The Three Porcelaineers, Plus One Pt. 01

My name is Ethan. The following events are entirely fictional.

*****

Tuesday

I was leaving work on this Tuesday when my ringing cell phone stopped me outside the PC service shop where I worked, in a suburb of Portland, Oregon. I looked at the caller ID readout. Tasha.

Something like nine months ago, I had spent three or four days with one of the employees of a coffee shop I frequented. Since that first encounter, we'd had one other, some three months after that one. It had been another three months since I'd last heard from her. We had discovered a mutual enjoyment of bathroom intimacy; I was regularly present when she was peeing, giving golden showers, or taking a shit. She was a big girl, and she could dump logs all the time. She had been a mistress, and still was part time, along with her day job. Though she had that background, she was crazy about me, gentle as we pursued things and affectionate outside of the kinky stuff.

Tasha was a heavyset blonde woman who I guessed was in her early-to-mid thirties. Green eyes. Heavy, with a wide torso, and an equally wide butt. Aside from being heavy, she was about five foot nine. She wore her hair tomboy short, combed to one side along the top of her head and straight down at the back, just meeting the top of her neck. She favored jeans and polo shirts. When not at work, she was comfortable nude or half-nude if we were together.

I put the phone to my ear now, and said hello.

"Ethan, are you leaving work?" I heard Tasha ask.

"Yeah, just now standing outside the front door," I confirmed.

"Stay there. I'll pick you up," she said. "I want you, and I need it," she finished.

"So you do want something," I cracked.

"Keep being a smartass," she countered. "I'll let my mistress side show again."

She had mock-dominated me in the form of a short spanking session during our first encounter.

We ended the call and she showed fifteen minutes later, driving a late-model GMC Acadia SUV. It was white, and I thought it suited her well. Tasha was smiling after I boarded and we pulled away from the curb. We continued past the coffee shop where she had been working. There was an apartment above it, which she had owned.

Before I could pose a question, she said, "I bought a house 3 months ago, at the same time I was taking night classes to get a certification in massage therapy. I still help out if the coffee shop needs it, and I still mistress part time. I have the massage room right in my house. I work by appointment, usually pretty steady three to four days a week," she finished. "No weekends. Those are for me. And us."

"Wow. Changes," I said.

"Not that I was bored. Not for the money either. I wanted something new and different and that I considered interesting and worthwhile. Massage was it, and I already have a dozen regular clients."

"Good for you. If you like it, that's what matters," I opined.

"I do...but aways remember I like you more. And I like what I do when we're together, more," Tasha said, with a smile and a wink. A few minutes later, she pulled into a driveway on a residential side street. She put the vehicle in park and clicked off the seatbelt. I followed suit, and we got out, went to the door, unlocked it, and entered.

We came into the living room. High ceilings throughout the house. There was a long wall to the left with one arched opening near us. Kitchen. Looking up, I now noticed a loft-style second story, half as deep as the living room and stretching over above the kitchen. The stairs for access were tucked into the front corner of the kitchen, near the wall shared with the living room.

Tasha informed me there were two bedrooms up there, with a small shared bath you could enter from either one. There was a short wall several feet from the shared wall, and another short flight of stairs leading down. Tasha said there was another bath down there, and her massage room, with a couple of closets, utility area, and a sitting room in the remaining space. The place was open, definitely modern and contemporary.

Tasha parked herself on a large microfiber couch, motioned to me, and sat me in her lap. She tucked her thighs around me and leaned into me, wrapping her arms around me. She kissed my neck, and worked her way to my lips, where she gently forced my lips open and inserted her tongue.

She broke the kiss, thern moved me out of her way and went to the kitchen to make dinner, which was French toast and choice of sides. We ate and cleared dishes.

Tasha instructed me to sit in the living room and occupy my time while she did dishes, because she wanted time to think without me in the immediate area. Basically, she was telling me to go away, and kicking me out, verbally.

She returned in another half hour. I always had a book I was reading, wherever I went, which is how I spent the time waiting for Tasha. She entered the room and sat next to me.

"I know you want something," I said, giving her a sidelong glance.

"Why do I always have to want something, when we happen to be together?" she chided.

"I can feel it. You're sending out this vibe," I continued.

The conversation in the SUV replayed in my head. "...but aways remember I like you more. And I like what I do when we're together, more."

Finally, she sighed. "Yes, I want to poop with you tonight and tomorrow. I want to ask you to take Thursday and Friday off of work. I want to take a trip to a friend's house and have us all spend a few days together," Tasha elaborated.

"And why does this trip require a few days?" I asked.

"Because you are going to meet three other women. Two of them are old hands with fetish fulfillment, and the other is a partner of the owner of the house, who is getting the urge to try her hand."

"You just volunteered me to let three random women engage in golden shower play and shitting on me," I said.

"Only one of the ladies might get carried away. If she does, I'll lay down the law before you and she work together. The home owner's partner leans toward shyness. The homeowner honed my way of thinking when it comes to your fetishes. She's forty-five, and her standard operating procedure will blow your mind. And all three of them are very pretty," Tasha stated.

