This is the fourth installment of the Mountain of a Mess series! While it's not necessary to read the other parts to enjoy this one, this part does reference the first three in several places, so reading them may fill in some plot holes.
*****
It was 4:32 in the morning when I was woken up with a start.
"Fuck!" Blake hissed in the darkness as he struggled his way out of bed. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dark room. My head cleared and I remembered the events that transpired a few hours ago, and couldn't help but smile to myself. "Fuck, where's the light switch?!" Blake's voice yelled from the (still dark) bathroom. With a groan, I swung my legs out of bed and felt my way through the darkness with relative ease.
Before I could reach the light switch, the room was filled with the sudden, wet squirting sound of Blake emptying himself. I flipped on the light, finding my husband sitting on the toilet, head leaned back against the cabinet, eyes closed, hands resting on his thighs. "Fuck..." he groaned, rubbing at his eyes as they adjusted to the light. I crossed my arms over my exposed chest and frowned.
"I guess it goes without saying you're not feeling any better."
"I guess not," he groaned, leaning forward and resting on his elbows. I shifted awkwardly. He'd peed while I was getting ready in the bathroom before, but never anything like this. Despite our encounter only a few hours ago, something about it still felt awkward—but in an amusing way.
"I'll get you a Gatorade?" I half offered, half asked.
"Thanks," he looked at me and nodded. I slipped back out into the dark hotel room, rummaging around in our travel cooler for a drink. Only a few hours ago we'd been having wild, dirty, fantasy-fueled sex in the most filthy way imaginable. Now, half-asleep, it felt as if it had all been a dream. I grabbed a Gatorade and stood up, heading back to the bathroom. I reminded myself it was real.
"Anything else I can do for you?" I offered. Blake grinned and bit his lip, looking my body up and down.
"I can think of a few things."
"Oh yeah? Like what?" I smugly crossed my arms across my chest, knowing I was just out of his reach. He took a swig of the Gatorade.
"Get back in bed and I'll show you."
"Why don't you show me right now?" I took a step closer, standing over him.
"Hmm..." Blake hummed, a smile on his face. He ran his hands along my ass and hips, letting them linger before bringing his hand around to the front. He pressed two fingers between my legs, tempting me to stand a little wider and open them. "I don't think I can do much right now."
"That's true," I knelt down, "but I can."
Blake spread his legs involuntarily at the sight of me kneeling in front of him. I ran my hand up the inside of his thigh, stopping to brush my fingers against his semi-erect cock. He shuddered at my touch.
"What do you think you're doing?" Blake asked. I adjusted my position and began stroking at his cock, which was almost entirely hard now from the promise of attention. I pumped him up and down, looking up at him with big, adoring eyes. I leaned forward, taking his cock in my mouth, never breaking the eye contact. Blake cursed under his breath and leaned his head back. I worked my mouth back and forth over his cock in slow, hard motions. He groaned and shifted slightly on the spot.
"You're not going to stop, are you?" he asked, tucking my hair behind my ear. I mumbled back a muffled 'nuh-uh' around his cock. Blake laughed and forced himself forward a bit more, causing me to deepthroat him further. "Well, if you don't stop, you know what's going to happen."
"Uh-huh." I ran my tongue the whole way from his balls to the head of his cock, earning a husky groan. Blake grabbed my hair with one hand and urged me back down on his cock; I obeyed. He moaned and his muscles tensed for a moment as he let out a loud, messy fart, which echoed in the bowl. I sucked harder and he relaxed again. This time, hot, almost entirely liquid diarrhea spilled out of him in a sudden torrent. "Ah fuck..." Blake hissed, stroking my hair and keeping me down on his cock. The smell emanating from beneath him was disgusting—and I loved every moment of it.
He pushed this time, and a series of loud, sputtering farts forced out another bout of diarrhea, hitting the water with several lewd plops. His cock throbbed in my mouth, making it evident he was getting off on this. After a moment more of me going down on him, he nudged my shoulder.
"I'm done," he told me. "Let's get up."
"Okay, if we have to," I murmured, brushing my lips along the swollen head of his cock.
"Don't get me wrong, we're not done yet." He tore off a piece of toilet paper and looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if expecting me to move. "You going to get up?"
"No," I told him simply, resting my cheek against his knee.
"Suit yourself," said Blake, leaning forward so that he could wipe. I grinned as I watched him; there was something so amusingly intimate about this. The water beneath him was filthy and soupy, darkened by his mess. I thought about our fun a few hours and silently wished we could be doing that again. He wiped and noticed me staring.
"You like watching?" Blake asked with a laugh. I nodded in response. He turned the soiled bath tissue towards me, showing me how it was streaked with heavy, sticky smears of his shit. "You like that, don't you?"
"You know it," I purred, sitting up on my knees. He laughed and pulled off a second sheet. This time, he held it out to me.
"You want to do it?" Blake offered.
"Sure!" I felt as if I responded a little too enthusiastically, but I didn't care. I took the paper and slipped my hand between his legs, brushing against his balls as I did so. His cock twitched at the stimulation, still erect. I pressed the paper against his hole lightly, swiping at the sensitive area. Blake couldn't conceal a shudder as I touched him through the thin material. I looked at the paper without removing my hand; it had a bit of shit on it, not too bad. I dropped the paper into the bowl but, again, didn't remove my hand. Blake waited patiently, unaware of what I was doing. I brushed my bare fingers against his asshole, which was still somewhat dirty and sticky with his filth.
"Fuck," he hissed, opening his legs wider. I expected him to try and stop me, but to my surprise, he didn't. I took his cock in my mouth again, keeping my right hand between his cheeks, playing with his entrance. He leaked precum into my mouth and involuntarily jerked his hips against my face as my fingers circled his asshole. I pressed against his tight hole, rubbing at the last sticky streak of shit that had been smeared there and worked around the entrance. I sucked on the head of his cock, which was pulsating as if he was only moments away from squirting into my mouth. Slowly and gently, I managed to slip half of my index finger into his tight asshole. His walls were tight and hot, and the tip of my finger brushed against what felt like another turd. Blake moaned and threw his head back, but finally took me by the shoulders and moved me away.
"Come on, you," he told me, "let's wash our hands and get back in bed. I'm going to have my turn at you." As I stood up, he took my wrist and examined my hand, notably my two fingers that were smudged with his waste. He stood as well, but without releasing my wrist.
"You try that again," he placed his lips against my ear, "I'll put those fingers in your mouth, dirty girl."
I froze at the thought. I never wanted to be one of those fetishists who ended up eating shit—no, that was too much, even for me...gross, unsanitary, just not appealing—but there was something wildly erotic about the thought of him doing that. I pressed my legs together, which he noticed.
"Come on, let's get cleaned up."
--
We washed our hands and raced back to bed, both equal parts horny and exhausted. Blake pulled me on top of him, desperately stroking at my soaking pussy.
"We're both tired. Want to just fuck, sleep, and fuck again when we wake up?" I asked, but couldn't help but grind my hips against his hand as I did so.
"No, I want you on my face. Come on," he was grinning as he tugged on my hips in an attempt to get me to turn around.
"Sixty-nine? Twice in one night?" I teased. He laughed from behind me and eagerly pulled my hips down to his face.
"You'll see."
