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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My Boyfriend's Dirty Secret
Chapter One
I felt the familiar quickening of my heart and the tightness in my throat as I climbed the stairs to the bathroom. Downstairs I heard Jack sit back down on the sofa and flick the television on. His parents had not long gone to work and his younger brother had left for college, and we had the house to ourselves for the day. No doubt later we'd be fucking frantically in the living room, like we'd done the last time we'd had a day alone together. But for now we'd not long been up, and after we'd had some breakfast and a pot of coffee together Jack had vanished into the bathroom. He'd been gone ten minutes and I knew what that meant. It was why I'd gone up for a piss I didn't need as soon as he got back. It was why I fought down the sense of guilt and shame as I crossed the landing, took a deep breath and opened the door.
The bathroom was bright and neat, like the rest of the suburban semi-detached house Jack and his family lived in, and the white suite was immaculately clean. The shower screen over the bath was still wet from the shower his brother had taken before he'd gone out, and on the other side of the room cosmetics were neatly clustered around the washbasin. In between them, below the little frosted window that he hadn't opened, was the toilet. The lid was down: Jack's family were very fastidious about that, whereas at my house we never bothered. Quickly I locked the door behind me, stepped over and lifted it. The seat was still warm to the touch, from where Jack's beautiful smooth bottom had sat on it only a few minutes previously. Heart still thumping, I looked down into the bowl. His skidmarks were a light, golden brown colour; several streaks along the bottom of the pan, and one or two up the sides as well. Then I let out my breath, swallowed nervously, and inhaled the smell. My dick sprang to attention at once. Jack's aroma was rich and warm, filling the room like fog; as personal to him as the shape of his cock or the way he kissed, and erotic beyond belief. All of a sudden I couldn't help myself. I tore down my pants, spun round and sat on the toilet on which he'd just had a dump. I wanked myself off until I came so hard that, if I hadn't clamped a pad of toilet paper over the head of my cock at the last minute, I'd have shot across the room.
Jack and I were each other's first boyfriends. I was nineteen, and still living at home whilst studying at the local university. He was eighteen, and working as a waiter in a restaurant to make some money before he went off travelling for a few months before he too went to uni. The first time I'd seen him, at a bar in town, I hadn't been able to take my eyes off him, because he was so, so beautiful. He was very tall and slim, with the most beautifully lithe body and a sweet, bubbly arse. His skin was just a touch bronzed, and he'd tan easily to a deep brown. His face was a perfect oval, very smooth, and he had the cutest smile that made his bright blue eyes light up. Above them his hair was naturally quite dark but he used to dye it blonde and then let his roots grow out, and sweep it over the top in fashionable style. When we'd got talking and I'd realised he was flirting with me my heart had dropped into my shoes, and then towards the end of the evening, when his friends had come over to nudge him to get his jacket and come back to his mate's place, we'd swapped numbers. Just before he left, he took me aside and we'd kissed for the first time.
That was nearly a year now, and we'd been going steady ever since. I was clear-headed enough to realise it probably wouldn't last, and that his going off travelling would probably be the end, but for now it was wonderful. We hadn't actually said we loved each other but he certainly acted that way, and I was starting to feel that I definitely did. Not only was he beautiful, but he was a lovely person too. He was gentle and kind-hearted, very bright, and when he was in the mood very funny as well. And, of course, the sex was mind-blowing. At first we'd had to grab our chances when our families were all out, but then when we got more serious and got to know one another's families we'd started staying the night at each other's houses. We were both versatile in bed, but I'm more of a top by nature, and Jack much more of a bottom. He'd only been fucked a couple of times before I met him. He was shy about it and he said it hurt too much to be enjoyable, and for a long time we'd just sucked and wanked one another. But then one afternoon when we were really horny I'd rolled him over on his front in bed and worked my way all the way down his back, and then in between his cheeks to lick his tight, hairless little hole, and he'd whimpered and moaned and begged me to take him. We'd done it slowly at first, but then he'd relaxed and made me fuck him harder, until he'd cum all over his bed at the same moment as I shot up inside him. Since then we'd been pretty much completely uninhibited together, and we'd explored a few of our little kinks. We were both young and permanently horny, and acting out our fantasies together gave us an amazing buzz. I'd sometimes fantasised about spanking and sex under restraint, and he'd made me scream and cum again and again one afternoon when he tied me to his bed with a couple of pillows under my waist to lift my arse up, whipped me lightly with his belt and then mounted me, panting excitedly as he did when he was really turned on, and thrust his long, shapely cock up inside. Then he'd admitted he quite liked farts, and I'd given him a big hard-on in bed the morning after when I pushed his head down under the duvet and let out a big one. But that was a long way short of my biggest kink; the nastiest and most taboo fetish of all and the one thing I didn't think I could ever own up to.
