From Under The Spotlights

I was told there would be three new hires that week, which I was greatly looking forward to since it would make the work load much more tolerable. That was when I first met Hilda, who happened to be one of the new hires. She was not right out of college, like the other two newcomers, but had a few years' experience with a rival company in a neighboring city. She would be working in an office next to mine, and I was asked to help her settle in, familiarize her with the routines. This, I determined almost immediately, would be a pleasant task because she exuded confidence, seemed smart, was already familiar with the most important procedures having previous experience, and was quite beautiful to boot. And single, a fact as significant as her beauty. Because of those last two qualities, I knew it wouldn't be long before she became the center of attention to other men at work, and I had better not procrastinate too long if I was going to show any kind of personal interest in her.

I tried to be helpful without being obtrusive, and on the third day asked her if she would like to have lunch with me. She said "Yes," and without much hesitation, which I took to be a good sign. At lunch at a small café a few blocks away, we forgot about work and talked mainly about ourselves, something she thankfully was comfortable doing. I noticed she had a slight accent, and when I pointed it out, she said she'd been born in Germany and moved to the US when she was eight, spoke German fluently and was fairly fluent in French as well. I learned she shared an apartment with another woman, and had had a boyfriend not too long ago who was now out of the picture.

I told her I was single and not seeing anyone exclusively, either, "playing the field," I mentioned jokingly, which made her laugh.

"Whenever I hear that phrase I think of a horse gambler," she said. "Are you?"

"No," I smiled, and told her I had been to a race track maybe twice in my life and really didn't care much for gambling. She said she once spent a whole week at Saratoga during the racing season, bet on several races every day, though she had been there for reasons other than seeing the horses run. She didn't elaborate, but my mind concluded she had been there with a guy, maybe even more than one, and, if that were the case, even if they lost their shirts at the track, they were still very lucky guys, indeed.

Just before we had to leave to get back to the office, I asked her if she'd have dinner with me the following evening, a Friday, maybe go to a movie afterwards. She said she couldn't then, but she was free on Saturday, if that worked for me. Another pleasant surprise: she didn't just blow me off, but seemed to want to see me as well. Saturday would be fine, and we worked out the details.

Our date that Saturday night was fantastic. I took her to the nicest restaurant I knew, and a movie, some God-awful thing that I haven't totally forgotten yet only because halfway through it Hilda took my arm, pulled herself close to me, whispered, "Pretty bad, huh?" and kissed me on the cheek. I immediately turned and kissed her on the lips. I can recall some pretty memorable first kisses in my life, and that one was right up there with the best. After kissing like that for several minutes, I suggested we leave and she said, "Yes, please."

Outside I began scrolling through my memory bank of places we could go to next, a club, maybe, but after I suggested one or two places she asked if we could just go back to my place. We could have some wine and talk; she liked talking with me, in fact, liked being with me, and didn't want to lose all that under the din of some raucous club. All of this was perfectly fine by me, and that's exactly what we did.

I drove us back to my condo, opened a bottle of wine, and then we spent the next two hours talking about everything under the sun. I told her some of the juicier bits of gossip about a few of our colleagues, who to look out for; she told me some stories about her last job and about some of her family who were still in Germany. She went to use the bathroom and when she returned, she sat down in my lap and we started kissing again. I touched her breasts through her dress and suggested we go to the bedroom. She stood up and I took her hand to lead the way.

My God, she was gorgeous and sexy and uninhibited, the super trifecta on any man's sexual racing card. When we reached the bed, she dropped my hand and turned around so I could unzip her dress. I got the zipper down maybe six inches when she reached for it herself, sliding it down much more quickly than I was doing it and stepped out of the garment. She removed her bra and panties with similar haste and was crawling onto the bed before I could even unbutton my shirt. She knelt on the bed and undid my belt, pulling my trousers down to my knees. I finally got my shirt off and could feel her stroking my cock through my boxers before yanking them down as well; I was already so hard I could feel my cock slap against my lower belly after getting caught on the elastic waistband.

