Kinky Love Under Lockdown

This is a story involving scat play between adult males. All characters are eighteen years old or over. If this isn't your sort of thing or it is illegal for you to view it wherever you are, please leave now. This story is entirely fictitious, and any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.

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Kinky Love Under Lockdown

Chapter One

It's funny how you can live with someone and yet never get to know them. Ed and I had shared the flat for nearly five months, ever since the friend I'd originally rented it with had got herself a job down south. It was nice and spacious, and it was cheap for the area, so rather than move out I'd just advertised for a flatmate, and he'd been the first faintly suitable person to respond. He was 21, about five years younger than me, and like me he was gay. He was a nice enough guy, but we didn't have all that much in common. I was doing a doctorate at the local university, and after a few years shagging and drinking and necking pills I'd started to take life a bit more seriously. He was a dancer and a model whose career was just starting to take off, and he was a party animal who brought the odd pretty lad home from a club and shagged him loudly with music on when I was trying to sleep. We lived pretty separate lives, and even though on the odd evening we did have a drink or a spliff together, or I cooked a meal for us both, when I thought about it I still didn't know very much about him. He was perfectly polite and pleasant, even actively friendly sometimes, but just a bit detached, and he didn't seem at all interested in getting to know me or vice versa.

I did fancy him, though. Everybody did, because he was absolutely fucking gorgeous. He was tall and slim and smooth, his skin slightly tanned-looking, with thick spiky hair that he dyed anywhere from nearly black to dirty blonde, and striking blue eyes and high cheekbones. He spent hours running and in the gym, and even though he liked weed and cheap cocktails and ecstasy and he didn't eat that great a diet he was still incredibly toned. He had prominent pecs and a six pack, and narrow hips with a pert, slim arse. He dressed really well, too, especially since he got free clothes from some of the places he modelled for. Sometimes I really envied the young guys he brought back with him and chatted with on Grindr, and fantasised about having sex with him; dark, kinky sex that was my deepest secret.

So we lived this sort of parallel existence until the coronavirus outbreak, and then it all changed. In the space of three days he lost all of his work and had to sign on for benefits, whilst I was told to work from home and all my travel plans were cancelled. Luckily I was one of those people who doesn't like to run out of things and always has a few extra supplies in, so we were well stocked with food and household stuff when the panic buying broke out, and a few days after that the country was locked down. All of a sudden Ed and I were under virtual house arrest together, and got out only for shopping trips and when one of us went for a run. At first it didn't go well. He was frustrated and angry at having lost his job and most of his hectic social life, and having him around all the time was disruptive when I was still trying to write my thesis. He used to listen to music while he worked out with the sound up loud enough that I could hear it in my room, and he watched TV with the sound turned up and without his headphones on late at night when I was trying to sleep. We ended up having a shouting match about it in the kitchen and at first he went to storm out, but then he came back and apologised. That kind of broke the ice between us. That evening we had a smoke together for the first time in a while. Neither of us smoked cigarettes but we both liked the occasional joint, and a mate of mine with a grow at home had given me a big bag of the stuff to tide me over the lockdown. We started doing it regularly, and we started eating together more often as well. He'd tended to live on convenience foods and takeaways, but I was a pretty good cook and now it seemed cheaper, easier and safer for me to cook for us most evenings, and as often as not we'd have a bottle of wine or two together as well. We got to know each other, and I started to like him a lot more. He was a well-meaning, straightforward sort of lad, and although he was no intellectual he wasn't stupid by any means. I started to notice him more in a physical sense too. As I went to my room to work one evening I heard him masturbating on his bed when the door was ajar; he left his used underwear on the bathroom floor; and he didn't remember to open the window when he'd been for a shit.

It was maybe inevitable that we'd end up shagging. We were both horny and frustrated – especially him, who put it about more than I did – and one evening we got pissed on vodka and tonics and ended up in bed together. I found another side to him them; a horny, uninhibited bottom who squealed in ecstasy as I licked down his back and into his crack, and tongued his pink, slightly hairy little arsehole until he was gasping and moaning and begging me to take him from behind. I fucked him doggy-style on the bed, slow at first but then faster and harder until he came and spurted all over his sheets, and I came inside him. We slept together that night, although the next day it was a little bit awkward between us, and we slept in our own beds again from then on. We might end up shagging every so often, I concluded, but we weren't going to end up getting together.