I've found having a shit erotic all my life, and I knew it well before I realised I was gay. Even when I was little the thought of some cute lad on the toilet would give me a stiffie, and once I'd hit puberty the fetish had grown much stronger. I'd seen it for what it was one afternoon at school when I was about sixteen. I didn't like going to the toilet there and I usually went at home, but for some reason that day the urge had hit me soon after the lunch break, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold it in. I couldn't face asking to be allowed to go in class, and by the afternoon break I was desperate. Some fit footballer I'd always fancied was just going into the toilets before me. There were only two cubicles free, right next to each other, and me and this gorgeous lad had had to sit and shit right next to each other. The sound of him doing it, and the weird thrill I got out of him hearing me too, had given me such a hard-on that I'd had to wank off there and then. Afterwards I'd felt really guilty, horrified at the thought that something so nasty turned me on, and yet that hadn't stopped me getting off on it. At college I used to go and occupy a cubicle sometime in the morning, usually not even having a shit myself but just enjoying the sounds and smells of fit lads doing it around me. Alone at home I fantasised endlessly about it. Sometimes when I needed a shit I'd squat over a bag in the bathroom, imagining some gorgeous guy with me, either getting off on me doing it or telling me I was disgusting and I stank and he was going to spank me for it. Afterwards I used to push a finger up my bum, wank off and cum all over my own shit. A few times I shat myself, fantasising about having been made to hold it until I was so desperate I lost control and pooed my pants. The orgasms it gave me were the most intense I'd ever had, especially the times I got carried away and sat in it, like I'd seen a couple of lads do in the videos I liked to watch online. In my darkest fantasies I lay on the floor and served some hot guy as his toilet. One lad after another squatted across me and dumped his pile onto my chest, or even my face. A few times I even dreamed about eating it, even though the very thought made me heave. Once or twice, when I was at my horniest, I'd held my face close over my own shit on the floor, feeling its warmth and inhaling my smell, willing myself to put out my tongue and taste it even as I fingered my unwiped bumhole. Some day, I told myself, I'd tip over the edge and do it.
When I'd met Jack my fetish had pretty much disappeared. I was so into him that I didn't really think about it, and on the occasions when it did pop into my head I'd pushed the thought away with a faint sense of disgust. But that hadn't lasted so long. We'd only been going out a few weeks when, one afternoon at my house, he'd excused himself shyly and gone to the toilet, and I'd started to get hard when I realised he'd been gone too long just to be having a piss. The thought of him having a shit was horny beyond belief, and the sense of guilt that fantasising about my boyfriend like that gave me just made it even more exciting. I hadn't been able to resist going in when he was done, and the smell had given me one of the biggest hard-ons I'd ever had. For some reason I'd assumed that such a clean-cut pretty boy whom I'd never heard fart and who always put the toilet lid down wouldn't make much of a smell. Finding out that he did had been a wonderful surprise, and for the first time I'd sat down on the toilet he'd just used and wanked off.
