Diagnosing A Fetish Ch 10

It was the first time in a long time that I awoke in bed next to another person. There was certainly an initial shock, my hand hitting someone's body as I stretched under the covers. But that faded quickly as remembered last night, as I remembered

who

I was in bed with.

Kat was still fast asleep, despite my hitting her. In sharp contrast to last night, her hair was a mess, and her face was makeup-free. Seldom did I see her like this, but I cherished every time I did. I don't know why I preferred her like this, to be honest. Maybe it felt more real.

"Are you just going to keep staring at me?" Kat grumbled, barely opening her eyes.

Maybe I did wake her up when I hit her.

"What did you want me to do?"

She said nothing in response, just pursing her lips. Understanding the request, I leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. Seemingly unsatisfied, however, Kat held the back of my head and stole three more before pulling me into a tight bear hug.

The hug acted as a sharp reminder that we were both naked. For me, I decided it was more desirable than running next door to get a pair of my pajamas last night. Kat just said she liked sleeping naked better. Regardless, both decisions led us here; our bare breasts pressing against each other, her thigh involuntarily - or maybe voluntarily - rubbing between my legs. The intimacy felt a little unfamiliar to me - a strange fact considering just how

intimate

we were last night.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"About what?"

"Life, I guess," she replied, running her hand through my hair.

I could sense some level of what I guessed to be unease in her tone. Though, I didn't know its cause. Was she regretting what we did last night, or worried that I was? "Decided to get philosophical all of a sudden?" I asked, pushing her face away with my hand and wriggling free from her grip. "I feel good."

Was that the truth?

It was for now. But I was not unfamiliar with the short-lived post-sex happiness, nor was I unfamiliar with the crushing regret that often followed for me as of late. But I

was

feeling good right now. Maybe that's what I needed to focus on.

"Well, I'm feeling tired," she yawned, rolling back over while pulling the sheets up to her chin. "Ten more minutes and then maybe I'll get up to make some breakfast."

Strangely, for one of the few times in my life, I was feeling wide awake despite the early hour. Leaving Kat in bed, I slinked out from under the sheets and made my way down the hall, entering her small bathroom. It was convenient I guess that our apartments were mirror images of one another. It made navigating when still groggy a whole lot easier.

Flicking on the bathroom light, I closed the door, doing my best to avoid the mirror but eventually succumbing. It was rare that I stood naked in front of one - I had learned that lesson long ago, even before Dave left. It was unsurprising, then, that my eye was immediately drawn to all my worst parts.

Cellulite on my thighs and ass, stretch marks developing around my waist, and - worst of all - the gut I had developed since the divorce. It hardly looked like the body of a 34-year-old woman. I tried not to dwell on it as I peeled myself from my reflection; as little good as that did.

Flipping the lid of Kat's toilet, I sat down, the chill of the cold seat running through my body. As is started to pee, I did my best not to think about my body. In letting my mind water, unfortunately, my brain quickly made its way back to Kat's question. I desperately tried not to think about it, but it was inevitable.

How do you feel?

What was its genesis? And was my answer truthful?

I feel good.

I mulled the answer over. It was true, I guess. Or, as true as any answer to that question could be, all options having some level of dishonesty when dissected enough. Right now, for example, it was good. An hour from now? Or hell, a couple of weeks? That was unknown.

Truthfully, what I cared about more than anything, was how

Kat

was feeling. I never felt good. I hadn't felt good for a long time. But if she was regretting last night, or having second thoughts, then that was something new.

The light knocks at the door barely registered. It swinging open was the first thing that caught my attention, followed by Kat slipping inside. "I thought you were tired."

"Couldn't fall back asleep. You almost done? I need to piss."

Her sudden intrusion briefly clouded my mind, but her question was a sharp reminder of what I was doing. Snapping my legs together, I cut off the trickle of pee that was still leaving my body.

"You're acting like we didn't just have sex last night," she stated nonchalantly before her face shifted to a look of realization. "Oh, shit. I didn't..."

Doing my best to appear relaxed, I let my legs open and moved my hands away from my crotch. "No, it's fine." Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I haphazardly wiped before standing and flushing the toilet. "It's all yours."

