Beginnings, Foreplay and Fantasy

"Sorry," I said reflexively.

"Just means I'm doing something right, and you like what I'm doing," she said. "No need to apologize."

We walked out of the bath and back upstairs. Carrie took time to wash the breakfast dishes, which I dried for her. We sat on the couch and she bounced an opinion off me and mentioned a couple of things we might do with the rest of the day.

"The more I entertain your fetish, the more I find myself realizing it isn't all that weird. There are different extremes to a scat/toilet slavery fetish, and you are firmly in a niche well away from those. Admittedly, you are open to letting a woman have a degree of control, but you lay out your opinions right at the start. You find the act of a woman relieving herself erotic, and you get turned on. It still is a facet of being attracted to the opposite sex. It just happens in a different way. And conventional sexual things still turn you on. You enjoying yourself is helping me enjoy myself."

"I appreciate your open-minded feelings," I said. "Most of the time, it would have gone differently."

"The big difference though, is that there were boundaries, and I understood them, along with your expectations and your wants, right from the start. That makes things easier. Now, I'm just helping you out. You're not reallydemandinganything," Carrie pointed out.

"Anyway, I thought we could have lunch in a while, then take a walk to the movie place a few blocks down, and watch a movie after we eat dinner. After that, well, we could just let things go where they may," she said.

"I would be open to all of the above," I replied.

So we killed a little more time and decided to put some items on the grill; brats, burgers, and potatoes, with fruit salad on the side. We handled cleanup after getting our fill, and then we let things settle for about an hour, before walking down to make a video rental; we chose 'Broken City', with Mark Wahlberg and Russell Crowe.

We made the journey back to Carrie's place. An hour after our return, Carrie announced, "Well, things are percolating. And I have to pee like a racehorse," she added. So we made our way to the privacy of the basement. We walked into the bathroom together. Carrie pulled off her t-shirt and slid her bra off. Her shorts and panties stayed on.

She moved close and wrapped her arms around my back. "I've gotten really used to this, Todd. Not just hugging you and kissing you; I've gotten to a certain comfort level letting you be a part of my bathroom activities."

I reciprocated the gentle hug she was using. "I don't feel nearly as weird about things now as I did before I confided in you," I answered. I felt her take a deep breath. "Relax, Todd..." she said quietly.

She exhaled and I felt her body tense. I heard a duck quack start out of her ass. Carrie leaned over, still tensed. The duck quack turned into a loud, crackling blast. Sulfur tinged the air. With another deep breath, and supporting me leaning into her, Carrie turned loose another blast that repeated like the second portion of her first effort. A heavy cloud of odor hung behind her now.

She unfastened her shorts and placed them on the sink with her other articles. She slid her panties off and took me by the hand, stepping into the shower and helping me follow.

"Go ahead and kneel for me, Todd," she suggested quietly. I did. She took my head in her hands, slowly pushing it around and moving her fingers through my short hair. I let her do as she pleased.

Shortly she spread her legs and gently pulled my head forward between them. I moved carefully, again offering to let her take charge. I felt her squat slightly, her pussy near the crown of my head as I faced her.

She let her hands cover my ears gently. Very shortly I felt liquid drumming against my head. It built to a strong, fast rush that soaked the entire top of my head and ran over onto my face. Droplets of her pee slid down my cheeks. She adjusted herself to target the back of my head, wetting it good before her stream tapered off and stopped.

My hardened cock throbbed between my legs. Though she had finished, I replayed the feel of her pee drenching my hair. I re-imagined the impressive noise of her strong gas. Carrie turned on the water and wet and soaped her hands. Gently but thoroughly, she scrubbed my face and rinsed it. She repeated the process with my hair and the shampoo. Even letting her wash my hair and scrub my scalp felt good.

"Now I get to poop on you," Carrie declared.

I stretched onto my back. "Gee, no preamble whatsoever," I deadpanned. Carrie knelt, her back to me and her knees to each side of me, just above my hips. Her ass was about four inches off my belly.

She's gonna shit right on me,I thought. My member twitched. In another minute, she had relaxed enough to feel it was time to push. I watched the crack of her ass separate, and her anus stretched open, taking mere seconds to fill with a dark mass that would become a discharged load of shit.