Since then I'd observed Jack's toilet habits as closely as I could. He wasn't shy about having a shit, but he was quite discreet and polite about it, like the nice middle-class boy he was. He usually spoke of the 'loo' rather than the 'toilet,' and having a 'poo' rather than a 'shit' or 'dump.' He seemed to go every day, although not always at the same time. More often than not he excused himself politely and went to the toilet after breakfast, but on other days it was mid-afternoon before he had to go. He usually took about ten minutes over it. I went in after him as often as I could, although I tried hard not to make it obvious. The smell was usually about the same, but when he had a hangover it was stronger and nastier, and his skidmarks were bigger and sometimes a darker colour too. It was weird how he was so punctilious about putting the lid down, and yet never seemed to care that he'd left smears of his shit in the toilet. I couldn't help wondering how he wiped his bum. He was always really clean so I knew he was thorough about it, but did he do it sitting, like me, or was he one of those lads who stood up straight or squatted? And what were his turds like? The little streaky skids he usually left gave the impression that he did solid ones, but did he? Did he fart while he was doing it? Slowly, the thought of him having a shit came to obsess me. But he didn't talk about such things and I didn't feel that I could raise the subject without making him suspicious, and drawing his attention to how I used to go into the toilet after him. There was nothing I could do, and I just accepted that my craving for his shit would have to remain a deep, shameful secret.
Jack and I were both interested in history. I was reading it at university, and the degree he planned to start the following year was in history and politics, so we shared quite a few interests and sometimes we used to have days out at historic sites. At that time, too, my mum was working in the same town as we lived, so I could often borrow her car. That was what I'd done one day when we'd driven over to go to a museum we'd both wanted to visit. It had been a bit of a disappointment, and although we'd expected to stay until the end of the day it was early afternoon when we got into the car for the drive home. Winding our way across the country road towards the motorway I glanced over at Jack. He wasn't saying much, and all of a sudden I noticed he was looking rather uncomfortable too.
'What's up?' I asked.
'Oh, it's just ... I need the loo.'
'Ah, okay. Well there's loads of lay-bys along here, so I can pull in if you want to hop out and have a piss.'
'No,' he said, looking suddenly awkward. 'It's not that. I'm starting to need a poo.'
'Ah.' My heart thumped a bit. 'I don't think there are any toilets off this road, but if you can wait until we get to the motorway we can stop at the services.'
'Yeah, maybe.'
I glanced over at him again. He was gazing fixedly out of the window and his face was very serious, as if he was thinking hard. A couple of times he took a deep breath, as if he was going to say something, but then thought better of it. I wondered what was going through his mind, but then switched my attention back to the road ahead as we reached the junction to join the motorway. He sat quietly as I accelerated down the slip road and onto the carriageway, looked over my shoulder as I pulled out to pass a lorry, and then straight at me.
'It turns you on, doesn't it.'
'What?!'
A few times I'd wondered how I'd handle it if he spotted my habit of going into the toilet after him, but this took me completely aback, and I wasn't feigning the shock and surprise in my voice. I looked over to him and met his beautiful eyes.
'W-what do you mean?' I stammered.
'You know what I mean,' he said calmly. 'Don't think I've not noticed how you always go into the bathroom when you think I've been in there. Is it the smell you like, or what?'
'But ... no, I... it's...'
'Oh come on Lewis. Don't try and pretend you don't do it.'
He only called me by my full name when he was really serious. I could feel myself turning bright red and my stomach churned as I realised I'd been caught, and there was nothing I could do but own up. He looked hard at me and spoke again.
'Look, I've known about it for weeks Lew. The first couple of times you did it I thought it was just coincidence, but then you did it again, and you do it pretty much every time I go. You get off on me having a poo, don't you?'
'Er ... but why've you not said anything before? If you've known ... I mean, if you've thought it for weeks why didn't you say something?'
'Because I don't mind. And because it turns me on too.'
'What?! Fucking hell, really?!'
I was so startled I forgot myself for a moment, right as we were passing a junction, and I had to hit the brakes as a van joined the motorway right ahead of us. He tensed up, and then relaxed again as the danger passed.
'Jack, are you serious?!' I asked.
