I can't remember exactly when it happened, but we graduated at some point. We went from the shy limits of new lovers to naughty children alone in an attic. Not every time, by any means, but when we had time on our hands, do you remember how we used to go from sweet, gentle vanilla loving to that urgent, adrenaline buzz fest as we pushed each other toward the land of taboos, soaring high as kites on the filthy wonder of it all?
I was very much in love with you, and nothing about you ever put me off, once we got to that deep place. Even if I walked into the room unexpectedly after you'd just passed wind, I wasn't repelled. I mean, I didn't exactly like it, but I did like that we remained polite and didn't talk about it, both accepting that this had happened and that it was OK. Actually, as I recall it now, I really liked how you'd come to me for a reassuring hug, that strange little smile of embarrassment on your face and your eyes kind of wide. We'd just stand there in each others' arms, and let things be, the smell would leave us and we were so content together! Who would have thought that a fart could actually be romantic?
We did so many things you and I, we would try to shock and surprise each other, while we played the game of never really talking about the details. Full anal penetration was one of our favorite things, and although we did it at least once a month, we never really tired of it. When I say full, I'm referring to how, once you had become a little loose, we'd go at it very vigorously, and of course we did it unprotected, because we were strictly monogamous, (something that still turns me on when I recall it, the delicious, frustrating restraint of a closed relationship, a very special type of bondage). It has to be acknowledged that because we didn't do any special preparation for these times, it would sometimes get a little marred down there. I've chanced upon scat sites sometimes, and look, each to their own, but I just don't like to see that on strangers. With you however, as I've said, my acceptance was total. Also, we can say you were pretty healthy, and aside from the exception I'm about to discuss, at most, there would be a little staining between your cheeks, and light film of brown on my member. You would always know when it was like that, that slightly unpleasant fecal smell would start to occupy the room, and I just LOVED how we never discussed it but how our bodies and the types of sounds we'd make would jointly register and communicate our acknowledgment that you were soiling a little and we were there, right there together with it and we were good with it ALL!
When I think of our time, I still marvel at where we went together, while still maintaining such reserve, such an intoxicating blend of subtlety and excess. We were the "British couple", I occasionally joke to myself. Look, it's good to be saying these things to you, and I really hope you'll write back, I hope you haven't recoiled from these reminiscences, that these memories also mean something to you, that they evoke a fondness for the "us" that was, as they do for me. So, here goes, I need to tell you something that I am sure you didn't know.
One morning, the morning after a prolonged evening of conventional, wonderful sex, I woke first. You often weren't keen on morning sex, so I decided to wake you up in an aroused state and I put my face at your muff and gently, very gently started to kiss and lick you and you started to come around, rolled all the way onto your back and let your legs slide apart so that I could reach you better to deliver your pleasure, my breakfast in bed. "What a lovely way to wake up", you mumbled sleepily. One thing led to another and, still half asleep you raised your legs high and wide and put your beautiful, beautiful backside right where I could reach it with my tongue and I licked your rosebud with total, joyous abandon. We drew this out, until you gently pushed my face away, rolled over and presented to me, chest on the bed, backside high and glorious, cheeks spread as far apart as they would go. I gave you a few thrusts front-side, and then you reached back, pulled me out, slimy with goo, and placed the head against your back opening. It went in with little resistance, naturally lubricated as it was and we began ever so gently, ever so sweetly, your little moans making me feel a tenderness I can barely stand to recall. Here we get to the part we'd never have spoken about out loud, so I'm a little nervous right now, I do so hope this doesn't sully your memories, but you would usually have used the bathroom by this time of the morning, and I could feel myself sliding in and out against a somewhat firm stool that was resting with its end just short of the ring of your anus. (Sorry for going all anatomical on you.) I'm certain you were very aware of this state of affairs and you even started shaking a bit and uncharacteristically asked me, "is it good, what's it like?" with a distinct, trembling slur to your voice, honestly, you were really shaking all over. I rejoined with some inanity, like "wonderful" or something and we didn't speak further, but boy, were we both so, so high. I lasted for as long as I could but inevitably I felt the moment drawing nearer and nearer, and leaning down toward your ear, I asked for your permission to release. "Yes, yes, yes", you said, quavering with such urgency that I couldn't have turned around if I'd wanted and, speeding up, I spasmed and gushed and felt my utterly swollen end raking up and down that stool inside you.
You stayed put, breathing heavily, and I leaned over you, panting, still in place, the air heavy with the after-silence, the taint of excrement and sex. I knew I had to move, so, still carefully inside you, I reached over and pulled a couple of tissues from the bedside, then slowly began to withdraw. I felt your anus tensing around me, no doubt you wanted to keep your faces inside, and as I pulled clear, I placed the tissues against your open, wonderful hole and your hand came back between you legs to hold them in place. I felt so protective of you in that moment the thought of it still makes me warm all over. I leaned forward and planted a kiss on your lower back and you uttered a lovely "mmmmmmmm". It was only when I got to the bathroom that I took stock of the situation. I was still partially erect and covered in a glistening sheen of cum that had taken on a distinctly brown taint. I also had some solids, a good band of it packed into the ridge behind my glans, almost forming a ring all the way around, and a well formed round wet dob stuck spread over the end, as well as some good-sized crumbs that had ridden the length of my penis to nestle in my pubes. I stood for a moment, struggling between queasiness and an enormous sense of happiness, then chose the latter when I reminded myself that this mess was your mess and therefor could not possibly be bad.
As I stood there, I heard you come in to use the toilet and waited by the hand basin while you emptied your bowels, a prolonged, almost continuous plopping and splashing that filled the confined space with a rich, fecal funk. Exchanging a deeply conspiratorial smile with me, you wiped your lovely bottom, washed yourself over the bidet, washed your hands and headed back to bed. I made to follow your example with the bidet, then had another thought. I pulled a small, stoppered plastic tube from the bathroom cabinet, emptied the ear plugs into the waste bin and proceeded to scrape and pick every piece of your dirt off my member and collect it in the tube, replaced the cap and stood it on the the hand basin. After I had carefully cleaned myself in the bidet, I scrubbed my hands, brushing vigorously under the fingernails, disinfected the outside of the tube and put it in the bottom of the vanity draw from where I collected it later and hid it with a few very personal items. I hope you don't think I'm weird.
Now you're married and far away and I'm with Tracie, and I really hope you're happy, because I am. With Tracie, it's mostly a great, close friendship, although we have a pleasing, although casual, almost off-handed type of love life which is nice but to tell the truth, not very important, it's not what makes us as a couple.
I lead a double life. When Tracie's away, I invite my memories back, of you, and of other loves where things were anything but perfunctory, often intensely extreme, the types of memories that wouldn't leave you alone even if you wanted them to. When I spend time visiting our past, I bring the little tube out, and I pop the top and gently sniff your fecal delights and the intensity of it all comes flooding back in and I'm there with you again thrusting all the way in, feeling your rectum twitch around me.
So why now, why am I writing to you after all this time? Well, you probably don't think of feces "going off" do you, but I think this is what has happened. Over the last few months, the smell has declined in intensity and what is left isn't too pleasant. I guess it's drying out, but it just doesn't have any freshness about it, so, here's what I'm asking.
Can you please send me a replacement? I would be so, so, endlessly grateful.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/3itqz4/mfanalscat_the_momento
Three words for you: FILTHY, TWISTED, FUNNY