"Beautiful," Hilda sighed, taking it in her hand and licking it along the shaft before putting the head in her mouth. This created the welcomed dilemma no guy is sorry to face: should I stand still and let her suck me more or interrupt her and remove my trousers and shoes? I decided to let her suck me more and was treated to a magnificent blow job, her tongue circling the head before her mouth plunged all the way down the shaft until her lips were against my belly. I'm no world record-holder for longest cock, just average, maybe seven inches on a good day, and this was a very good day, so it was thrilling to see and feel her swallow all of me like that and not gag. This continued for several minutes when she finally slipped me from her mouth and moved more toward the center of the bed.

She looked at me and smiled and said, "Well, hurry up and take those off, or do you have a train to catch and plan to keep them on?" I laughed harder than her remark warranted because I had almost said the same exact thing to her about having to catch a train when she was so quickly removing her clothes, but thought the joke would be terrible and off-setting. But not Hilda! And it made me appreciate her ten-fold, her fearlessness and wit. Finally I was naked and joined her on the bed.

She welcomed everything I did to her; no matter where on her body I touched or kissed her, whatever parts my fingers or lips explored, she wanted more. Sexually, I am a very oral person, love long sloppy kisses with my tongue plowing into another's hungry mouth, love using my tongue and lips on every part of another woman's body, from toes to ears, especially, of course, those parts on the body's midsection: ass and pussy and tits. Hilda opened her body to me, every inch of it, like a navigation chart to a sea captain, all of it exposed plainly for my perusal and edification and enjoyment. She had a small tuft of light chocolatey colored hair on her mons that was delectable, and when I sucked it, drenching it, and pulled on it with my lips and teeth, she yanked on it herself with her thumb and index finger, while her middle finger plunged inside her pussy. When my mouth finally made it to her pussy, it was dripping with her juices that I lapped up like a thirsty desert traveler.

She opened her legs wide as I ate her pussy, combing her finger through my hair and pushing my head lower. I took a chance and swiped at her anus with my tongue, never expecting to lick a girl's asshole on the first date. But she liked that I was doing that to her, and made no attempt to lift my head away from her there. So for several seconds I continued to lick her asshole, all around the rubbery sphincter, and even inside of it, before withdrawing, not wanting to overstay my welcome there.

Both of us were getting very eager to fuck now, and I moved my body between her legs until I was on top of her and my cock slid into her pussy. She was so wet, and it felt incredible to be pumping in and out of her. She alternated her legs about me, sometimes gripping my hips with her knees, sometimes flattening her legs sideways on the bed like a bird taking wing, sometimes wrapping them completely around my waist. She began to moan and highlighted each of my thrusts with a sighed 'Yes,' as her breathing became more rapid and labored. She cried, "I'm coming, I'm coming!" and she held her breath and pulled my body tight into hers, and her pussy spasmed as her climax hit. A few seconds later I felt myself begin to spurt and fill her cunt with my cum.

I remained inside of her for a while before she rolled me onto my side; we both tried to keep me inside her, but I slipped out despite the effort.

"Whoops," I said, smiling.

"That's okay," Hilda replied quickly. "I'll just have to think of some clever way to get you hard again soon so I can get you back up in there."

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble doing that," I assured her. And she didn't, not with what she was capable and willing to do with her hands and tongue.

It was while resting between the third or fourth time fucking, my head perched on her ass, that I looked more carefully at the tattoo she had on the small of her back just above her ass, the outstretched wings of a bird; it was handsomely engraved and fit her well. I planted a soft kiss on it before moving my body up over hers to again hug her and be swallowed in her embrace. It was after 10 a.m. Sunday morning before she had showered, dressed, and left, and that was the first of several sublime times spent together in bed over the ensuing weeks.

Part 2

Now, I've reached the point in this story where I must reveal something about myself that I've kept secret, and that is I consider myself a devoted fanatic of the scat fetish. I am one of those very few people in the world who finds it utterly ravishing sexually to have parts of my body smothered in shit while at the same time depositing and spreading it over the body of a similarly inclined lover, head to toe, as we make exquisite love to each other. The smell of it, the texture of it, even the taste of it... all of this I crave and all of it gives me tremendous satisfaction.

