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Dr. Ellen Hull PhD sat in her office reviewing her schedule and enjoying the fluffy bulge between her legs. Wearing John’s bikini underwear energized her lubricious imagination and allowed her to spend without worrying about wetting through her outer clothes. That asexual bulge, pressing and chafing her stiff clitoris, along with molding her spongy panty material into her swollen labia made her wriggle with lust.
Ellen realized a spurt of pee appealed to her lover like a surge of cum. Additionally, since panty wetting was frowned upon socially, it added a measure of risk to their “naughty” behavior. On their first morning together, Ellen had captured his finger and forcibly rubbed it against her bottom letting him feel the soft bud of poop just peeking out of her anus. John, of course, knowing that he had dirtied her panties, along with the smell of her shit on his fingers, caused him to spend.
They now probed each other’s assholes at every opportunity, visualizing the mucky state of their lover’s bottoms. Ellen had always produced large, soft bowel movements but combining her shit with her lover’s load was much more satisfying. Filthy scenarios paraded through her fertile mind and her fingers were rewarded with metered spurts of viscous bliss; she was well on the way to bring John into her realm of scat.
She picked up the phone and called his lab. “John, breakfast at the cafeteria?”
“Sure, coffee and muffin sounds good. By the way, any of your lab folks in yet?”
“No, but Penny’s setting up an experiment this morning and Joe will be taking photomics. I think we can take the morning off. See you for muffins, hon.”
Leaving the lab, her gaze traveled to a large sign taped to the darkroom door, “In the Dark – No Admittance” and poked her head into the empty room. She smelled the lingering bouquet of sex and smiled. Ellen hoped her two doctoral students were the lovers and when she found dried cum in a Petri dish, she was sure of it. Only graduate students act that weird.
Breakfast conversation centered on ways and means of sharing quality time, meaning when their bowels demanded emptying. John brought up the idea of renting a small apartment dedicated to scat play, close enough to the lab and their houses to make it convenient for lunchtime revels and weekend orgies. They located a small second-floor apartment listed on the internet in a quiet neighborhood nearby. A newly renovated bathroom with a large fiberglass shower, toilet with sufficient space around it for two to play on comfortably and a leak-proof floor passed their usage test. Windows that looked out on house walls provided ventilation, light, and privacy. The other tenants worked away from the dwelling during the day and the landlord rarely had need to visit his property.
They suadiye escort rented it on the spot and began arranging the living space. “Good neighbors, that’s us,” she breathed, as they measured the bedroom and living room for adequate air conditioners.
“Yup, Mr. and Mrs. Clean,” John murmured as he rubbed two fingers against her asshole. He smiled when he felt Ellen push and her underwear slide and stick in her bum crack.
Celebrating their erotic freedom in this new play space, John unzipped his trousers and thrust his bikini-covered cock aggressively at Ellen. Coquettishly, holding her knees together while rocking her pelvis seductively, she slowly pulled her skirt up to her belly. She opened her legs revealing John’s borrowed underwear as she thrust her hips out, two fingers rubbing the material firmly against her pussy lips.
Standing about six feet apart they masturbated together spending in their reeking underpants. Moving closer, they bathed their fingers in each other’s creamy emissions. Ellen pushed to open her bottom for John’s index finger. She strained harder, shedding a few drops of pee on the living room rug to push a turd within reach of his touch. Ellen eagerly plumbed John’s hole, feeling around his prostate gland, enjoying its slippery tightness.
“Ellie, I’m cumming again,” John whispered, shooting his seed into her hand and through her fingers. The lovers wiped their hands on the inside of their underwear and drove back to the research center; twenty minutes later they were in their respective labs.
Dr. Hull’s two-thirty return to the lab fit right in to Joe and Penny’s estimation – her graduate students were planning some fuck time in the darkroom as well. When they left the research facility together that Tuesday, Joe and Penny noticed that their boss got in Dr. Sparr’s car, and applauded Ellen’s love adventure. “I hope he’s a good guy, I’d like to see her happy,” said Joe. “She deserves it,” agreed Penny, “I think Dr. Sparr will keep her that way.”
Later that night on the phone, John described the pleasurable feeling of working in his sticky bikinis, then asked “How about us making love during your period?”
“That would be perfect Johnnie, I get wicked horny when I’m bleeding. I play with myself till I’m sore.”
“I’ll fuck you three days straight!”
“Baby, three days out of the month you can live in my cunt. God, I can’t wait till my time comes around again, and all those sick days waiting to be used . . . Oooh yeah.”
Late Tuesday morning after eating breakfast at the research center, Dr. Sparr grabbed his laptop, a briefcase full of underwear and left the lab until “later, folks.” Dr. Hull simply called human resources and proclaimed a personal day. John let himself into the yakacık escort apartment, bolted and chained the door and walked in to the living room. Ellen peeked around the kitchen entry and threw him a kiss. “Get comfy,” she called, “lunch is on its way.”