I fell silent, thinking. "It takes time to build the kind of relations necessary to be comfortable doing this kind of thing with new people," I said.

"If you're skittish, two of them will put you at ease. The third is probably going to be aggressive, admit a mistake, and bend over backwards to help you be comfortable," Tasha insisted.

I sighed. "Nothing sick and twisted," I declared. "And what kind of trump card are you holding?"

"I told the ladies you and I would give a demonstration, to show the trust in our relationship. And, one of the ladies requested another demo, just you and I and her."

"Shit. I should have figured."

"We won't do anything we haven't done before. We'll just have an audience a couple times. No matter what, I won't let anybody force us to do something. I know you have limits. I like you and respect you enough not to do that to you. I figured you could indulge your bathroom intimacy with three more lovely women you might not otherwise encounter in your life," Tasha said.

She continued, "I'll make you a deal. If you survive the entire experience, and admit you didn't like it when it's just you and me, I'll give you massages once a week for a month. And, I'll let the lady who freaked you out shit in my mouth, while you watch."

"Jesus, you must be overly confident," I conceded.

Tasha scooted me between her thighs. "Would I throw you into something without being relatively sure it was going to be enjoyable for you? The time we've been together, and the things we've done, as crazy as we are about each other?"

"I suppose not," I admitted.

"You suppose correctly," she said quietly.

"It's on, then," I said.

"Ethan, you are a stud. I got your back."

Tasha reached over for the TV remote, and we killed an hour. I remained tucked in her lap, her arms around me and my head resting on her shoulder. I was in a relaxed stupor just because being with her was so good for me.

She began to fidget and eventually squirmed behind me. "It's time, kiddo," she said. She was ready to take me along for another few minutes of pooping and/or peeing prowess. We went down the stairs, me in front and Tasha behind. The bathroom entry was dead ahead at the bottom of the stairs. The main space had a portable divider in it, the rear half being storage and the front half her massage area. We entered the bath, and Tasha closed the door behind us.

"No toilet," she said. "Shower." So she was going to empty herself on me. She'd done it before, on my lap and my torso. She was always seeking to change things up, and keep me interested. Right now, she peeled her shirt and bra off, tossing them on the vanity next to the door.

She turned me to face her, pulling me into a hug. I slid my arms around her broad waist. Tasha reached down and shoved my ass forward gently, and I felt my groin press into her pelvis. She spread her legs and set her feet. She took a breath, and seconds later, gas started escaping her. It started quiet, and she tensed, and then it was a loud, rippling crackle that ended with a loud, short rumble. The entire thing had taken several seconds, and I watched Tasha's face wrinkle as she forced her body to gain some relief.

There was now an intense ripe smell behind her, hanging in the air. I felt Tasha slumped over, some inner discomfort gone.

I felt her move and now she was looking at me. She sighed as I returned her gaze. "You good?" she asked, grinning.

"Yeah," I said. "Every time you pass gas it's loud," I said.

"I've perfected it," she admitted. "That, and the luck of natural noise when it comes out."

Now she tugged her jeans down and off, then her panties. She hugged me again, and spoke with a low, husky note in her voice. "In you go, on your knees, like a dog, with your bare back for my target, ok?"

I mentally pictured what she was suggesting as I stripped off my clothes. My penis began to throb in the early stage of hardness. I knelt, as instructed, in the bottom of the shower. Tasha stepped in, and carefully set her feet on either side of me, standing fully erect. "Bombs away," I joked.

"You know what? I hadn't thought about it like that, but that's exactly what you're getting," Tasha declared. She put her hands on her hips, I noted with my peripheral vision, and then I sensed her starting to push. I heard her exhale and relax, and I smelled what she was trying to deliver.

Relaxing and gathering herself, Tasha pushed again, exhaling as she did. There was less effort here, as there was less tension in her muscles. She very carefully shuffled up so her knees were just behind my shoulders. She relaxed and pushed a third time, a long moan accompanying it. And then a sigh...relief. A split second later, something slapped into my back with a thud. The odor of rotten eggs ruled the shower stall.

Tasha's load of shit had to be somewhat solid, just from the sound and feel of it landing on my back. Having just exited her anus, it was warm. My erection held and pulsed. I thought about Tasha's wonderful, large, wide ass looming above me. I reached down and massaged my hard member.

"No yanking the monkey," Tasha scolded.

"I'm not. I get so hard when you want to shit for me," I explained. I put my hand down and just let myself feel Tasha standing there, and enjoying the turd she'd left on my back. We stayed that way for another couple of minutes.

Tasha leaned over and lifted her dump off me. She carefully stepped out, placed it in the toilet, and then wiped clean, and washed her hands thoroughly.

I carefully exited the shower to look into the toilet before Tasha flushed. Her load had to be a foot long, and the first 3 or four inches was as big around as my fist. "I never get tired of gawking at your monsters," I said, as she washed her hands.

Good," she said, wrapping an arm around me. "You better not. I intend to keep going at it until I'm either not into this anymore, or I get ugly," she shared.

