Peggy has been tasked with an academic assignment that will take her to Europe for at least a month. She is scheduled to leave in a few days and she asked me if I could stay at her ranch while she is away. Since there are horses to be taken care of I felt that I would be incapable. She laughed and said she has associates that have always taken care of the horses, that would not be a burden on me. She did say that she was so horney for smelling me that she was distracted. When she tells me how passionate she is for shit sex with me I melt into reverie. We have a Kabuki routine in her basement hideaway where we smear each other with our own feces. Gently inserting our longest fingers into our own anus we inhale our ordure and spread it on each other. Our nostrils and philtrum are the primary object as well as our lips.
The lighting in our fecal sanctuary is low and accommodating for me. I love a low blue lighting. Years of my fecal masturbation at home was with low blue lighting it accompanied my total obsession with keeping my love of the smell of shit as my own dark secret.
With only a few days to go before Peggy was going to leave we were eager to satisfy our aroma lust. Peggy and I are both aficionados of Sapphic mythology. To align the stories with our peculiar passions Peggy wrote a version of Athena at Mytilene with scat sex as the playbook. I was being pulled softly on the fecal infused bed. Arms and legs gently gyrating my underarms licked and my vagina massaged by Peggy's nose. My clitoris was engorged by the skillful nasal, tactile play that Peggy was engaged. Practice no doubt was a factor. After disengaging from my contraption I should have smoked a cigarette. But I have never been a cigarette smoker. Instead I glanced back and reflected that getting drawn and quartered on this sensual bed was a delight.
The balance of the evening was passed by interesting conversation concerning the upcoming trip to Europe where Peggy would be chairing an academic conference and lecturing in Berlin, Vienna and Budapest. She is fluent in German but would be conducting all of her seminars in English. That is ditto for Budapest as she is totally unfamiliar with the Magyar tongue. Peggy inserted an intriguing comment about the cultures that she was about to rub shoulders with. She had a great deal of knowledge concerning lesbian coprophilia in these countries. In the post World War One era Berlin was a hotbed for aberrant sexual behavior. Among the most aberrant and hidden group was coprophilia addicts. While the most prominent practitioners were male homosexuals, there was a sub group of lesbian practitioners. With the advent of National Socialism these groups either went deep underground or curtailed their activities. After the War they reemerged but to this day remain very, very discrete. Budapest also has a hidden lesbian coprophilia community.
This history lesson peaked my curiosity. I inquired about Peggy's access to this exciting group. She was so coy in her reply that time would tell whether anything would come of this knowledge. She needed to be circumspect in foreign lands.
She would be leaving in a couple of days and had a lot to do as she would be away for several weeks. That evening we watched old black and white movies and munched on salad, cheese and crackers. We still entertained ourselves by taking each others temperature. My aroma was lacking the pungent meat and potatoes scat that Peggy likes so much. Her scent was, as usual, very potent.
