My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming 
Author Message
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming

Boy, you're full of shit


Sun, 18 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming
From dockmaster.phantom.com!nabokov Fri Apr 21 11:20:06 1995
Path: dockmaster.phantom.com!nabokov

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: My Shit Don't Stink: A Story
Date: 18 Apr 1995 02:47:22 GMT
Organization: Wozz's Place
Lines: 118

NNTP-Posting-Host: chewy.wookie.net
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]

This story is very explicit!!!! If you are under the age of 18, wear a pace-
maker, are a Congressman, are an animal-rights activist, a vegetarian or,
like, an immature loser, then don't READ ON.

This story represents my views and desires as well as those of my employer.

Copyright 1995, {*filter*}Nectar Productions

        Call me Squish-Male.  I feel as if I cannot reveal my true identity,
because the nature of my particular desire is so horrifying, so hideous,
so smarmily appealing, that I must evict myself from society.  Yes, I am
an isolatto, a lone palm-bearer of perversity among the blackness of
darkness.  

        I first discovered the nature of my affliction at the age of 15.  I
was a budding young haquer, ele3t as the day, sailing the alt.sex
hierarchy in search of some needed titillation.  I came across a post
which was unlike all the others.  It surpassed them all in twistedness,
in delicious perversity.  Let me reproduce it as best I can from memory,
since it's evil, lustrous loveliness was so amazingly formative for me:

        "Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

        "
        "Hi guys.  So, like, I was like taking a shit the other day, and
        it was so {*filter*}ing amazing man, like I got a total erektion.  I
        didn't know why, but I were like totlly arowsed.  So, I reached
        into toilet and smear shit all over my kneecaps.  I thought this
        was gross, but then I realized how {*filter*} it was.  I continue to
        rub shit pellets over my stomach, and thighs, and {*filter*}s.  I
        savor the {*filter*} smell.  I think now of stroking my {*filter*}."

        I was so rivetted by his ejaculatory confession that, for days, I
couldn't erase the image from my mind.  I was terrified, like my
predecessor, that I was ill, that I was "gross."  My reservations,
however, amounted to nothing.  I had fallen in love with the image, the
idea, the very thought of following in this daring, alt.sex poster's
footsteps.  And so, I embarked on a journey to the bathroom.  

        I sat down on the cold, dastardly throne, like an enormous snow-hill
in the air.  At first, it's daunting chilliness made me uncomfortable;
nay, rather, afraid that I would never escape from this mad indulgence.  
But soon, the thought of my own immorality, of going blind, of getting
piles diminished.  I felt a slow, warm tingling between my legs.  This was
due to the storm which was not-so-slowly brewing within the confines of my
colon.  I knew that I could not turn back at this point, and suddenly,
the roll of toilet-paper next to me, dangling reassuringly, began to finely
tremble in time with the shuddering deep within my{*filter*}.  I geared up,
grasped the smooth, cool porcelain which supported me, and waited.  A
primeval rumble was emanating from the recess of my ass, so rich and
profound in nature, that it seemed to forebode the massive profusion of
chocolate riches which my digestive system so painfully and
unqillignly harbored.  I sat back, my hard, nubile young body, toned
after years of sitting in front of a computer -- my fingers bearing the
trademark callouses of my (dual) life-calling.  

        A slick, wet heat began to sear my{*filter*}.  I began to feel my
beloved ass-muscles parting, like two long-rusted gates barring the
entrance to a enormously opulent, ancient city, pregnant with delights,
hidden for centuries from trade and outside contact by a jealous ruler.  
Now, it began.  Like a deluge of spring run-off, a gargantuan, bubbly
flood, originating from the deepest, dankest recess of my being,
excruciatingly exploded forth.  Truly, this was the Chocolate Quik of the
gods, an immemorial liquid ecstasy of mocha molasses.  Studded with
half-digested chunks, gemmed with peanuts and other small tributes to
meals past, it flowed like the septis from a thousand ghetto sewers.  It
popped, gurgled, imploded, exploded.  It gushed out in a gorgeous black
blast, as if from a bursting fire-hydrant, seething, burning.

        During this amazing catharsis, I must confess that, like my
predecessor, my {*filter*} became hugely erect.  It stood before my like an
old friend, practically purple with anticipation, it's veiny impudence
beckoning further, forbidden action.  I paused for a second, remembering
my previous doubts.  But, this was not the time for hesitation, and so I
quickly moved forward.  I reached down into the vortex of the toilet,
into that by now wonderfully odorous abyss, and scooped out a large gob
of diarrhetic mass.  Holding it aloft, I regarded it lovingly, it's burnt
sienna slickness so inviting.  Immediately, I splashed it all over me,
really in an aimless, wasteful manner.  My gesture was more one of
release, one of defiant self-liberation, than one of studied
self-titillation.  After that, however, I took my time.  

        I looked down at myself, at my brown, peanutty glory, and began
to weep.  I wept for all the years during which I had been imprisoned in
a terrible cage of {*filter*} intimidation.  

        I smeared every last bit that the toilet, like a goblet of finest
porcelain, had to offer.  My arms were caked in now drying shit.  My face
bore the most malodorous decorations, the tattoos of the jungle hunter.  
I placed a little giblet of {*filter*}in my belly-button, which I intended to
keep there long after my escapade.  I squished the diarrhetic mash
between my toes, working it under the nails.  I luxuriated in it,
smelling it, kissing it -- at times, yes, munching on it.  

        And then, I began to rub the gorgeous garbage onto my{*filter*}.  It
was so liberating.  So lovely, so outlandishly great.  "This beats
{*filter*}," I thought, "This is better than any Jake Baker story I've
ever read!"  My pee-pee swelled with lust.  Little Richard throbbed with
fecal delight.  I worked the brown elixir all over the length of my
shaft, and smeared it deep into the skin on its head.  "Better, as well,
than Vaseline Intensive Care!"  I began to pump and jerk, drawing in the
{*filter*} fumes -- that delicious combination of chocolate and crotch-sweat --
and, as if after an age of work -- it began.  Torrents of creamy, milky
explosion began to course from the depths of my wee-wald, contrasting so
sexily with the blackness of the darkness all over my body -- the effect
splurging me to the precipice of orgiastic abandon.  

Well, that's my story!  Please, I'd love to have feed-back.  I want to
know what you guys think!!  If you all want, you can either mail me or
post.  Let's keep the comments constructive, though!!!!!!



Sun, 18 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming
Keep it inside yourself, there is no need to spell it out!!!


Sun, 18 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming
uh.....


Sun, 18 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming
What the hell is this?


Sun, 18 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming

Quote:

> uh.....

Yeah, I was speechless myself.


Mon, 19 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming

Quote:

>Well, that's my story!  Please, I'd love to have feed-back.  I want to
>know what you guys think!!  If you all want, you can either mail me or
>post.  Let's keep the comments constructive, though!!!!!!

Lousy grammar.

All those cross-posts and he didn't send it to alt.tasteless?
Alt.rush-limbaugh was a nice touch though.

        Pud-Man
_______________________________
Religion stops a thinking brain



Mon, 19 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming
ex.{*filter*},alt.binaries.pictures.{*filter*}a,alt.2600,soc.religion.kibology,alt.{*filter*}.bald.captains,alt.slack,soc.culture.afghanistan,alt.rush-limbaugh

Distribution:

: Boy, you're full of shit

apparently, not so anymore



Mon, 19 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 My Shit Don't Stink: A Fantasia in Brown, Second Coming

Quote:

>uh.....

Yeah! My thoughts exactly!


Fri, 23 Jan 1998 03:00:00 GMT  
 
 [ 11 post ] 

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