I could tell Kat was still unsure, a level of trepidation both on her face and in the way she hesitated to move from the doorway. Eventually, it seemed her need to go outweighed the opposition. So, still looking in my direction, she took a seat and let nature take its course.

It was strange being in a room with someone else using the toilet for the first time. Well, other than public bathrooms, of course. Even as I washed my hands in the sink, I could faintly hear Kat's pee hitting the water in the toilet bowl.

It felt almost predatory, but I was immediately turned on. It didn't help matters that we were both naked. As Kat had said, we just had sex last night. And yet, this was almost more erotic to me. A private matter shared only between the closest people, rarely seen by anyone other than yourself.

I'm sure she noticed the not-so-subtle glances I was stealing her way. Just as I'm sure she noticed how long I stood at the sink washing my hands. To tell the truth - despite being aware of how obvious I was being - I almost stayed longer.

I did, however, eventually pull myself away, drying my hands before slipping out of the bathroom. Though, I didn't make it further than just outside, hovering with the hopes of hearing anything behind the thin wood door. It was a couple of minutes later when Kat peeked her head out to address me.

"Hey, I'm going to take a shower."

It was strange considering we showered less than twelve hours ago, but I understood. Last night was more of a 'fun' shower. Right now, I wanted a

real

one. I didn't think she was offering me to join her again, but I decided not to risk it. "Oh, sure. I was actually thinking about going back to my place to do the same."

"Yeah, no problem. Meet back in here in thirty? I still owe you breakfast."

I guess I thought correctly. Or she was good at hiding her feelings.

"Sure. See you in thirty," I said, giving an awkward wave as her head disappeared back into the bathroom and the door closed.

Unwilling to leave her apartment naked - even if it was just to run next door - I returned to her living room where we had undressed. Our clothes were intermixed, piles scattered across the floor and a few loose garments hanging from various pieces of furniture. I didn't remember being this careless last night.

I found my pants and panties easily, picking them off the floor near the leg of her couch. My shirt, however, was more difficult. That had fallen partially under the coffee table, obscured by the heap of black fabric that was Kat's jumpsuit.

Extracting the tangled knot of clothes, I shook free my shirt. With it, however, came another article of clothing: Kat's lacey black panties. Looping my finger in their waistband, I lifted them from the floor and carefully inspected them. They looked clean, but I could still catch a hint of the woman's musk on the crotch.

I almost considered pocketing them before I came to my senses, shaking away the arousal clouding my judgment. I left with her jumpsuit on the coffee table, both folded, before returning my attention to getting dressed.

Since I was only going next door, I forwent my panties and bra. I just needed to cover my nakedness after all, not look presentable, so I slipped my shirt and slacks over my bare body. It was a little scratchy, perhaps, but good enough.

I pulled my purse - still resting by the front door - over my shoulder and retrieved my keys before stuffing my panties and bra inside. Finally, slipping on my shoes, I exited Kat's apartment and unlocked mine, slipping inside the dark foyer.

As fast as I had just dressed, I removed all my clothes once again. My shoes were kicked haphazardly on the mat near the door as I walked, my purse joining them on the floor once I removed the hidden undergarments from inside.

Gathering everything into a ball, I tossed them into the bathroom's laundry basket. The unnaturally cold light bulbs above the vanity flickered to life as I flipped the light switch, the gentle hum of the fan joining them soon after. I soon myself once again in the shower, thoughts I didn't want filling my brain, and an unignorable arousal filling my body.

As the warm water washed over me, I gave myself to the pleasure. A hand between my legs, slowly rubbing my clit. Another between my lips, my tongue dancing over my index as I sucked it, as I pictured it was Kat's.

It was strange having now slept with her officially. These were less fantasies and more memories of our night spent together. However, the memory that stole my focus was not from last night. Her sitting on the toilet, the sound of her pee splashing the water below.

I could feel my sex pulse and contract at the memory. How desperately I wanted to be there, between her legs as she released her stale urine. I wanted to smell it, to taste it. I wanted to rub it against my bare flesh.

I let my own pee start to flow, what remained after I abruptly cut off my bladder when Kat had entered the bathroom. I could feel the warmth running down my leg as I stood, back against the tile wall. Its sound was lost in the deluge of water from the shower's head, any bystander likely unable to tell I was peeing at all.

