How I grew to love scat: my favourite escort

Though most of my poo fantasies, indeed, actual experiences, have been about and with older, ideally old, men over the years, for preference in depraved anonymous encounters in public toilets while masturbating, I have trained myself to love shit in the company of three or four female escorts – I could never find the right way to have my partner produce some for me, and it doesn’t work, I need anonymity, so I went to a professional or three . Two were a disappointment, much too young and inexperienced, and too beautiful, and didn’t arouse me enough, but two were outstanding. I had seen a larger dominant German woman in a medical fetish scenario for a month or so, because I was at that time obsessively interested in being pissed on by an older stranger, and regularly administered an enema to myself when I stayed in hotels, loved the full feeling, and wanted to take it as far as I could and have it done to me by a fetish nurse. So I found myself in the company of this severe, calm and dominant woman in her fifties, dressed as a nurse in white PVC, blouse, stockings and a white coat, blond bleached hair ties back, rolls of fat under her dress, and really huge, pendulous, older woman’s breasts. And naked, and tormented, with my cock half stiff, full of enema and needing to pee I asked to be led to the shower to let my enema and piss go and to be pissed-on as I did. She led me in her improbably high white heels and white stockings, and rucked-up her shiny skirt, one white shoe on my shoulder as I sat against the corner tiles, pulled up a few times to loosed her shaven cunt, spread the long pink labia with the fingers of one hand, and closed her eyes to concentrate as she unsmilingly directed a long, powerful warm stream of urine at my chest, as I let go a tummy full of warm liquid to flood the tray. But that day it wasn’t entirely enough, and despite a few squeezes and pulls on my foreskin, my cock remained only semi hard. And so I asked her slowly, guessing words she would understand, and sheepishly since I didn’t know how she’d react, whether it was even a service she offeed since she specialised in CBT pain, which I wasn’t and am not into, whether she might be able to poo at all for me to watch and masturbate to. She implied by her manner that she would at least try but couldn’t promise at short notice, and as I squatted, dripping, rubbing myself, she pulled the white PVC skirt up further, squatted opposite, our legs overlapping, leaning back, all pink skin and a strangely erotic roll of fat over the suspender belt, hairless labia gaping wide, grunting a little as she pushed, to no effect. After minutes of repeated pushing she muttered something positive and pushed her bottom forward, laying back a little more, legs now inelegantly and uncomfortably spread, stockinged feet struggling for grip, and pulled one cheek hard aside so I could see her surprisingly tight virginal bleached anus pouting as she pushed, the light pink protruding as I got my face as close as I could, wanking now, the hot scent of her cunt and farts filling my nostrils, and with a sudden squirt a thin, quite curly loose ribbon of shit came out, much like brown toothpaste, curling quickly onto the tray, and then stopped with a few pops and farts. She reached and closed her her fat, but long fingers around my penis, long painted nails scratching my balls and glans, and masturbated me gently as she tried to find more poo,, but eased herself forward and up into a squat, and motioned that we might better return to her medical examination room to finish me off. I suggested, or motioned when we arrived, that I would like to bring myself off while I examined her anally and vaginally with a gloved hand, she with her feet in the stirrups as she lay back on the trolley – and she complied (but wouldn’t let me uncup a breast I recall, the buttons on her blouse straining and a blue bra showing through: but she had the decency to moan in pleasure, fake or real I didn’t care, as I probed). I applied a condom, and rubbed my now swollen rubber-covered glans across her moist – with jelly – lips and holes. And then, gloriously, she farted ; two long windy farts, the tummy flattened as she squeezed, she smiled a little, head back, and said she felt she could in fact shit for me into a stainless steel kidney dish – which I grabbed and pushed into place as she squeezed and grunted to push out now what looked like a much more solid, light brown shit. It took minutes (maybe ten) to emerge, both of us perspiring in the summer heat, me on the brink of cumming, she occasionally squirting a stream of piss onto me, the paper towelling or into the dish, it running over the half-out poo, her anus pouting painfully with pink exposed, until it’s full width emerged and she squeezed it off, let it fall slimily into the dish, pushed out another smaller one more quickly, and a third smear of paste to form a little pile. As she rubbed her moist labia with her painted nails, the mingled scent of light antiseptic, her perfume, sweat and now shit filling the air, I pulled at my rubber-covered cock, intending to try to push it into her greasy and gaping anus to cum, but not sure whether I should ask first: and then in the excitement of the moment I pulled off the condom, pulled back my foreskin to expose my pre-cum covered glans, and pushed it down into the shit, warm and very greasy, spreading it inside the dish as I fucked it, grabbing my shaft to wank it with abandon, shit spreading as far as my balls and tummy, staring at her two holes and the brown mess as I came as hard as I have ever done, gobs of creamy white mingling with her light brown. As my erection slowly diminished in the dish, not knowing what to do next, she eased herself off the trolley, a smear of shit on her skirt, and gently rubbed her poop around my balls and cock, and with my shit covered hand in hers led me back to the shower.

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