A few nights later we sat down after dinner with some wine, and got talking about sex. He'd calmed down a bit recently, but he'd really put it about when he was younger, had a few threesomes and so on, and he had some stories to tell. He reached out and poured himself another drink, already with that slightly heavy-eyed look he got when he was getting drunk. He reached out and took the joint I'd been smoking and took a long drag.

'Go on then Cameron,' he grinned. 'What's your fetish, then? You got one? Something kinky that turns you on...'

In truth I had loads, but I wasn't going to admit to the kinkiest ones. We had to live together, and there was no way I was even going to hint that I liked shit, and certainly not that I might like the smell he left in the bathroom, still less that I'd fantasised about being his toilet. The scat fetish I'd had since I was young but only ever found a couple of guys for short, slightly uncomfortable sessions with was dirty and shocking, and it would have to stay my secret. Instead I admitted something much milder.

'Oh ... well, spanking. Nothing too heavy, but I have been, once or twice...'

'Heh, yeah, so I've I. Just lightly though, with his hand...'

'Same here. Oh, well, I've been belted a few times, and caned. So, what about you, then?' I asked. 'Do you have any...?'

'Er ... yeah. One or two. I ... well, I like being tied up. Y'know, handcuffed to the bed when I'm being fucked, tied up and tickled and that kind of thing.'

'Ah, so that's what that pair of handcuffs in your room's all about!'

'Ha ha, yeah. Used them a few times!' He chuckled and raised his eyebrow at me archly, and licked his lips. He was definitely drunk now and losing some of his inhibitions, and he started to talk again with the air of someone letting me into his confidence. 'I guess it's the ... helplessness of it that really turns me on. I'm a bit of a sub really and I ... well, I like things a bit dirty too. I once got a golden shower off some lad. It was ... well, to be honest it was well fucking hot!'

'Blimey!' I looked him up and down, imagining the scene as some guy pissed on his hunky young body. 'That's ... actually really horny. So you like piss, then?'

'Er ... yeah. And ... well, I have fantasised about scat. Never done it of course, but I've thought about it...'

'Are you serious?!'

He went bright red and looked at the floor, and took a gulp of his drink.

'Er ... yeah. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know it's a bit extreme. Like I say, it's only ever something I've thought about. I'd never do it...'

'I would.'

'What?!' This time it was his turn to start with surprise, and he almost spilled his wine. 'Did you just say...?'

'Yeah. I wasn't going to admit that one, but if you have... Yeah, I've always had a thing for hot guys having a shit as well. It's so ... taboo, I suppose. Something we're so private about, and that's what makes it hot.'

'Er ... yeah, something like that. It's a kind of ... manly thing to do. Love a guy who grunts and farts while he's ... y'know...'

'Heh, yeah! Look, that bottle's empty. Shall I get another one?'

'Er ... nah, probably better not. I've had enough already I think. Might go to bed, actually...'

After he'd gone I sat up finishing my glass and thinking. I wondered if he'd gone to bed out of embarrassment at what he'd just admitted to, and I worried that he might regret having said it and things would be all awkward again. Maybe he was even so drunk he wouldn't remember it. It'd be best not to say anything in the first instance, I resolved; just act normal and see what happened in the next couple of days, especially when one of us went to the toilet! Then if he showed any interest I'd just take things very slowly and not push him. He'd said he liked guys shitting, but that was all, and I'd no idea whether his interest just went as far as watching guys on the toilet or whether he fantasised about more. It was maybe a good thing he'd gone to bed when he had, actually, otherwise with a few drinks inside me I might have said enough to scare him off. I fantasised about guys shitting on me, and just once I'd met a guy who'd done exactly that. I might also have owned up that I liked guys shitting themselves, and even how a while ago, when he'd gone over to Manchester for a messy weekend with some of his friends, I'd dirtied my pants in the living room and wanked off sitting on the toilet with my arse covered in shit. It had blown my mind, like it always did, and I actually howled out loud as I came. He didn't need to know about that, though, unless I was sure he'd be cool about it. That might become clearer in the morning, I though, and I wondered what would happen when one of us inevitably needed a shit!