'Yes. You know I like you farting. When I said that I wanted ... I wanted to see if it shocked you, and when it didn't I kind of thought you were cool enough to handle that sort of ... well, and then I realised you were into me having a poo, and I was kind of waiting for you to say something about it. You don't know I've done the same thing to you, don't you?'
'No! I'd never ... when?!'
'Oh only a couple of times. But yeah, I've been in the loo after you too. You ... um, well, you smell nice! And I was there earlier, when you went for a poo at the museum. It was me who went for a wee while you were in the cubicle. I was listening.'
'Fucking hell! You weren't, were you?!'
'Yes I was. It sounded like you really needed it.'
'I did! So ... fuck me, I can't believe this. But does that mean ... I mean, since you're telling me about it do you want to ... So, shall we ... sometime...?'
He nodded, reached over and put his hand on my crotch, and smiled as he felt my dick stiffen. My head was spinning and it was all I could do to concentrate on my driving. I really meant it when I said I couldn't believe what he was saying. All of a sudden my shameful secret had become something we could share, and the prospect of some of the kinkiest, horniest sex I could imagine was opening up before me. Then I remembered something he'd told me that morning, and my excitement mounted even further.
'Let's go back to my place,' he said quietly. 'Like I said earlier, mum and dad and Ashley are going away today, and I'm not working again until tomorrow night. We can have some fun...'
'Ooh, yes, let's! We'll have to dump the car back at mine, though, cos mum wants it in the morning.'
'That's okay. I don't need to go too badly, and we're not far from home now. I can hold it!'
I glanced over at him again as I moved into the left-hand lane and got ready to leave the motorway for the last few miles back to my house. He looked back, with the sexy little smile he wore when we were alone together playing across his lips, and glanced down at his crotch where a little bulge was showing.
'So...' I said slowly. 'What do you want to do?'
'Just watch me, this first time? I mean, I'll probably be up for doing more than that, but ... let's take it easy, not do too much too soon.'
'Okay, cool. Fucking hell ... I still can't believe this is gonna happen!'
'No, nor can I.' He grinned suddenly. 'It's awesome, isn't it?!'
After we'd dropped the car off at my house we hurried across town to his. We walked close together, looking very furtive and probably making it obvious we were a couple on our way to have sex. As we walked I glanced over at him again. He looked very intense and he wasn't saying much, and he seemed to tense up as we reached his front door. Quickly he unlocked it and we scuttled inside. In the hallway he turned to me and swallowed nervously.
'Okay?' I asked.
'Er ... yeah. I really need a poo. Oh God, this is so weird, isn't it.'
I held out my hands, and when he took them his palms were sweaty. He moved in closer and put his arms round me.
'Look, it's okay,' I whispered in his ear. 'It is weird, but it's what we both want. I promise I won't do anything you're not happy with. We'll just take it nice and slow.'
'Yes, alright ... I trust you.'
His stubble rasped against mine as he turned his head to me, and we stood and kissed for a moment. As we did I ran my hand down his back and into the waistband of his jeans, and fondled his soft, smooth bottom. I could feel his cock rising against mine. Slowly we drew apart.
'Come on,' he said, treading his shoes off. 'Let's do it.'
My legs felt soft and my head was whirling as I followed him up to the bathroom. Everything felt unreal, as if this was happening to someone else and I was just watching it. As we went in he stopped and turned to me, swallowing nervously again. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it and pulled his T-shirt off. His body was supple and smooth, with not even a fuzz of hair between his pert little nipples. When he undid his belt and pulled down his pants I saw that he had a massive hard-on. He stood and stroked it as he watched me strip.
'So ... do you just wanna watch me sit on the loo, or...?'
'Erm ... I'd love to see you do it, if you want? See it come out, I mean, if you want to squat. But ... will you?'
'Yes, okay. Or how about ... if I sit backwards?'
'What, and do it on the floor that way? Ooh! Yes!'
He hesitated a moment, as if he was having second thoughts, but then reached into the cupboard under the washbasin and pulled out a roll of small plastic bags for lining the little bin. He tore one off with shaking hands and put it down on the ground directly in front of the toilet, spreading it well out. I knelt down in the middle of the floor, just a few feet away. As he straightened up again he looked straight at me, hesitating again with his engorged cock sticking straight out in front of him.