Carrie took a breath, her belly muscles tensed. I wanted to tell her not to work so hard, but almost immediately the turd protruded from her buttocks. Carrie's stomach muscles stayed hard, and in a continuous movement, the turd grew slowly out of her. It was dark, soft, and very large. At about the four-inch mark, it touched my belly and continued to grow. It slid slowly on my skin, still growing. I was so transfixed by its size that I didn't register any odor at that point. When I guessed the turd was probably near ten inches healthy, it was free of Carrie's rump.

She took a slow breath, then allowed a contented sigh. She wasn't panting and didn't seem overworked. Heat from the fresh dump seeped into my skin. I was hard and throbbing in response to Carrie's delivery, but I did not feel the need to come.

My eyes focused on her deposit, and a stout, ripe odor plowed into my nostrils. Strangely, I did not frown or cover my nose or make any sudden movements as a result of physical or sensory discomfort. Carrie stood slowly and announced she was going to wipe. She stepped out of the shower and did so. She used a sanitizing wipe on her hands.

She looked back into the shower and her eyes inevitably found her gift. Her eyes widened and a hand went near her mouth. "I swear, I wasn't trying to unload that on you," she said to me apologetically.

"It's okay," I said, "don't feel bad about it. Remember I asked you to treat me. You must feel better." She put her hands on her hips and thought for several seconds. She grinned. "I do feel...better," she decided. "Now, let's get that out of here."

She draped a sanitizing wipe across a portion of her load and carefully lifted it off of me. "Still a little warm," she noted. "That's nice," I replied. She moved carefully and her brown triumph was in the toilet. The lid went down and she flushed. She washed her hands again and stepped back into the shower with two body scrubbers. We scrubbed up, sanitized the shower, and returned to the living room, where we checked out the TV as it was getting later into the evening. We were unimpressed. We went into Carrie's bedroom.

"After all we've been doing, we may as well share," she pointed out.

"Noted," I said, offering no resistance. She stripped to just her panties, even ditching her headlight cover. Both were black, standing out against her lighter, tanned skin and accenting her dark hair.

"Nice panties," I observed, to which she responded, "They're very comfortable; one of my favorite sets of lingerie." She slid into the bed, which she'd drawn down earlier. I followed. Carrie's back was to me, and I carefully faced her and made to spoon. Surprisingly, she accommodated and backed her rump gently into my pelvis.

My dick stirred. I reached down and ran my hands over the fabric of her panties; it felt like a blend of spandex and rayon; very nice. I wanted to peel them off and go to work on her ass, but decided that would be a nice treat for both of us in the morning. I left a hand at her waist and the other gently cupping a bare breast as I fell asleep after we'd killed the lights.

Sunday repeated a blue-sky morning. We were up and about by eight a.m., agreeing on pancakes, eggs, fruit and OJ for breakfast. We left the windows covered at all the I-see-you points. Carrie opted for just her panties and a t-shirt, and I just my boxers and said t-shirt.

We cleaned up after eating and settled ourselves on the couch after freshening up with the basic morning hygiene. Carrie was willing to talk.

"Actually, I'm not going to lie. It was nice taking a dump on you. I wanted to make it worth it for you, even if I wasn't trying to drop a monster out of my ass. It felt good to get it out of me. Knowing it was going to end up on you appealed to me some."

"I shouldn't necessarily say I'm glad you enjoyed it; maybe a better phrase is that I've come to appreciate that you've chosen to help me explore what is a very out-there fetish, and in the opinion of some professionals, actually a disorder."

Carrie declared, "It really wasn't that hard to come to terms with. Yes, it's different, and a great majority of people are likely to freak out being approached with a request like the one you brought to me. Then there are the judgments that get made, and after the judgment is made, relations between people can be damaged, or at least altered. The party who spoke their mind often feels guilty, and the guilt makes things awkward. I, for one, will always be okay with you as you are."

It sounded lame coming out, but I said, "Thank you for understanding."

