A few weeks later, I was sitting in my tub, most of my body covered in shit, my shit, that I had just spread all over myself. Tasha was supposed to have joined me, but she had to cancel at the last minute. So I resorted to a solo session, treating myself to a leisurely shit bath, pampering myself with my greatest fetish obsession. Tasha and I had scatted together in this bathtub a few times already, and once on the floor when she brought an old shower curtain with her. I have been trying to get Dr. Cramer to come up here and scat with me, too, maybe all three of us together, but no success there yet. Sometimes I felt he was trying to avoid me, but I couldn't figure out why. I would let him do anything he wanted to me, piss all over me, shit on me and in my mouth, cover me totally and fuck me everywhere if he wished, I would welcome all of it. I told him that, too, about as bluntly as I could.
Once I came down to the office after he had arrived but before Tasha did, after putting shit on my lips like lipstick. I'd spent quite a bit of time rubbing my finger in the log I had just made and applying it to my lips, trying to make it look just like a dark-brown shade of lip-gloss. It took so long because I kept licking it off to taste it and had to start all over again; finally, I just put a big piece in my mouth to suck on until I finished. I thought this makeup innovation might be just surprising and out-of-the-ordinary enough to capture his attention, get his juices flowing and excited for me. I'd done a pretty good job, I thought, and went downstairs to the office.
I found Dr. Cramer standing by his desk sipping some coffee, and I went up very near to him and said "Good Morning," waiting for his reaction. He returned the greeting, looking at my lips the whole time but walked away. Talk about feeling insulted! I was about to say something, something that expressed my anger, but he turned around suddenly and said, "Is that what I think it is on your lips?"
My anger dissipated instantly and I replied, "Do you like it, Dr. Cramer? I put it on just for you." Other people might think that remark was a huge insult, comparing him to shit, but I know
you
would never think that,
you
would know exactly how to interpret that remark as it was meant. And, of course, so did he. In a heartbeat he kissed me, sucking my lips into his mouth, licking them with his tongue until all the shit was gone. That was more fucking like it! I told him we could share the rest of the log upstairs, if he wanted, I hadn't flushed it away yet, and reiterated again he could do whatever else he so desired with me, the filthier and nastier the better, but to my great disappointment, he declined my offer, saying he needed to go to the hospital momentarily. Would my wishes ever be fulfilled with this man?
Because I thought Tasha, who is Dr. Cramer's nurse in case you've forgotten, would be joining me, I'd done some preparing to assure I'd have lots of shit to contribute to our play. You can imagine since all of that was for just me now how much I was covered. There was a thick coating from my neck to my knees as well as all over my ass and back up inside it, too. It felt so creamy and I couldn't stop smearing it on myself. I made a fist with my hands and the dark-brown pasty ooze squished through my fingers. I waited a bit to rub it all over my face and hair, letting my imagination go a little wild first, and then I started, slow at the beginning and then all over with both hands and finally in my mouth. I rubbed my pussy on exactly the right spot, my God Spot, I call it, because whenever I touch myself there I can't help moaning "Oh, my God!" over and over until I come.
Tasha was the first person I scatted with other than myself, and that happened not too many days after the toilet episode I told you about last time. Back then, since time was again short, Dr. Cramer had assured Tasha that they would have a scat session later. I was hoping that would be in the office and I could participate, but by 5 p.m. the office was closed and empty. A few days later I got Tasha to agree to come to my apartment after office hours. I ordered some takeout and while we ate, I asked her whether she and Dr. Cramer scatted that night, and she said yes.
"We went to his house," she said. "He lives on a farm in the country with his wife Alexa, who is a veterinarian, and an adopted brother of hers named Ches."
"Well, go on," I said. "Tell me what happened."
"He has a special section in the barn that's like a fancy converted bathroom/sauna, specially designed with scatting in mind: a large shower area, two bathtubs, a hot tub, sinks, heating for the wintertime, very elaborate, very nice. They host scat parties there all the time. That's where we went, and in a little while Alexa joined us."
"Ches, too?" I asked. "That's an unusual name."