'Are you sure, Lew? I mean, you really wanna see me do this?'
'Yes. I really, really do. You know I get off on it, and you ain't gonna ... I'm not gonna be disgusted by it. Go on ... take a dump for me now...'
He nodded, his face very intense, and then turned away from me and straddled the toilet, and showed me his beautiful arse as he lowered himself down so that it hung over the plastic bag. His cheeks were smooth and perfect and there was no hair around his tight pink arsehole. The silence was total, apart from our heavy, excited breathing. He looked around again and caught my eye, and then as I smiled encouragingly he looked away again and bowed his head slightly. I could see his face, lips pursed in a slightly stiff expression as he started pushing. His arse filled out a little.
'Uh.'
His little grunt was the manliest thing I'd ever heard. Looking down I could see my cock actually throbbing, bouncing up and down even thought I wasn't touching it. If I had done I'd have cum straight away. I fixed my eyes on his arse, and watched as it filled out further and his little pink hole twitched and started to pucker out. He grunted again, this time with a faint note of relief, and then I saw his shit as the rounded end of a turd nosed its way through his slowly widening ring. He let it out further, until he had a little brown cone jutting out of him. It was that same beautiful, golden brown as the skidmarks I'd so often seen in the toilet. The smell started to tickle my nose and I felt myself starting to dribble pre-cum onto the floor. Then he gave one more grunt and a little strain, his hole flared wider, and he pushed out his log. It was thick and smooth, and it made the most wonderful slimy sound as it slid out of him. The end of it pulled away and dropped onto the bag with a thud that seemed to echo round the room. More came out, and another lump fell away from it, and then another and another.
'Thud ... thud ... thud ... thump!'
He stopped dropping lumps suddenly and grew a long brown column that hung down from him for a moment, and then tapered off quickly and dropped as he gave another little strain. It landed upright on his little pile, then toppled over and fell to the side. Its end landed over the edge of the bag, on the floor by his right foot.
'Oh fuck...' I breathed. 'Fucking hell!'
'Okay?'
'Mm! Yes! Fuck, it's so horny ... and the smell!'
'You like it?!' he asked.
His voice was strained and soft, and he didn't look round, as if he couldn't bear to see my reaction to him taking a big dump right in front of me. I'd never seen anything so erotic as him sitting there in mid-shit, his gorgeous bottom hovering over his turds and his smell thickening the air around us. Without the water of the toilet to contain it, the smell was stronger and nastier than I'd ever known, and ten times as exciting!
'Oh fucking hell yes!' I said. 'Have you got more? Go on, do another one...'
Even as I spoke his bumhole flared out again and he did a solid, straight log. It grew to four or five inches, swaying slightly as it hung down from him, and then fell onto his pile. Above it I noticed that his hole was just a little dirty as it pinched up again. He twisted his head round to look at me, his eyes wide and his face quite pale. He looked freaked out, even though there was the hint of a smile spreading across his lips.
'You really do like it, don't you!' he said quietly. 'It feels nice for me too. I really needed this!'
'Mm, yes! You've done so much. Have you finished?'
'No.' He shook his head. 'I always do it in two or three loads. Still feel like I need to ... uh ... oh I think it's coming...'
He turned away, and his hole flared and let out a little rasping fart and then squeezed up again.
'Heh, that's the first time I've ever heard you fart!'
Somehow it seemed to take some of the tension out of the situation. He giggled shyly, pushed a couple of times and started to go. His shit was thinner now but still solid and smooth, and it still made that fabulously dirty little noise as it slid out of his flaring hole. One long curl after another extended down from him and broke off. The smell rolled out from him and filled the room, drawing little whimpers from me as I sniffed at it.
'Oh!' he grunted as he pinched off a last slim little brown worm. 'Oh ... I've finished now.'
He looked around again and met my eyes, and all of a sudden his face cracked into a big smile as he reached out for my hand.
