Gunther exited the men's room at the far end of the second level of the mall and sat on a nearby bench, waiting for his wife Wilma to emerge from the ladies' room. An hour or so earlier, before they left home, both had put on an adult diaper, and they were just then checking them to make sure they were "ready for action." They were prepping to engage in a favorite activity of theirs, one that gave them intense satisfaction and heightened sexual arousal. Their plan was simple: they would stroll around the mall like so many other shoppers there that Friday early-evening, and at some appropriate moment yet to be decided, would pause briefly and with their imaginations spiraling, their excitement soaring, defecate in their diapers. Both hoped the amount of excrement they released would be huge, the more the better, and further desired that it be soft and creamy and spread profusely across their ass cheeks, thereby creating the most exquisite feeling. They would then continue mingling with the crowd, stopping at this store and that, their thoughts and emotions focused totally on the shit that filled their diapers, the deliciousness it afforded them. They would be ever conscious of the smell: was there any? how much? were other shoppers noticing it? Sometimes in the past when they'd done this their smell drew special notice, even drawing comments from people ("Do you smell that?" "Phew, that smells awful; was that you, Frank? Ha-ha!" "Must be having a plumbing issue somewhere"). This always intensified the thrill and pleasure for them, the added risk of detection ever so enticing. Hopefully that would be the case this time as well.
***
Gunther and Wilma were a scat-loving couple, long involved in the practice of this most intimate of fetishes (to them). Early on in their relationship, as their special cravings were being revealed to each other, Wilma let it be known that pooping in her panties was one of her favorite things to do. She just loved the stimulation and daringness of the act, she told Gunther, combined with the sublime feeling of her feces oozing across her bottom in her panties, and that she had done it on occasion throughout college, sometimes with another girl.
There was one time in particular that stood out for her that expanded into something more than just pooping in her panties, a summer week that she and her college friend (and lover at the time) Fay spent at the shore with Fay's family. The beach they went to was private and often hardly occupied. Wilma, wearing a bikini bathing suit always, would go into the ocean at a secluded spot up to her knees with Fay nearby, and do a little dance, sometimes pulling her bottoms down and wiggling her bare ass and pussy at Fay, both girls laughing and getting very horny. Soon, after double-checking her surroundings for prying eyes, Wilma would start pissing a long stream into the water, causing further laughter and a feeling of wild abandon. And then she would pull her bikini bottoms back up again and bend over slightly, and shit in them. She would put her hands on her ass to spread the shit over her skin through the swimsuit fabric before it spilled out the sides into the water. This immediately increased her breathing rate and produced marvelous sensations in her pussy and loins that often resulted in an orgasm. Fay was astonished at first to see Wilma do this, but became more intrigued in time.
Knowing she merely had to plop her ass in the water and do a little maintenance with her hand and she'd be clean (at least presentable), Wilma became very brazen, smearing her shit over more and more of her body before making the plunge. Soon Fay was so tantalized by Wilma's actions she started joining in on all of them. Some deep desire exploded in both of them, and the need to engage in filthy acts involving piss and poop overwhelmed them. Now they would expose their breasts and touch each other as they danced around, and instead of just peeing in the water would pee on each other. Finally they were both shitting their bikini bottoms, spreading their deposits over their skin, sometimes all the way up to their breasts. Near the end of the week, with their inhibitions almost totally gone, they would bend down in front of each other while the other peed in their mouth, and then help each other rub their shit all over one another after they had defecated. The thrill they both felt was barely containable. On their last day together, a cloudy one with hardly any beach-goers present, they threw caution to the wind completely and rigged up some blankets to shield themselves, and after shitting in their bikinis, removed them entirely and spread each other face to pussy in their creamy brown poop, kissing and hugging each other, licking and fingering one another to one climax after another.