Unfortunately, opportunities to indulge in this fetish with others have been rare. I have reached out on the internet expressing the wish to contact others (females; I have no sexual interest in other men) but only with limited success. I have a small group of friends, all males unfortunately, who are also scat devotees, and when anyone hears of something, anything, having to do with it that may be of interest, will contact the others.

It just so happened that around this time I got a text message that a scat performance would take place at a private party about an hour away, and I could finagle an invitation if I acted fast. The performers, the text stated, were three women who had worked together before, but had never appeared in that area, and had a reputation for the intensity and exuberance they demonstrated. I knew immediately I wanted to attend and did what I had to do to get myself invited. It promised to be a worthy performance, at least as good as most of the other top-notch ones I'd been to.

I arrived at the venue, a large manor house out in the country, at the appropriate time and saw there were about 30 people there, mostly men, but a few women as well, accompanying some of the men. Some of the people I recognized from previous events, but not many. All were decently dressed, as if attending a special party. We assembled in a rather large room, in the center of which was an inflatable swimming pool, about twelve feet long by eight feet wide and a foot deep, a perfect size for three adults to cavort in and keep the mess confined. Around the perimeter of the pool on all four sides, several feet back, was a double row of comfortable padded folding armchairs for the audience. Only so many chairs would fit and that determined the number of attendees. The performance was expected to last about ninety minutes, and each person had paid $250 for the privilege of attending.

When everyone was seated, the lights were dimmed very low as in a theater, except over the pool, which was suddenly highlighted by two bright spotlights. Background music could be heard filtering into the room, rhythmical and pulsating, setting the perfect mood while being unobtrusive. Then from behind a portable curtain that had been set up, the three women appeared and stepped into the pool. My eyes snapped wide open in amazed disbelief, because one of the women was Hilda. I wondered if she would be able to detect my presence, but realized the bright spotlights made it impossible for them to see into the audience. Two of the women were totally naked, including Hilda, while the third wore a pair of black thigh-high stockings. For the next minute I focused almost exclusively on Hilda, sometimes telling myself I must be making a mistake, she just

looks

like Hilda, but then I recognized her tattoo and I knew for sure it was her. Then the shock of recognition turned into sheer wonderment: Hilda was a scat queen, a dream-come-true for me, and with that personal knowledge, I would relish every second of what I was about to witness.

And what I witnessed was astonishing and enthralling. They began by hugging one another and kissing. It was obvious from the beginning that the three women knew each other very well, were not just assuming roles; they weren't acting like lovers, but

were

lovers. After several minutes of foreplay, Hilda stood up and motioned for the others to remain where they were, and she started peeing on them. They spread their bodies open so her pee would drench every inch of them, and then another woman took her place. (She had light-brown hair as opposed to Hilda's blonde mane; the third girl, who wore the stockings, had raven-black locks. All wore their hair roughly top-of-the-shoulder-length and layered.). They were all sopping wet now, head to toe, and pools of piss occupied parts of the bottom of the pool.

They all embraced again, licking their piss off each other, until the stockinged girl (let me call her SG) rose and walked around them a few times. She pointed and smiled at the brown-haired girl (I'll call her BHG), who quickly got on her back, and SG squatted over her tits and a long, twisting turd began to flow out of her ass onto BHG's tits, almost covering them. BHG moaned in ecstasy and began to spread the shit all over her breasts, helped soon by Hilda. The women were talking and laughing with each other, seemingly oblivious to us watching them, and it created a very intimate atmosphere. It felt like we were in their bedroom, invisible voyeurs, watching them having sex with each other.

Although everything that was unfolding before my eyes was of the utmost interest to me, obviously it was Hilda I was sure to concentrate on. What exactly would she do? How far would she go? How did she compare with the others? Wilder? Did she do all the things I would love for her to do with me?

As she helped BHG spread the shit all over her tits and torso, Hilda rubbed her filthy hands on her own breasts, kneeling up straight so we all could see. Her hands bathed her tits in shit and moved up to her neck and onto her face, turning everything she touched dark brown. My cock immediately became erect, and I could feel myself breathing harder. I've stroked those tits, sucked them lovingly, I thought; how I wished I could suck them right now all smeared in shit!