“Guess I’m bringing the dessert then,” John replied. He shucked off his trousers, shirt, shoes and socks, then walked into the kitchen. Ellen placed the last few finger foods complete with toothpick handles under a covered plate and turned to embrace him. They relaxed in each other’s arms; there were no schedules to accommodate, only their own.
Ellen’s introduction to scat led them directly into the dirtier realms of lovemaking – enthralled them, in fact. John found himself swimming in deep water after their first wet night together; he was awestruck by Ellen’s obsession with shit.
“Shall we enjoy lunch or dessert first?” Ellen asked.
“Well, let’s go together, you want to?”
“Yeah, at least today, while we’re fine tuning our bodies,” she said, wriggling her bottom. They had been holding in their shit ever since breakfast so that their systems would eventually signal the need to release at eleven o’clock in the morning.
“El, honey, stand still a minute,” John ran his hand lightly over her bottom, then under her half slip and panties. He knelt down, pulled the fabric aside and stroked her pink, crinkly asshole with his finger.
“Kiss me there, lick me,” Ellen said softly, beginning to push.
John put one hand on her well-haired mound and massaged her engorged clit, the other on her hip and pressed his lips directly on the opening bud. A gluey mass slipped out against his lips then pushed his head back away from her ass cheeks. He sucked a soft bit into his mouth, retched and swallowed it quickly, determined not to vomit into her panty crotch and down her legs.
“Oh God!” John gagged, “Jesus, I almost puked, what a taste!”
“Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would make you sick, I love the way you smell down there.”
“Keep going, fill ’em, do it,” he stuttered, watching, feeling and molding the soft remainder of her movement as it squashed into her ballooning panties.
Ellen stooped to smear the encased shit over her thighs and dimpled ass. She pulled John’s pants down and away from his bottom, then thrust her face as far as she could into his bum crack. She opened her mouth and plunged her tongue into his hole. Saccharine salt-sharp greasy shit immediately slammed into her open mouth, jolted her head back and spun her around against the cabinet doors. She slumped down to the kitchen floor, legs outspread, white-faced, sick and smiling. “Fuck! John, I chewed it, I swallowed your shit! God, I love it.”
John gazed at her sitting on the şerifali escort floor, pale with perverse yearnings, his shit smeared around her mouth. Brown curls of poop oozed from her panty leg openings. She was taut as a drawn bow with lust. He studied her face, dangling lank hair, smeared lips and cheeks brown against her ashen skin; Ellen was becoming ill as he watched. She leaned on one arm to support her upper body while her other hand dabbled aimlessly in the contents of her brimming panties. She spit copious amounts of saliva down her chin and over her slip, trying to ease the sick feeling in her belly.
“Ellen,” John commanded, “let yourself relax, calm down.”
She looked up at him, slack mouth open, slobber swilling over her breasts and burped. A loud degrading blare, without dignity, rich with the odor of partially digested breakfast and bile. John’s stomach churned at the stench even as he sat down beside her and slid his hard wet cock out of his underpants. She cradled his slippery lingam in her fingers, resting her head on his shoulder while a hot pool of piss blossomed beneath them. After several minutes, their breathing slowed and they stumbled to their feet. Ellen looked down at the mess on the kitchen floor, felt the gooey shit sliding down her legs forming a lumpy pool around their feet. “I love this,” she said softly, “I love you.”
John gently slid her slip and panties down her legs. Standing nude with her lover brought a gradual sense of normalcy. Ellen threw a couple of bath towels over the dull brown pond and stopped worrying about their neighbor’s ceiling turning colors.
“Wow,” John said. “I almost fainted when I came.”
“But, I . . . we, did some things we never tried.”
“One thing we like, and that’s pooping on each other.”
“And wetting,” Ellen said tenderly. “Even throwing up.”
“I almost threw up in your panties,” John confessed.
“Oh, I would have pulled them right up tight before I went! You know, I almost threw up in my lap. It’s exciting to think about, but you looked really uncomfortable, I did my best not to. But it would be so. . . so stinky messy!”
“Why do you like making messes, baby?” John asked.
“Cause I never could. I had to pee my pants in secret and wash and dry everything in secret and not let anything smell, ever.”
“What started you wetting yourself anyway? It sounds like a huge amount of work and fear of getting caught for a few seconds of . . . urine warming your bottom.”
“Pooping just before taking a shower was my only way to clean up quickly. Peeing was an occasional extravagance but I lived for the times I could find that relief from studies and work. I never got caught though and had some wonderful afternoons. I’ll never forget them.”
“Well, you’ve come a long way, baby.” John smiled. “And you never got caught, eh?”
Whispering conspiratorially in the gentle shower stream, warm water eddying around their bodies, they spiraled down their emotions, emerging fresh, rejuvenated and anticipating the evening.
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