh! In my ass!"
"In your high-yellow ass?"
"Nngh! Yeah, in my high-yellow ass!"
"You sure? 'Cause I'm 'bout to bust a BIG one."
"Nngh! Yeah, I'm sure!"
"So you want me to breed you?"
"Nngh! Yeah, breed me! Breed me like a bitch!" I hear myself scream. "I want it!"
"Then TAKE it, you nasty shit-eatin' bitch!" he yells, thrusting that ten-inch tool all the way inside me and pulling hard on my hips to make sure it stays there. "Take it ALL right up that fuckin' high-yellow ass!"
Now he is trembling against me, his cock buried to the balls inside me and throbbing against the walls of my colon as he shoots stream after stream of semen deep in my bowels. In the midst of his climax, my own suddenly appears, and I gasp as I spurt cum all over the seat cushion. I think he noticed that I came, but I'm not sure. Besides, it doesn't really matter. What's more important is that HE came and that hundreds of millions of his teenage baby-makers are now swimming around in my guts, searching desperately for an egg they'll never find.
After emptying his balls, he keeps his dick inside me for a while, until his breathing gets back to normal, upon which he casually pulls it out. His glans exits my pucker with a wet pop, and I immediately feel a rush of cool air back there from being unplugged. I'm sure he can see the ravaged red insides of my gaping, twitching asshole. I want to turn around to get a look at him and his cock post-orgasm, but that's not part of our agreement. I'm to stay put right where I am, with my head down and my eyes closed, until he leaves, no matter how long it takes. Tonight it doesn't take long at all. Within a few minutes I hear the front door slam, and he's gone.
Slowly I open my eyes, lift my head, and turn around. Everything that's happened might have been a dream, but my clothes strewn all over the place, the balled-up tissues on the floor, and the lingering taste of shit in my mouth say otherwise. Also my briefs, which were nice and clean, now have shit smears all over them; apparently fucking me left him with "a shitty deal," as he refers to it, and he used them to wipe his dick off before getting dressed. Add to those images the pervasive smell of sex and shit in the air and the soreness I'm feeling in my asshole, and I'm forced to conclude that, no, this was definitely NOT a dream.
Getting up, I limp into the bedroom and look at myself in the full-length mirror behind my door. I'm sweating profusely, and my belly is not only growling but pooched out like I'm pregnant. Also, my ass cheeks are bright red, as if I've been spanked, and cum is oozing out of my aching anus. As I think about how thoroughly he used me, a part of me feels shame and remorse, and I want to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide there for about a week. But that other part of me feels so completely satisfied, so mellow, so scat-bottom content that I know I'll be in a good mood for at least the next two weeks, as I continually relive everything he did to me tonight. Fortunately the positive feelings quickly swallow up the negative ones.
I'm especially looking forward to my next trip to the bathroom. Being that I ate what he'd already digested, it won't take long for it to make its way through my system, mix with my own shit, and be ready for dumping. The very idea that I will be shitting out what he already shit out is a major turn-on in itself, and I'll most likely wind up doing what I did after our last encounter: jacking off, as I enjoy the pleasant pain of that double load of shit stretching my sore anal ring wide open as it makes its way out of my bowels, and cumming all over myself the moment it plops into the toilet.
When I'm done, I'll feel about five pounds lighter. Then I'll get up and look down in the bowl, taking time to admire the mass of turds filling it while seeing if I can distinguish between his shit and mine. Then I'll take a picture of it to add to my collection of double-dumps after a scat session with him. Only after doing all that will I finally wipe myself, toss the tissue in the toilet, and flush. Of course such a huge load of shit never goes down with just one flush. It will take at least two, maybe even three flushes before it's all on its way to shit heaven.
How long will we continue to honor our standing agreement? Who knows. Probably until one of us finds a more permanent partner. But even then it's going to be hard, I think, for either of us to let go. After all, ours is a unique co-dependency that I can't even begin to imagine having with anyone else. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that he feels the same way.
Send comments to: Coproman69@hotmail.com