The next morning I woke up with a rotten hangover, took a couple of aspirins and crawled through to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. It was still quite early, and as usual Ed was still asleep. He was much more of a night owl than me and he needed more sleep as well, and often he wouldn't get up until nine or ten, whereas during the week my alarm went off at six and I usually went for a run before I started my day's work and even on a weekend I was usually up by seven. There was no way I felt like running that morning, though, and I cleared the empty glasses and ashtray away in the living room and settled down on the sofa with a coffee and the morning news.

A quarter of an hour later I started to need a shit. I usually went early in the morning and when I'd a hangover I often needed to go first thing, but I cursed even so. I'd been hoping I could hold it until he was awake. I wasn't going to say anything about it, but I'd wanted him to be aware I'd done it, just to see how he reacted. It was no good, though: my chute filled up quickly and in a few minutes I was squirming in discomfort. I gave in and went for a shit, wondering for a moment if I should leave the door unlocked in case he came in, and then telling myself not to be silly. Neither of us ever did that normally and it'd be way too obvious. I pulled my pants down hastily, sat down on the toilet and unloaded a big hangover shit. My shit usually reeked, and when he'd first moved in I'd even been a bit embarrassed about it, but he'd never seemed to notice and I'd soon forgotten about it. That morning I sat and splish-splashed loudly, and filled the room with the rank smell of my hangover shit. When the sludgy brown flow stopped I got up and opened the window a little, and then sat down and started dumping again. Just as I was finishing off wiping my arse I heard his bedroom door open, and my stomach plummeted a little. He was up earlier than I'd expected, and he was going to know I'd been for a shit after all. I reminded myself to play it cool and not say anything.

He was sitting at the kitchen table when I got back, wearing only his boxer shorts and the old T-shirt he slept in, sipping a coffee with his hair all over the place. The toaster popped up as I walked in.

'Morning,' he grinned. 'Sleep well?'

'Yeah, okay. Got a hangover though! Oh well, at least it's Saturday. How about you?'

'Nah, I feel fine. Hang on; back in a second.'

He got up and went for a piss, and my stomach dropped again. It would still smell in the bathroom and I'd probably left skidmarks as well. I poured another cup of coffee, went through to the living room and flicked the TV back on. He didn't say anything when he came in a minute later with another coffee and some toast, but I did notice that he shot me a little sidelong glance as he sat down. Normally he was pretty chatty these days, but he didn't say much as we sat watching something neither of us was really interested in. I wondered what he was thinking, and started to get the sense that he did remember last night's confessions and was wondering what to say. Maybe he needed a shit too. That was pretty likely, actually: he normally went early when he'd a hangover, and having coffee in a morning made him go as well. If so, might he even be thinking about doing something there and then? My mouth felt dry and I thought quickly whether there was anything I could say, but it still seemed best not to push it. Twenty minutes later he went to stand up, moving slowly, almost as if he was reluctant. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

'What's up?' I asked, trying not to show any real interest.

'Oh.' He looked down at the floor. 'Nothing. I ... um, just need to go for a poo.'

He looked up again and our eyes met, and he seemed to freeze. He swallowed anxiously and stared at me for a few seconds, and the tension was like nothing I'd ever felt. Then he seemed to steel himself.

'You know we were talking last night...?' he said slowly. 'About ... yeah, that. Well, look, would you maybe want to ... sometime?'

'Yes.' I leaned in towards him. 'Yes, I'd love to. That'd be amazing, if you're up for it...'

'Yeah I am. It does turn me on and I wanna try it. Just one thing though. We gotta live together so ... well, if one of us doesn't wanna do it again then that's it and we'll try and forget about it. Okay?'