SG knelt between BHG's legs and licked her pussy. She spread some of her pile from BHG's tits down to her pussy and spread it around there and between her legs. When she had covered her pussy in shit, SG put her face into it and licked BHG hard, opening her pussy and sticking her tongue inside. She then said something to Hilda and turned around so her head rested on BHG's spread pussy like a pillow. Hilda stood and walked back in order to position her ass over SG's face. She bent down slightly and she shit in SG's open mouth, three hefty soft logs, the first two piling up in and on SG's mouth, the third bouncing off onto her face. They looked so delicious, so mesmerizing, I had to force myself not to moan out loud, though some in the audience were doing just that. You lucky bitch, SG, I thought, you lucky, lucky bitch to be feasting on such lovely logs! Would that be me someday, hopefully someday soon?

When Hilda had finished defecating, BHG sat up and picked up one of the turds from SG's mouth and smelled it deeply, smiling. She then, with a bit of dramatic flair, put it in her mouth and sucked it like a cock, holding her head up high so we all could see. Observing this I thought my own cock would burst and tried to imagine what that log tasted like, how rapturously BHG was sucking on it, its juices beginning to dribble from her lips. Hilda retrieved the other log from SG's mouth and kneeling at her pussy, placed it there, where Hilda swiped it from one end to the other with her tongue. Hilda commenced licking all around SG's pussy and then took another long tongue-swipe of her own turd. After doing this several times she simply picked up the log with her lips and commenced caressing SG's pussy with it, smearing it all around her pussy lips with her face and tongue. It was beautiful and so amazingly sexy, and as other men in the audience had already done, I unzipped my fly, got a tissue from my pocket, placed there in anticipation of a moment like this, put the tissue over the tip of my cock, and ejaculated into it without any further stimulation. I blasted four or five mighty spurts into the tissue, not caring a whit if anyone witnessed it.

Two of the women had now relieved themselves, and all three of them were heavily smeared in shit. All of their time in the pool was spent caressing and massaging one another, including licking and sucking everywhere. They were consumed with what they were doing, enjoying every second of it. They couldn't seem to get enough of each other, the touch of their filthy bodies, the feel of their shit-laced skin rubbing across each other.

Still they managed to create unexpected surprises. Once Hilda was rubbing SG's pussy with her toes when SG grabbed her foot and wiped it with a handful of poop and put it in her mouth. Hilda grinned ecstatically as SG sucked her toes, putting half her foot in her mouth at one point and then licking her sole. Shortly after this Hilda and SG knelt next to each other, legs wide apart, assholes fully exposed, and BHG lovingly smeared globs of shit across their asses and into their cracks and buried her tongue into their assholes. Their attachment to this fetish was profound, and more seemed never to be enough.

It was right after this that Hilda and SG lay down on their sides facing each other and began to kiss. BHG stood and walked in front of them, straddled their faces, and crouched down over them. She was about to make her contribution. They stopped kissing but opened their mouths so they could catch BHG's shit together when it came, which was within a few seconds. BHG moved her ass left-to-right slightly as she began to poop and the large turd she produced fell into both their mouths sideways. When their mouths were full, they resumed kissing again, much more passionately and fervently than before and mushed the log into their mouths and faces. BHG turned around and helped spread the excess into their hair and on her own face.

I've read that at the opera it's not unprecedented that after a particularly well-sung aria the audience might acknowledge their appreciation by clapping and cheering, totally stopping the proceedings on stage, sometimes for several minutes, maybe even demanding the aria be repeated. Well, none of that was going to happen here, but there were other ways to indicate how exciting the performance was, and not just by secretly ejaculating into one's handkerchief or a tissue. Just barely in the shadows right after this I saw a man suddenly stand up, turn to the stunning woman he was with, insert his cock into her willing mouth, and come, spurting his jism a number of times onto her tongue and across her lips before she sucked him clean, after which he sat down again. It was a beautiful sight, and it was pleasant to imagine what they would be doing to each other later that evening, inspired by this performance.