She added, "Now obviously, that kind of thing is best sheltered from the everyday reality. It is inappropriate for you to petition an entire group of women that you encounter in a span of time, to join them as a bathroom partner. There needs to be a defined line that is not crossed. For you, the line is there, and you recognize it and use it appropriately. Obviously, there are instances where you might feel compelled to divulge your desires to particular women; the ones you may come to know versus those you encounter daily, and have passing thoughts of, "I wonder what it'd be like to let her piss on me?"; or "Wow, I'd let her shit on me for sure."

But it is okay, in certain instances, to explore things, and when you do, it remains between consenting adults, and that's it. But your brain works like that: analyzes several angles, so you know that as well."

This woman was recognizing and applyingmylogic to her own thoughts and within her own mind--kinda weird. But we sat there on her couch, and wrapped an arm around each other, and I let the warmth and softness of her skin pull me into a daze.

Her fingers played across the back of my neck. We enjoyed each other for several minutes, until she sprawled out on her belly, forcing me to shift positions. I took the opportunity to carefully straddle her legs well below her lingerie-covered buttocks. I slid the rear of the waistband down. I worked my hands gently and briefly across her smooth cheeks. There was not a lot of excess fleshiness, but they were still soft and smooth. Carrie lifted herself and let me finish removing her panties.

"We don't have to go any further unless you're okay with me giving your backside a little specialized attention," I said to her.

"Hey, if you like being around when I'm doing the deed on the toilet, it figures you might like my personal areas a little more than usual. So go ahead, Todd," she allowed.

I started by just playing my hands and fingers across both sides of her rump. Then I used my fingertips in a gentle, probing massage. After several minutes of that, I leaned over and set about thoroughly kissing her ass. I stayed away from the middle divider, figuring she might be a little uncomfortable with my going there. After performing this technique for a few minutes, I switched tactics again and carefully pushed around what little slack there was in her ass cheeks.

Carrie seemed completely relaxed, at ease and breathing deeply enough to make me wonder if she was asleep. My massage stopped. She wasn't asleep.

"Well, I've never had an ass massage before, but I like it; you can do it again anytime," she decided.

"I happen to like your massage technique, too," I responded. "If you had shot down my desire to be a toilet partner and offered a massage, I would have accepted and admitted that was a good substitute for my original request."

"It's been my pleasure to provide. I'd be happy to oblige any time you asked, a long as I d a little notice," she offered. I told her I was likely to keep that in mind and take her up on it.

Realizing we couldn't be lazy all day, we put clothes on and retreated to the back deck to enjoy some sun and fresh air. Each of us spent a little time reading, and Carrie reached over and took my hand, which she guided to her right thigh. I let my fingers rest there for quite some time, with some awareness that anything overtly sexual might be noticed by someone, even with the privacy offered.

We spent nearly two hours outside, then started a movie from Carrie's personal collection. Halfway through, we fixed lunches and took them into the living room to finish the feature. After letting things settle, we walked down to return our earlier rental.

Coming out, Carrie mentioned that there was a bowling alley not too much further away; we went in and played for an hour, getting in two games. She won both, the first by a wide margin and the second being a tight enough race that I was happy with my performance.

We walked home. I helped Carrie with some housekeeping, then we took turns checking e-mail. I noted a couple of upcoming projects which I responded to by saying they would be my priority, to be done hopefully by Wednesday of the coming week.

With important stuff out of the way, Carrie was content to veg out and exchange small doses of affection. We kissed a little, but there was a lot of touching that evolved into petting and some outright groping, which neither of us objected to.

We decided on take-and-bake pizza for dinner; we added fresh fruit and a little ice cream for dessert. When we finished and returned to the living room, Carrie asked me if her shows of affection had made me hard.

"Well, yeah. There was a time when I wondered if average sexual activity could do the trick, because my bathroom fetish had become such a prominent means of arousal. With you, the average stuff was really good, too. It might have a little to do with the fact t hat you've indulged my fetish, and having done that, when the more routine sexual stuff happens, it's easier to get hard," I said to her.

"Nothing wrong with letting outside-the-box pursuits fuel your sex drive. Had you forced things on me, I might not have been so receptive. But for the most part, I'm happy to help, especially since I know you some, like I said earlier."

