As my boyfriend gulped down the last of his morning coffee, he looked at me with sparkling eyes, anticipating the treat I had in store for him. He had a rather unusual fetish, which often left me feeling repulsed, but he assured me that it brought him immense pleasure. I sighed reluctantly, knowing what was about to come next.
I walked over to our bathroom and returned with a small plastic container filled with dark, revolting feces. My stomach turned at the vile smell wafting through the air. "Here it is," I said, handing it over to him. He took it from me gratefully, his pupils dilating as he stared at the contents longingly. "Thank you, babe," he murmured, bringing the container closer to his face.
"You're welcome," I replied, trying not to gag at the sight of his excitement. I couldn't understand how anyone could find pleasure in such obscenity.
He positioned himself on the floor, his back against the cold tiles, and spread his legs wide open. I watched as he exposed himself, his cock already hardening at the thought of what was to come. He dipped his fingers into the sticky mess inside the container and brought some of it out, rubbing it over his swollen tip. I couldn't help but feel nauseous at the sight.
He looked up at me, eyes shining with an unnatural intensity, and then plunged his face into the clump of feces with a loud slurping sound. His movements were quick and steady, as if he was ingesting the biggest meal of his life. I cringed at the sound of smacking lips coming from behind the messy mask covering half of his face.
It was horrifying to watch but at the same time, I felt a twinge of excitement seeing him so consumed by his perverse pleasure. As he continued to consume, a look of pure bliss spread across his face, chasing away any remaining disgust. His moans of pleasure only added to my sense of revulsion as I watched him lap up every last drop of shit from the container.
Suddenly, there was a loud gurgling sound coming from his stomach, followed by a look of pure ecstasy that almost made him pass out. I knew what was happening; he had reached his limit and had to empty his bowels. I reached for some toilet paper, preparing myself for what was about to come next.
He rose unsteadily to his feet, his legs trembling under the weight of the rush he was experiencing. I guided him to the toilet seat, her urging him to release all that he had consumed. And he did; an explosion of feces and fluids splattered all over the bowl and the sides. Some even landed on my shoes and pant legs, making me feel a strange mix of disgust and annoyance.
I handed him the toilet paper, and he used it to clean himself up just enough to stand upright. His eyes were still glazed over with lust as we made our way back to the living room where he collapsed onto the couch, his body spent from the experience. I sat down beside him, feeling both repulsed and oddly aroused by what we had just done together.
We sat in silence for a while, the stench of shit lingering in the air. I couldn't help but feel like I had crossed a line, but at the same time, I couldn't deny the thrill it gave him. We exchanged a faint smile, acknowledging the strange intimacy we shared through our dark desires. As much as I hated to admit it, I knew that I wouldn't be able to deny him this aspect of himself, no matter how gross it may seem to others. After all, love is about accepting each other's flaws, however sickening they might be.