***
When Gunther and Wilma started living together, her "panty poop runs," as Gunther began calling them, became an exciting preliminary event to their lovemaking. She would call him at work and tell him something like, "You know, honey, I see Macy's is having a big sale which I thought I'd check out later; want to come with me when you get home?" He knew this could only mean she was planning to do something mischievous and exciting. When he got home she would be wearing a tight pair of jeans with pantyhose and they would head off on their "run." They would look all around the store, maybe even purchase a few things on sale, and just as they were leaving, she would have an "accident" in her panties. Depending on how bold she felt at the moment, she might choose a spot near a crowded aisle or next to a busy counter to do the deed, totally engrossed in the thrill of feeling her panties fill with shit. Her heart would race as her mind fluctuated between the exquisite feeling and the danger she created for herself. A few times in the past she had felt very daring and instead of leaving would turn around and head back into the store. This often was determined by the consistency of her feces: if it was firm, she felt confident it wouldn't begin running down her legs onto the floor so would take the risk of enjoying her little game longer.
One of the best times doing this was when they were in a Target and she tried to poop her panties but only a little bit emerged. Determined not to be denied her pleasure, she purchased a small bottle of grapefruit juice and a bag of chewable laxatives and asked Gunther to take her to the movies nearby, she didn't care what was playing. The juice and the laxatives worked like a charm and a half-hour after sitting down in the theater, using a plastic bag Gunther had brought in from the car to protect the seat, she released a tremendous load of shit in her panties that astonished even her. It was loose but not runny and felt marvelous against her ass. For several minutes she sat rocking back and forth, squishing the poop into her skin, her eyes closed in ecstasy. She could feel it spread all across her ass and leak out onto the back of her thighs. She wished she could put her hands in it and smear it over her ass and onto her pussy. When the smell became unmistakable and began overspreading the theater, they made their getaway. Fortunately, she had a long jacket with her that covered her bottom, because the stain on the rear of her slacks was plain to see. Even like this she insisted on taking one quick stroll to the other end of the rather large theater lobby and back before leaving, thrilled by the conspicuous odor she left in her wake that was beginning to attract attention. Escapades such as these were enthralling and risky and led to magnificent (and very messy) love-making sessions when they got home.
As time went on and their love for scatting increased, Gunther wanted to join her in the fun with both of them pooping in public. The first couple of times they did it together, Gunther wore briefs, but it was difficult restraining his loads in them and leakage was a problem that almost got them "caught out" at a carnival. It wasn't that leakage was to be avoided at all costs, feeling the shit spread far and wide was a major part of the pleasure, but Wilma had the advantage of pantyhose and very tight-fitting jeans to keep things in check, and Gunther didn't. Once he tried wearing pantyhose over his briefs, but didn't like the feel of them. So he decided to use adult diapers, which did the trick. Sometimes Wilma switched and used a diaper as well to keep him company, but much preferred wearing her panties. The one advantage of using diapers was the added security they afforded, allowing them to choose much more crowded public places to frequent and spend longer periods there being dirty. There was still the danger of detection, but the thrill of feeling their shit spread across their asses as they walked around a crowded public space or sat in the vicinity of several other people for as long as possible was just too enticing and delightful.
***
As he sat on the bench waiting for his wife to join him, Gunther looked down at the camo pants he had on over the diaper and the U.S. Marines T-shirt he was also wearing. Psychologically, he enjoyed portraying himself as this macho-man in the camo pants and military T-shirt that everyone could see while only he (and Wilma, of course) knew what was underneath, and how he would be filling it with his shit soon like a tiny helpless infant. He liked the contrast and catered to it somewhat in his mind, but also realized there was something false about it: for deep down he knew there was nothing infantile about any of this. In fact, shitting in his diaper only infused him with a feeling of tremendous power, albeit purely sexual. Wilma had said the same thing, basically, acknowledging the feeling of power that overcame her during these pooping adventures, which she enhanced by wearing her sexiest panties, blouses, and jeans or slacks. The excitement, the rush these escapades produced was all in the "dare game" they played with the public: can you guess our dirty little secret as it pleasures us beyond belief? The goal was to keep pushing the boundary without crossing it and getting caught. So far, so good.
After a few minutes of waiting Wilma joined him on the bench. Both were in their mid-forties, though Wilma, who had brown eyes and medium-blonde hair, looked younger, thanks to a beautiful hourglass figure. She wore a rose-colored open-neck blouse and dark-blue hip-hugging jeans.
"Everything good?" he asked her, taking her hand.
"Yeah, fine," she answered, "all diapered up, though you know I'd much rather do this in my panties, the silkier the better."