But

I

certainly could.

The sexual, almost visceral reaction my body had to it. The way it sprayed against my fingers as I feverishly rubbed my clit. My hand was moving faster, now. A desperate act of a human turned animal yearning for release.

My hand left my mouth as I approached climax ever faster. Index sufficiently coated in my saliva, it snaked between my cheeks until brushing against the oh-so-familiar wrinkled flesh off my sphincter. I teased the tight opening only briefly before slipping inside.

Initially, it was only to my first knuckle, the head of my finger teasing my forbidden passage. But that didn't last long, it couldn't. It soon went to the second knuckle before being swallowed in its entirety.

I explored the passage, my index circling the sensitive, soft flesh near the opening to my bowels. A second finger joined soon after. Both wiggled and stroked feverishly, occasionally slipping out only to be forced back in deeper.

I hadn't gone to the bathroom since yesterday, so it came as no surprise when they eventually sunk into a soft mass in my intestines. While most people - and even I a few months ago - would've stopped here, horrified at the lack of cleanliness, I couldn't fathom it.

In fact, I pushed them deeper. Simultaneously relaxing my bowels, I could feel the mass working its way down my digits. The feeling, in combination with my other hand still rapidly frigging my clit, was otherworldly. But I needed more. I needed to see it.

So that's exactly what I did.

Yanking my fingers from my sphincter, I couldn't help but marvel at the thick coating of brown. It started at their tips, a surprisingly thick layer that went to below my second knuckle. I had to turn my back to the spray of the shower to avoid washing it off just to study the cacked-on filth.

Up close, I could see remnants of my dinner last night. I could smell it, too, a heady, putrid funk that was almost intoxicating. Don't get me wrong, I knew it smelled bad, but, simultaneously, it was incredible. It was like the smell of gasoline; overpowering and bad logically, but also addicting.

I don't know what came over me at that moment. It felt as if I was floating above my body, watching powerless as my tongue inched out of my mouth and into the fetid waste that covered my flesh. At first, it was just a cautious probing, but it quickly turned into licking, sucking, tasting.

It quickly dawned on me; this was my first time tasting shit.

Honestly, it tasted like how I had heard. It was bitter, earthy, and gross. I almost immediately gagged, my tongue so unfamiliar with the flavor. And yet, it was enough to forcefully welcome my climax, a muscle-tensing, knee-weakening orgasm that ripped through my body.

As the waves faded and my muscles relaxed, the post-nut clarity was quick to replace it. I wasted no time rinsing the brown filth from my fingers, questioning everything I had just done. One question, however, trumped all others.

"Would Kat be OK with this?"

Our relationship was barely labeled, and her feelings toward me were up in the air, but I still had to consider it. She knew about my fetishes, sure, but not the details. If we were to get together - like

seriously

get together - would she be willing to explore them?

If she wasn't, I didn't know what I would do. A month or two ago might have been different. Now, after talking to Dr. Morse and experimenting, I knew I couldn't ignore these fetishes. I knew I couldn't ignore how much piss and shit turned me on. And if Kat wasn't willing to indulge them with me...

~`~`~`~`~`~

The question remained at the front of my mind after I had showered and returned to Kat's apartment. Sitting at her table, even as she cooked breakfast making idle conversation with me, it was all I could think about.

Every time I opened my mouth, I questioned whether she could smell the shit on my breath. Or, hell, the shit on my skin. I of course used an excessive amount of soap and almost half a bottle of mouthwash, but it was an unmistakable smell that I knew was not easy to cover.

"Sorry, I'm out of food."

"Hm?" I realized that a plate of food had been placed in front of me, Kat having moved from the kitchen to the seat across from mine.

Great, now she was closer. If she could smell shit, I was soon to find out.

"I just said that I'm out of food, so breakfast is a little... meh."

"Oh." I feigned rubbing my eyes, forcing a yawn as I did. "Sorry, I'm still waking up."

She paused, doing her best to subtly study me. She said nothing, however, eventually changing topics after a few seconds of staring. "So, doing anything over the weekend?"