We stepped back in and used the shower. Tasha washed my back erotically, rinsing after soaping, then kissing the area where she'd dropped her load. She massaged the spot up and down gently, then let her fingertips dance along the spot. My cock stood up again.

Tasha soaped and rinsed herself. I did the honors with her broad, somewhat soft ass, kissing each cheek thoroughly after I finished. She turned to me after she shut the water off.

"I'll be back," she said. She dried quickly, then slid a robe on and disappeared for two minutes. She came back carrying a dining char, which she placed at one end of the shower. The two of us crowded in the other end.

"Ethan, let me spank you. Just my bare hand, until your butt hurts enough for me to stop," she murmured in my ear.

I sighed. "So you do want to hurt me some more," I said. I leaned in and wrapped my arms completely around Tasha's middle. She looped her left arm around my waist, holding me tightly. Her free hand rubbed both of my butt cheeks, much less ample than hers. Her fingertips danced around on them. "Ready?" she asked.

"I guess," I replied.

"You let me know when there's a good sting when my hand hits. Then I'll just smack each cheek till you say stop."

I felt her hand move. Smack! Her hand connected, and my left cheek stung badly. I told Tasha so. Then I leaned on her and held on. She smacked my left cheek again and let the sting register.

Now comfortable with her target, she landed her hand quickly several times. The sound was loud in the shower. Moderate blows rained down, until the soreness was too much. "Ok, stop," I said, breathing hard. I knew my left butt half was lobster-red.

"All right, breathe. Big, deep breaths," Tasha coached. I did. Tasha's hands became gentle instruments. She caressed my sore ass, groping gently until a portion of the pain subsided.

"Other cheek. I stop when I feel like it," Tasha informed me.

"Hey, don't hurt me," I said.

"This time I will," Tasha said. "So lean on me, and feel it."

She locked me in again, and went to work. Wicked cracks sounded around the shower. She connected half a dozen times, then sped up, until her hand had to be just a blur of motion. There was no counting; she went on until I was heaving and panting like a racehorse.

Oddly, crying out didn't enter my mind. But shit, my ass was sore. I wasn't going to sit down for two days. Tasha lifted her hand, and it smacked dead-center into my butt. I jerked. The strike was repeated, and I jerked again, then grabbed my member and pissed in the shower.

Tasha loosened her hold, took me by the waist, and sat me atop her thighs on the chair. She blew out a loud sigh, then cuddled me close. I squirmed, my butt not tolerating the sitting. "Ok, all right, we're all done, kiddo," she said. Her sultry tone penetrated my mood.

"Dammit, my ass hurts," I said. "Anybody tries to spank me during this outing, it'll be HELL NO," I declared. I knew Tasha wasn't being mean, just letting her desires out. Now she laughed at my remark.

We stepped out of the shower. Tasha placed the robe around me, and she remained naked. I told her it might not be wise, and she replied that she had covered all the windows.

I sprawled on my belly on Tasha's couch. She took her cue, climbing behind me and straddling me gently. The mere thought of her bare nether-regions touching me anywhere got my dick trying to work again. She lifted the robe out of her way.

Tasha let her hands gently work the nerve bundle at the base of my spine, just above my butt. Then they gently fondled and rubbed both my rear cheeks for several minutes. She was trying to make me feel better, and speed the recovery of my posterior.

Then I felt something gentle, and warm, and wet meet my ass. I heard slow, deliberate sucking sounds. Holy shit, she's kissing my ass, I thought. Awesome. Fact was it felt really good. I made a conscious effort not to come. The mental picture of her pretty face and nice lips nuzzling my ass was very nice. I was glad she saw fit to treat me to it.

Tasha eventually slid off me, and I let her stretch out and shove herself against me, so we were side by side on the sofa. "The spanking thing was probably a little overboard," she admitted. "I think you were definitely uncomfortable."

"I let you have your moment. Like the time I let you take a dump on my face," I said. "But I think I'd ask for no more hardcore spanking, and let you keep shitting on my face," I pointed out.

"All right, you have my word, as someone who really likes you, and is addicted to what happens when we're together, no more aggressive spanking. Basically painless technique only," Tasha conceded.

We ambled into Tasha's bedroom after a few more minutes. She wouldn't let me leave. I'd have to roust her early so I could change and be off to work, where I'd have to apprise my two coworkers I'd be taking two personal days.

Very shortly after four on Wednesday, Tasha was calling. By way of answering, I said, "I guess I know where I'm expected to be."

Tasha's reply was equally snide. "That's right. I'm training you slowly. I guess you can be taught. I'm coming."

As it had yesterday, it took fifteen minutes for her to show. As I boarded the Acadia and strapped in, Tasha said, "I got a call from my lady friend who is hosting us for the weekend. She won't actually want to start things till Thursday evening. We have instructions to show up after five o'clock. You and I will give our demonstration after we know everyone is there. That means both of us can work on Thursday."

"Fair enough," I announced. It meant another day with my cock trying to run the show.