We found 'Family Feud' on TV. We watched back-to-back episodes, at the end of which, Carrie said, "Well, I need to drop a load, and my bladder is full. So come along."

Upon reaching the basement bath, she stripped her top half bare. I stepped close to her and wrapped my arms around her just above her ass. She slid one arm across my back and the other slid up, caressed the back of my neck, and cradled the back of my head, prompting me to let it rest on her shoulder.

Very shortly, Carrie took a deep breath. She exhaled and tensed. She unleashed a long, crackling raspberry. Besides long, it was loud; very un-ladylike. I thought it was probably one of the loudest releases of gas I'd ever heard.

Getting it out, Carrie relaxed. There was a heavy cloud of rotten-egg odor behind her, and it found my nostrils in short order. Carrie breathed in, stiffened, leaned into me, bent her legs, and released more gas. This started with a short, loud hiss that became a deep, rumbling note, also short. Carrie sighed and slumped toward me.

For a couple of minutes, she stood there, so I let her hold me. She nibbled my right ear and kissed my cheek. Then she stepped back. She slid her jeans off, and her panties followed. She motioned to me to precede her into the shower, and instructed me to lie on my back. I did so.

Carrie stepped in and carefully place a foot to each side of me, and then knelt, straddling my torso. I didn't have to wait long for things to get started. Carrie's vagina was three or four inches off my belly, and momentarily I felt her peeing on me. The flow increased, and her powerful stream splashed my belly. Carrie drained herself, proceeding to completely relax.

She rested her hands on my shoulders. She took a couple of deep breaths, and slowly flexed her stomach muscles. A smell tipped me off that her load was working its way out. With things started, Carrie relaxed and worked on another slow push.

Watching between her legs, I could just see a turd drooping down. Then I felt it touch my torso and I also felt the heat of it. Carrie didn't stop pushing, and the load grew, pushing against my skin. It kept sliding, and eventually tipped to lie horizontally on a portion of my belly, with the broad end resting near my bladder.

Carrie let go a deep sigh, and the air smelled of sulfur. She stood and stepped out of the shower. She wiped, opened the toilet, and dropped the paper in. Carrie's turd was light colored, probably eight inches long; not like yesterday's ten-inch estimate. This one had a healthy diameter all the way to its ending taper. The wide end was somewhat firm, the remainder soft, and it felt kind of heavy sitting there.

Packing a couple more sanitary wipes, Carrie proceeded to remove her deposit. It went into the toilet; she flushed, and I heard her washing her hands. I stepped out, did the same, after letting most of Carrie's piss run off me. I rinsed the bottom of the shower.

Both of us stepped in, hit the water, washed our hair, and soaped and rinsed completely. We stepped out, dried and dressed, and returned to the living room. Carrie kissed me deeply and thoroughly; I did my best to reciprocate. There was hand-holding, and I gently fondled her breasts. It was clear she didn't mind.

We stepped out the back door to the deck. Carrie sat in a patio chair and carefully parked me in her lap. Her hands gently rubbed my shoulders, then up and down my back, repeating the pattern for a few minutes. Then she worked her hands and fingers into my shoulders for several minutes. She rubbed and probed thoroughly up and down my back, loosening the muscles.

She had very good hands, working hard but not showing any strain for it. I slumped and let her work.

"Dammit, I'm coming here twice a month just for that. That is amazing," I declared. Carrie grinned.

"I work cheap," she told me. We returned to the living area. I made sure I had all my belongings. I didn't leave yet, though. We occupied the couch as usual, and very carefully, Carrie lowered herself onto my lap. She let her weight settle slowly. I leaned in and put my arms around her. "I like," I said quietly. Carrie held me in return.

"I will always like being affectionate, with an occasional kinky side trip," she said. I sat there, feeling her ass on my lap, and her body heat and her closeness.

"Thank you, Carrie," I said. "You truly are a classy woman."

"You're welcome any time. We'll have to do it again," she answered.

I soaked up a little more of her, and five minutes later I was out the door with my stuff. The future definitely held further encounters between the two of us.