"No, nothing planned. When you're unemployed, every day is a Saturday. Makes the weekend a little less special." I meant it as a joke, and the forced chuckle that came after tried to convey that, but the truth behind it ruined the effect. "You?"

"Well, groceries," Kat's head turned towards the fridge briefly. "Other than that, I don't know. Might get together with some friends, but we're still figuring it out. If we do, you're more than welcome to come."

I was appreciative of the invite, but I couldn't help but question its authenticity.

Did she actually want me there?

It all felt a little... sudden. It didn't matter, though, I already knew my answer. "I, um... no. I've had enough socializing for the weekend. Probably just going to stay in, maybe clean."

It was the truth, this time. Last night was great, as was this morning. But I didn't want to spend the day with Kat, and especially not her friends. Sure, we had been doing stuff together for the last couple of months, and I was trying to get out more, but this didn't seem the time to push our relationship to casual hangouts with her and her friends.

Did that make me a bad person?

"Yeah, no problem. Just thought I'd ask." She took a bite of her breakfast - a piece of toast smeared with blueberry jam. "What are you thinking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Since you came back from your shower, you've been thinking about something. All up in your head." Kat added. "Seconding guessing last night?"

"No. Are you?" The question came out without me thinking and caused my stomach to twist. I didn't want to hear the answer.

"No, of course not." Kat's answer put me at ease, but only briefly. Her follow-up question made sure to eradicate any sense of calm. "So, what's wrong, then?"

I wished in that moment that I was better at hiding my emotions. This hardly seemed the appropriate time to discuss my deep-seated concerns for this relationship and where it was going to go. I should've just stayed in the shower.

"When I was showering, I just had some... thoughts, I guess."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, always what you want to hear after having sex with someone." Her tone indicated sarcasm, but I wasn't sure if she was just masking her honest concerns.

"Nothing... bad. Not like that. I really liked last night, and I really like you. That's part of the problem, to be honest."

"A charmer." Kat lifted her mug into the air, giving a mock 'cheers' before taking a sip. "Seriously, though," she set the mug down, taking my hands in hers in its place. "What's wrong? And don't lie; you're not allowed to."

Her constant eye contact and handholding did not make the uncomfortable situation any easier. Especially not when I remembered I had one of those hands digging for waste in my ass less than an hour prior.

The crux of our issue

I had to remind myself.

"You know about my... fetish?" The reminder made me physically tense. "I guess it's just part of me, and I know most people are grossed out by that stuff. What I'm trying to say is: I don't know if I could be with someone who doesn't like the things I like. So... do you?"

I could tell almost immediately that Kat's reaction was a bad one. The way her shoulders dropped, the look on her face of someone trying to figure out how to put another person down easily.

"I... don't. But I like you," she shrugged. "I'm sorry, I know it's not ideal. I'd be willing to try some stuff for you, but I don't know if I can... do everything. I mean, I don't know the extent of...

the things you like

, but maybe like the basic stuff would be OK."

I'm not going to lie; I saw the answer coming a mile away and it still crushed me. Did it make me a narcissist that I didn't even appreciate her willingness to try? Probably. But the way I felt in the shower, the way I wanted to experience that same euphoria with another woman.

With Kat,

I corrected myself. To think I wouldn't get the chance was a disappointment.

But it wasn't fair to hold it against Kat.

"I understand. It's... a lot.

"But seriously; I'm willing to try stuff. Just, if I don't like it, I'm probably not going to do it again."

"Well, no, obviously not." I narrowed my eyes, slightly confused that she needed to clarify that. "I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do."

Kat frowned, her downward-cast eyes moving left and right as she tried to formulate an explanation. "I know, I just want to make... I want you to be happy. I don't want to be the one stopping you from achieving that."

Without thinking, I stood, crossing the table and sitting sideways on her lap. My arms went under Kat's, my head resting on her shoulder as I held her in the embrace. "You're not stopping me from anything," I whispered in her ear. "Honestly, without you, I don't know where I would be right now. Probably rotting in my apartment."

"Thanks." Her response was soft, so soft that I would second guess that she said anything at all if it weren't for the heat of her mouth on my neck. We stayed like that for what must've been a minute or two before she spoke again.