I was thrilled when my roommate Amy told me on a Tuesday that she would be spending that weekend with her boyfriend. This meant I would have the apartment to myself, and would be able to engage in an activity I had often reveled in at home in private but hadn't yet been able to indulge in here: a solo scat session. It had been a few weeks since I'd been able to carry out a scat session at home while alone, and I was beginning to miss it badly. The cravings I get for this fetish, the need to spread and smear myself with shit, to smell and taste it, can be overwhelming at times. I had even thought of going to a motel one night and probably would have if this opportunity didn't arise. Amy and I had known each other for about six months and been living together about half that time. We were the same age (24), had similar jobs and interests, were open with each other about our private lives (we were both bisexual), and so far enjoyed our arrangement.
Once I knew I would be alone for the weekend, I began to prepare myself for my self-indulgent treat. I would pay attention to my diet over the next few days, making sure I ate plenty of leafy greens and fiber-rich foods. As the weekend drew closer I would ignore the usual bowel urges I felt and then take a few of my favorite gentle laxatives. Finally, on the day in question, when I knew I would not be disturbed and could give into my fetish desires completely, I would kneel in the bathtub or lie on my bed and begin my routine. I would defecate, of course, and hopefully, because of the preparation, I would produce a huge amount, the more the better, thus the greater the thrill and excitement. I would finger my asshole, stimulating myself to shit even more, until I was totally empty. When I was sure I had no more to give, I would pick up my deposit, fondle it, and hold it up to my nose to smell deeply, loving the aroma. Lastly, and this was the most enjoyable and enthralling part, I would slowly spread it all over my body until I was nearly totally covered, producing wave after wave of erotic stimulation. With my fingers or a dildo, I would bring myself to a powerful orgasm, probably even more than one.
***
I had discovered this pleasure when I was 19 years old. I was a sophomore in college at the time and home for summer recess. Both my parents worked and I spent much of my time alone at home. We lived in a typical urban/suburban neighborhood, similar-type houses built on 150x150-foot plots, not "made of ticky-tacky," as the Malvina Reynolds folksong had it, but certainly "all the same."
To pull my weight and help lighten the work load, despite the part-time job I had, I volunteered to take care of all the outdoor chores, caring for our garden and flower beds, mowing the lawn, and maintaining the four-foot deep above-ground swimming pool we had. I frequently, and then always, gardened in my bare feet and became aware of the sensations I felt deep inside of me as my feet became dirtier and dirtier from the soft clayish soil. I would spend hours, much more time than actually necessary, weeding and pitchforking the soil to make it soft, then water it profusely creating deep mud into which I would plunge my feet. I would begin to breathe heavily and then crouch down to hide my next actions, which were to discretely touch myself through my clothes (usually a pair of cutoffs). Sometimes when I was feeling particularly horny I would wear a short skirt instead of cutoffs without panties so I could easily touch my bare vagina and finger myself, my feet buried in the black mud. When the urges became overbearing, I would wash my feet off, go in the house to my room, strip naked, and masturbate on my bed, coming over and over again. Whatever I decided to do, the pleasure was immense.
We had a four-foot deep, above-ground swimming pool that was wedged into our hedge-lined backyard. My father used the pool to help relieve back pain after a traffic accident; my mother went in only to keep him company, and I used it only occasionally, though more this summer than ever before. Between the back of the pool and a thick row of forsythia hedges, a bare earth spot, about 4 feet by 2 feet, had formed. This area was much more concealed than the flower and garden beds, but not totally hidden. I cultivated this spot, usually simply by splashing water out of the pool onto it, turning it into a squishy mud puddle, and would then jump from the pool into it. I loved to smoosh my feet around in it, feeling it ooze between my toes. I had a pail hidden nearby that I used to wash the mud off before getting back in the pool. Once, feeling almost wild with horniness, I lowered my bathing suit bottoms and sat in the mud, my brain and loins both doing somersaults with the sensation I was feeling and the thought I could be discovered at any moment by prying neighbors. I never felt so alive before in my life.
A week or so after this, knowing I'd be alone as usual, I decided to do something more daring and a bigger turn-on. I got into my bathing suit and went into the backyard. Using a pitchfork, I loosened the dirt in my mud patch behind the pool and inundated it with water. I then swam around in the pool for a bit, mulling over exactly what I wanted to do, getting more excited by the minute. When I'd got myself into a fever pitch, I jumped over the side of the pool into the mud. I sank into it above my ankles. I then removed both top and bottom of my swim suit and stretched out completely naked on my stomach in the mud. The soft, cool, creamy mud engulfed my tits and pussy, and I squirmed around in it, quietly moaning. I soon turned over on my back and gazed at my mud-covered torso and felt overwhelmed with lust. I touched my breasts and spread the ooze all over them, almost screaming out with pleasure. My filthy hands moved across my belly to my pussy, my fingers rubbing my labia. With one hand caressing my tits with mud and the other rubbing my pussy, it wasn't long before I climaxed.
As my body slowly recovered, I continued to lay in the mud, touching my tits and belly. I felt filthy yet incredibly exhilarated, capable of anything right then. I didn't want to leave my mud puddle, ever! That's how much I craved and enjoyed what I was experiencing. A daringness overwhelmed me, and when I finally sat up, I took the pail and used it to wash the mud off my body. It took quite a few pails full, but I didn't mind. When I was basically clean, I took my bathing suit and threw it in the pool and climbed over the side naked into the water. Neighbors might be able to glimpse me, if they looked hard enough, but I didn't care. Being naked in the pool made me feel free and above everything, no restrictions for me! After about 15 minutes of cavorting and showing off to myself (my imagination was soaring, though), I put my bathing suit back on, dried off, and went into the house. I immediately removed the swim suit again and walked around the empty house as if I owned it, naked. I felt so fearless and overpowering, so sexy and hot.