Tales from the Scat Club (3) The Pizza Delivery Guy

Paul and Jeff were sitting side by side against one side of the conservatory drinking pints of beer, gazing up in wonder and transfixed at the scene before them. There was no need for words, Patrick was a bit of an exhibitionist. He had stripped naked to do his shit in a business-like way as if he assumed everybody did it like this. He had stood about two feet in front of them facing away and spread his legs ready for action. If he performed like this there was going to be more than beer in their glasses to taste. Not today, they thought, and gently edged apart to make room.

Paul was feeling unsettled. When Jeff had told him that Patrick was straight, he expected a builder-type but his first sight was of a superb little uncut cock as Patrick whirled off his kit in front of their noses. It was the perfect, plump cone shape for Paul, just a covering of brown, pubic hair and he thought he had better cross his legs. He tried to focus on the matter in hand. Patrick’s bum was so tight and firm, shaping down to wiry legs that, under the light of the nearby tablelamp, he could pick out all the shapely muscles from his thighs down to his knees. He imagined it carved out of marble. Indeed it would make the perfect sculpture and would be a lot more interesting to him than, say, Michaelangelo’s David with its ridiculously small penis. ‘Boy Bending Over About to Shit’ by Raphael. He could see it now in the Uffizi gallery in Florence. The tour guide solicitously showing a small group of tourists to it and carefully explaining its importance to Renaissance Art. Then as they left, some Italian tourist would run her finger down its back in curiosity and then hurry away embarrassed.

His mind was rudely brought back to his room with a noise there. He shook his head, gulped a swig of beer and focused to see what it was. Yes – the club. The noise was a loud fart like an explosion and it came from the bum two feet from his nose. Patrick was about to do a shit. Paul tried not to look startled as he carefully leaned forward. There was lots of choreography with this performance. Patrick would look round occasionally to see what was happening and then grip his bum cheeks with his hand to pull open a bit. Each time, Paul and Jeff got a glimpse of a fringe of fine, brown hair shading into a deep, narrow chasm with a dark, hard muscle at its centre. He adjusted his stance one more time and with a gentle grunt and push, they saw Patrick pull open his bum and this time he paused as they saw the black had turned light brown as a small mountain poked out at the middle.

“Do you see it?” queried Patrick. Jeff and Paul leaned in about six inches from his bum and Paul found the bravado to touch the butt cheeks and pull them open a little bit more to see better as Jeff gave him a dirty look. They gasped out a breathy ‘yes’ in unison and waited. “Will I do it now?” he asked. Jeff had time to think. “Yes, but take your time.” “OK,” said Patrick.

He looked round once more and pulled his cheeks apart. The small mountain disappeared into his body for the last time like the tide receding before the tidal wave struck and he prepared for a last push. Then his shit started to flow out his bum like a hard river – two inches – four inches – it just kept on coming. At six inches he paused, looked round again and saw the brown cylinder dangling there. “Oh, that feels good,” he sighed. He readjusted his stance and this caused the shit to break off and fall on the floor with a plop. He put his hand round to see what was there and as he felt a little bit sticking there he pushed again. This time there was a beautiful medley of grunts as it all came out in bits punctuated by blasts of gas as each shit came out and fell on the floor. When he had finished he looked round one last time and gave a final sigh and went off to the bathroom in search of tissue.

Just then there was knock at the door. Jeff lifted up the paper and the shit and opened a window or two and headed into the garden to the compost heap while Paul went to answer. “Hello, you ordered these pizzas?” A student-type guy stood at the door in his uniform with their order.

** I hope you didn’t mind, I got caught up with Patrick a while there – what happened with the pizza delivery guy next time. **

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