'Yes, definitely, and I won't...' I remembered just in time that he didn't know I'd actually had a bit of experience. 'And ... erm, only what we're both comfortable with.'

'Course. Yeah, take it steady and all that. So ... look, d'you wanna come with me now? If you want...?'

'Really?! Yes!'

'Er ... well I'll just sit on the toilet, and you watch, okay? Fuck me, never thought I'd actually do this, but...'

'No, nor did I. We'll leave the door open, and just tell me to leave any time if you don't like it. Okay?'

He nodded and led the way. Everything felt unreal as we scuttled across the hallway and into the bathroom. He was breathing hard, and when he put the toilet seat down and turned around to face me I saw he had the makings of a hard-on bulging out the front of his boxer shorts. I sat down on the side of the bath, just a few feet away from him. He hesitated and gulped again, and for a moment I thought he'd lost his nerve. But then he took a deep breath and pulled down his boxer shorts.

Ed had the most beautiful bottom. His cheeks were slim, but bubbly and full all the same, and inside his pants his always slightly tanned skin was paler and perfectly smooth. The light streaming in through the window seemed to make it shine, and it bent into the most beautiful curve as he sat himself down. He leaned forward a bit, and rested his forearms on his knees. I've always loved the sight of a hot guy on the toilet, with his pants around his ankles and his top hitched up, showing off his back and his arse and his hairy thighs, all vulnerable and undignified as he does his most private business. Now gorgeous young Ed, who made a living from the stunning beauty of his body and what he could do with it was sitting right in front of me, psyching himself up to do what every instinct told him to do alone. The intimacy of it felt awesome, and my dick throbbed painfully in my pants. He fidgeted for a moment and looked round.

'Sure...?' he asked.

'Yes! Go on, take a shit now...'

He nodded and looked away, and leaned forward a little more. Then he drew breath and seemed to relax, and my dick felt as if it would burst. His bottom heaved a little on the seat and he let out a little 'poof' from his hole, and tensed up again. I smelled it a second or two later; the same smell I'd many times encountered after he'd been in here, and it turned me on more than ever. I love the smell of a hot guy's shit, and Ed's was just delectable! His aroma was never very strong and if he opened the window it dispersed in a few minutes, but it was warm and fresh, with no harshness but a subtle dirtiness that really turned me on. I glanced up momentarily and noticed that the window was shut again – he must have closed it when he went for a piss – and my dick twitched. In front of me his body's needs overcame his shyness. He bowed his head slightly, his bottom heaved on the seat and he let out a long breath. From underneath him came a squeak and a hiss, and a slow, slimy crackle...

'Ploop ...ploop ...plomp ... plop.'

I pawed at my cock through my pants as he had a shit. The filthy sound of it seemed to echo in the room and the smell grew thicker. He sat very still, looking down at the floor, with his face all serious and his lips pursed, until at the last heavy splash he sighed under his breath and his mouth relaxed again. He cleared his throat and fidgeted, and looked round at me.

'Like it...?' he smiled. 'Ooh, you do, don't you! Fucking hell, it's mad horny doing this ... think I'm too hard to piss!'

He leaned back a bit and pressed his dick down into the bowl to try. Quickly I got up and pulled my pants down, and he grinned as he clocked my raging hard-on. But then his face stiffened again and he farted softly, and his bottom started to make little slimy noises. He sat and looked into my eyes and pushed out another long turd.

'Ploop ...ploop ... plop! ... Plip-plop.'

'Uh,' he grunted as the last light splash sounded.

'Mmm!' I leaned in a bit closer, sniffing and drinking in his rich, rounded aroma, 'Phew, Ed, that smells nice!'

'You like it?!'

'Er ... yeah. It's kind of hot how a guy smells. Er ... have you finished?'

'Think so.' He strained a couple of times. 'Yeah, I'm done. Wanna see it?'

He stood up and shuffled forward a pace, and I leaned in over the toilet. His shit was a beautiful chestnut colour, all smooth curved turds with broken ends sticking up out of the water here and there, and a long straight log lying across the top. The smell of it rose up around me, and I edged and dribbled cum onto the floor. He was fingering his hard-on too, and then as he saw how excited I got looking at his shit he grinned broadly.