'That was awesome!' I said as I took it. 'Now ... would you like me to wipe your bottom for you? How do you usually do it?'
'I sit. I just move forward a bit and lean to the side ... like you do.'
'How did you know that?!'
'I don't. Not really. But you definitely wiped sitting earlier, didn't you, 'cos I could see your feet under the cubicle door.'
'Ha ha, yes, I do wipe sitting. Anyway, pass me the paper...'
I realised my hands were shaking as much as his when I reached in underneath him with the first pad of paper, and then he gave a little squeak as I drew it across his hole.
'Ooh! Oh that feels nice! Do it again!'
He wasn't very dirty after his solid shit and the paper was only coming away with light little smears on it, but I kept on doing it. Wiping his bum for him like this felt fantastically intimate, and I could tell from his little whimpers and sighs that he was enjoying it too. Finally I reached in with one last pad of paper and gave his freshly clean hole a last, quick little rub.
'That's it,' I whispered. 'All done.'
He stood up slowly and turned around with his hard-on thrusting out towards me like a gun, and then lowered himself down onto the seat. He looked down at the heap of thin curls covering his logs, and then back to me.
'Was that ... did you like it?' he asked softly.
'Mmm! Yes! Phew, Jack, your shit's beautiful! Ooh ... oh I really need to cum.'
I knelt up a little and shuffled forwards towards him, and as I did so he closed his fingers around his shaft. We both began to wank, slowly at first, but then harder and harder. His breathing grew heavier and his face contorted, and then suddenly he cried out and fired his sticky white cum out across the room, and a second or two later I too came, and shot my load all over his beautiful big shit.
I woke up slowly the next morning, with my head pounding a bit and my mouth dry. Jack was curled up next to me, eyes closed and what looked like the edges of a smile playing across his sleeping face, and I tried not to disturb him as I reached out and took an aspirin and then a long drink from the glass of water on the bedside table. I settled back down onto the pillow and tried to get back to sleep, thinking as I did about what had happened the previous day.
After we'd both cum we'd cleaned up. He'd tipped his shit into the toilet and then tied the stained bag up in another couple to take out to the rubbish bin, and whilst he'd done that I'd wiped up the splashes of our cum and the smear of shit he'd left on the floor. When he'd joined me back in the bathroom he'd looked awkward and self-conscious, and we'd gone into his bedroom next door and had a cuddle. He was a bit freaked out by what we'd just done, he admitted, and I realised that deep down he was worried that something had changed and that now I'd seen him doing something so nasty I wouldn't fancy him in the same way as I had done. But I did, and I told him so, and not long afterwards we'd ended up having a shower together and getting horny, and fucking in his bed like we'd done so many times before. After that everything felt normal again between us. Much later we'd gone out and got something to eat and a few drinks, and then back to his for more beer. We'd had a lot, I thought ruefully, and as we'd drank and talked his confidence had come back again and we'd started making plans for the next day. I realised I was starting to get hard as I thought about them...
A couple of hours later I started to need a dump. I'd been expecting it ever since I got up, since I normally need to go quite early when I've been drinking. Sometimes that gives me an urgent, loose dump as well, but not that morning. Instead it was not long after we'd finished breakfast and were still drinking our coffee that I felt the first little pressure in my chute, and my dick tingled as it filled slowly with what felt like a big, firm load.
'Jack...'
He looked up sharply from where he was checking something on his phone, meeting my eyes with one eyebrow raised. He often made that expression, usually when he was teasing me or the smutty side of his sense of humour had spotted some double entendre in something innocent . He looked all knowing, and with it ridiculously sexy. He also made it when he realised I was up to something, like now, and a little smile spread across his lips.
'Do you...?'
'Yeah.'
'Yes, I think I might need to as well. All that beer we had last night, and that big dinner in the pub...'
He got up and came over, a semi starting to bulge out the front of his trousers, sat down on the sofa and kissed me hard, massaging my cock through my pants. It felt madly intense, snogging like this when we both needed the toilet, and then he climbed on top of me and thrust his tongue into my mouth in animal passion.