'Cam ... d'you wanna wipe my bum for me?'

'Sure!' I wasn't going to turn that down. 'How do you do it normally? Sit or stand?!'

'I stand, man. Here you are, here's some paper...'

He bent over a bit and parted his cheeks, and showed me his hole with just a little shit crusted around it. He flared it out beneath my fingers as I reached in and drew a pad of paper slowly across it, making a faint brown smear, and he gave a little sigh. I folded the paper and wiped him again, and once more the little sound he made told me he was enjoying it. He was nearly clean now, and I folded one more pad of paper, reached in and gave him a little rub.

'Ooh! Keep doing that! Feels nice!'

He stuck his bottom back further and wanked excitedly, and I stood and played with him for a moment, rubbing and stimulating his hole with the toilet paper, amid the smell of what had just come out of it. Suddenly he straightened up and spun round. His long, elegant cock was fully hard now, thrusting out in front of him, pulsating and dribbling pre-cum from its end.

'Gonna cum!' he breathed. 'You too ... cum all over my shit.'

We closed in one the toilet together, wanking, looking down at his big shit and the crumpled paper I'd cleaned him with afterwards. I was amazed by it, like it wasn't possible that so handsome a young man as Ed could do something so foully erotic, still less be turned on by it. I started to cum at once, and then so did he, and we both gasped and yelped out loud as we spunked all over his shit.

We had a shower together afterwards, and for the rest of the day we were all affectionate with one another, like we'd had sex again. We did, later in the day, when he got frisky and I gave him a blowjob in the kitchen. That evening we opened some more wine and cuddled up together on the sofa with a film. He reached out and took a sip, and smiled cutely as he asked the question that had remained unspoken all day.

'So ... what happened earlier. Are we gonna do it again then? That curry you made earlier, with all those vegetables and lentils, it'll make me have such a poo in the morning!'

'Ha ha, yeah, I did think of that! Yes, of course I'm up for it again. It was awesome watching you shit. Do you wanna do the same for me? Or maybe something different...?'

'Er ... I'd love to watch. Not sure about something else. This is all new to me really. Never thought I'd meet someone else who likes it and I wanna do it with. But now...'

We cracked open another bottle of wine and chatted late into the night. He wasn't into scat the way I was, I found. For me it was something I'd explored quite a bit in porn and on my own, whereas for him it was something he vaguely fantasised about. He hadn't really found out what turned him on yet, but even though he was quite pissed he got rock hard as I told him some of my kinks, and he looked at me in amazement as I admitted what I'd done in the bathroom. I'd let him get the impression earlier that I didn't have any experience and I did wonder if he'd resent my misleading him, but he didn't seem to care. For him it was just a thrill to be talking with someone who shared that most taboo of fetishes, and who might make some of his horniest wank fantasies come true! Sometime about midnight we called it a night, and curled up together in his big comfy bed.

The next morning found us in the living room, naked apart from our opened dressing gowns, reaching out to touch and wank one another as he sat drinking coffee. He reached out and put his cup down, and winced slightly.

'I really need a poo, Cam,' he said, making saucer eyes.

In truth I was getting a bit desperate myself. You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife, and the smell of my farts hung around us. I was much smellier than him, and the first time he'd leaned over me and grown a huge hard-on as he sniffed.

'Ooh, you like the smell too?!' I'd asked him

'Yeah! I've ... I've wanked in a couple of times when you've been for a shit Your stink really gets me going!'

'Ha ha, I've done the same thing to you a few times! Hang on, another one's coming...'

He'd shot me his sexiest grin and slid off the sofa onto the floor, and held my legs back for me to do it in his face. He'd sniffed eagerly and whimpered, and when he lifted his head up and looked at me he was wearing the same intense, excited expression as I'd seen the day before and his meaty cock was standing up proud. I squirmed a bit in my seat, with my shit pushing hard at my back door.