'Oh ... oh I'm gonna fart!'
I pulled back a little and let out a loud blast. My smell wasn't as strong as his, but it was dense and slightly sharp and quite nasty, and he sniffed it and grunted in his throat and kissed me even harder. The fart gave me a moment's relief, but then the pressure in my arse grew stronger. I really needed a shit now, and the pressure on my prostate and his hand on my cock, and his lips and tongue on mine drove me wild. I straightened up sharply, pushing him back off me.
'I gotta take a dump. Come on!'
We tore one another's clothes off there and then. My head was spinning again and my heart was racing, and when another fart escaped me as we scrambled upstairs I heard him sniff and whimper uncontrollably. In the bathroom the bag was already on the floor in front of the toilet – he must have put it there earlier, when he went for a piss – and he took my hand and held it tight as I lowered myself onto the seat, and then knelt down behind me. Suddenly an intense feeling of self-consciousness hit me. Nobody had ever watched me shit, and I'd always thought no-one ever would. Now I was sitting backwards on a toilet with my bare bottom hanging off the back and my boyfriend whimpering and wanking behind me, and a big log pushing hard at my back door. I gave in and let it go.
'Ooh! Lew! Oh my God!'
I'd said that I'd do it slowly for him, just like he had for me, but I couldn't control it. My turd was softer than his had been; thick and lumpy, and I could hear it crackling as my bowel forced it out. Two hefty lumps thudded onto the floor and two more dropped on top of them, and my own smell rose up around me. My arsehole felt sticky as it squeezed shut. I twisted round and looked down at my shit, all slimy and curled and much darker brown than his, and then at him. He was staring at it with his cock in his hand, pre-cum dripping from his purple end, and as I watched he took a deep sniff and stared up at me with wide eyes, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but at that moment I felt another one sliding down the chute, and I did a wet fart as it started to come out. Now my shit was looser and gassier, like a cow-pat, and my smell grew stronger as the lumps dropped onto my pile. As the last couple slipped out of me I realised I'd finished.
'That's it ... I'm done.'
'God ... oh wow that's so fucking hot!'
He only swore when he was really angry or incredibly turned on, and I could tell from his hoarse breathing that he was as excited as I'd ever seen him. I twisted round to look at him and he stared up at me with his eyes wide.'
'Fuck ... that was awesome!' he breathed, winced a little and looked down for a moment. 'Uh ... Lew, I need to go too.'
He reached out and pulled the bag towards him a little way, and seeing what he was about to do I quickly got up, turned around and sat back down on the toilet. Right in front of me he too turned around, and knelt over the bag with his beautiful arse thrust well back. He was still breathing hard, but then it stopped a moment, and once again he gave that gorgeous masculine grunt of his.
I was sitting well forward, leaning down to get as close as I could so that my cock pressed into my stomach with its end oozing hot sticky fluid. It throbbed I watched his hole open and a thick brown tube begin to emerge. It was smoother and a shade darker this time, and it came out more quickly, dropping big lumps that grew into a curled brown heap. I moaned as the smell of it hit me. It was like it sometimes was when he had a hangover; strong and ripe and so fucking dirty. His sticky brown bumhole closed up again, but then quickly flared out in a couple of gassy farts, and crackled loudly as he curled out a succession of long, slightly mushy curls. My dick throbbed and rubbed against my tummy and thigh, and all of a sudden I felt myself starting to cum. My head spun and my vision went blurry, so that I could barely see my beautiful boyfriend finishing his huge dump in front of me. Then the dam burst and I jerked backwards and screamed out loud as I shot all over his back and bottom. Spunk dribbled down his legs as he spun round and knelt over what we'd done, staring down wide-eyed at what we'd done. His pile was bigger and firmer than mine, and lighter brown. Our different smells mingled together and hung round us like thick fog. His hand went to his dick. He tugged at it a couple of times, gasping frantically, and then he too howled out loud as he came all over our shit.
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