'You need to go too, don't you,' he smiled. 'Come on, let's go and do it together...'

We got up, pulled off our dressing gowns and hastened across the hallway. In the bathroom a flattened bin liner was already spread on the floor, and next to it a roll of toilet paper, and the mop bucket to catch any piss. He led the way in and knelt down and motioned me to squat down over the bin liner. I had an uncontrollable hard-on, but my heart was racing and I felt almost scared. No-one had ever watched me shit, and doing it here for him felt like a big deal. I had visions of him being disgusted by it, even being sick with the smell and bolting out of the room to get away. But then, he must have felt the same mixture of nerves and shame and sheer horniness yesterday as I was then, the same conflict between the body's painful need to dispose of its waste and the mind's desire to do the nasty in private. He'd given in and done it, and very soon I was going to have to do the same. He shuffled in a bit closer, breathing hard and wanking his big cock. The pressure inside me suddenly became irresistible, and he drew breath sharply as I grunted, and gave into the basic animal urge.

'Cor!' he breathed. 'Cam! ... Ooh, wow, that's massive!'

I grew a big slimy tail that fell away from me onto the bag, and then covered one end of it in a big pile of smooth curls. They pulled away from my bubbling, hissing hole one after another and flopped down onto my pile with soft little noises. Behind me he tugged at his cock, and let out a little horny whimper when I strained and did a wet fart and another short surge of soft turds.

'Phew, Cam, that stinks!' he breathed. 'So nasty. Mmm!'

A smooth turd snaked down the chute, and coiled out with a filthy crackle. He leaned in closer and sniffed, and wanked still harder. In front of his face my pile grew bigger, the smell filled the room, and he wanked excitedly.

'Ooh! Oh ... Cam! I thought it'd be hot watching you shit, but fuck me, this is ... feel like I could cum! I really need a shit too now. I'm busting! Have you done?'

Yeah, I've finished now. Hang on...'

I moved forwards and turned around, and reached for the bog roll. There was no time for that, though, for he turned straight around and stepped backwards, squatted down over the bag and gave a grunt of relief. I leaned in closer, and watched intently as his little pink hole eased out and the tip of his thick, chocolatey turd peeped through it. It paused, then he grunted and strained again, and my dick went crazy as I watched him push out his shit. He did a couple of small lumps, and then a smooth, cracked turd extended slowly downwards from his pulsing hole. It squeaked and crackled softly, and three chunky curls pulled stickily away from it and dropped onto the bag. He strained a little, breathed out and grew a thinner brown tail that tapered off and fell heavily across his pile.

'Uh,' he grunted. 'Ooh...'

I could smell it now; his subtle, warm aroma mingled with my rank stink. I leaned in closer to smell it more distinctly, until I could almost feel the warmth of his shit. His dick was rock hard, twitching up and down as he strained and even dribbling a tiny bit of piss, and right in front of my face his busy little hole twitched and flared in and out. Then he began to grunt again and pushed out another column, a bit thinner than his first, and a long slim tail reached almost down to his logs before it dropped across them, and then a curled turd dropped from him, and another. I was so close he could feel my breath on his bottom, and the crackle and squelch seemed very loud. Down here I could really smell it too, sharper and more insistent now it wasn't held back by the water of the toilet, and wonderfully erotic. I leaned back a bit and watched him finish, flaring his hole and straining a few times to get rid of one last stubborn turd. He turned around quickly and we knelt over our shit. His wasn't quite as big as mine, but he'd done a beautiful pile of chestnut-brown logs, while mine was a ragged dark heap. He was wide-eyed and breathing hard, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening, and his hard-on thrust out towards me. I reached out and fingered it, and he sighed.

'Ooh ... oh make me cum now Cam. Wanna cum on your shit...'

I wanked him harder, and he reached out and did the same to me. We hadn't even wiped our arses, and we knelt there and wanked one another off amid the stink we'd made together. Then his breathing grew heavy and his eyes closed, and he started to gasp. We wanked madly for a few seconds longer, and then both of us came simultaneously, all over each other's shit.

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