Joanne's Scent
by Callipygia

Natalie guessed that it was just that she was so young when it happened. She found it very hard to accept. Of course, part of the problem was that Quinlan was also very young. Looking back on it, she realized there was no way at that time that he could adequately tell her why he wanted what he wanted anyway, and to her it was just too strange, bizarre. She didn't even think of it as "kinky", because that framed the whole thing in a sexual context that she couldn't even get to...

"You want to what?" she remembered asking him. Her panties were down around her ankles, along with her jeans. They were in the back seat of his Dad's '80 Cutlass Supreme. It was so clich?, making out and having sex in the boyfriend's parent's car. But what he had asked to do sure wasn't cliche.

It was funny the little details your mind will pick out to store for instant retrieval. She remembered The Who's "Who Are You?" playing on the car's chintzy little stereo speakers. She remembered whispering conversations with him whenever they were in that back seat, as if they could be heard if they spoke in full voice. If you were in the front of the car, fully clothed, you used normal voice, even if you were talking about things you didn't want anyone else to hear, or were doing things you didn't want your parents to catch you doing, like toking doobies, like they had earlier that night. Yet for some reason, she always whispered when they were in the back of that damn car, which was pretty often. Maybe it was because, whenever they went back there, the nervous tension of sex seemed to shut down any conversation they might have, and so any speech seemed unnaturally harsh and obtrusive. So you didn't speak unless you really had to, and when you did, you whispered.

So, it was in a whisper so quiet she almost couldn't hear him repeat, "I want to sniff your...mmmphmmph". In typical paradox, he had said it even quieter the second time, and the word she thought she didn't hear the first time, she definitely didn't hear the second.

Which brought her to the other curious detail that always stuck out in her mind when she thought back to that night in the back of her boyfriend's daddy's car. She could feel every syllable of his breath play first hot and instantly cold over the exposed and saliva-wet folds of her pussy lips. She remembered the sensation as almost painfully erotic, and often concentrated on that sensation during masturbatory fantasy later in life. No doubt the wetness that made her so sensitive to the most trivial change in air currents caused by his breath was more than just his saliva.

The Who, whispering and wetness. It was curious what you remember.

She was intrigued by what she thought she heard him say, and a little curious as to what that might feel like. She thought that the idea was fantastically kinky in a real good way. Made her feel kind of nasty and dirty, having a guy sniff her pussy, especially when she was so aroused. But if you thought about it, he was already tasting it, and doubtlessly smelling it, so a sniff really wasn't that outrageous a request. She was contemplating all of that, letting the delicious silence hold the moment in suspended animation, when Quinlan broke her temporary musings by explaining himself further in a manner she wasn't expecting.

She felt something press into the top of her wet slit, right up against her clit, making her yelp in a quick breath. She was expecting the familiar feel of his tongue, but it took a moment to realize it was in fact his nose. She stiffened briefly, waiting to feel the sudden coolness of his inhalation, but it didn't come. She felt him begin to nuzzle her, which made her clit stiffen quite nicely against him. But still no cooling intake of air. Why was he holding his breath?

Then she felt his nose drop down deeper into her lips, and then further down until his whole face seemed to be engulfed in her pussy. God it felt good! He was absolutely driving her crazy. Too bad the whole thing was going to be ruined in less than two minutes.

He began to tilt his head forward, so that his forehead began to press against her pudenda. Her distended clitoris would respond to almost any stimulus at that point and so she began moving her hips subtly, in a gentle rotating motion. She could feel his hairline begin to press against her clit, which was the only part of her body she could seem to feel at that moment, and she couldn't believe it but she thought she might come ? something she had never done before, at least not with another person. She was so focused on the sensation that she was generating for herself on his forehead, that she almost didn't notice that his nose had just about come out of her pussy on the south end and was sliding further down.

But then the feeling of his hot, wet nose against her asshole jolted her out of her masturbatory concentration, and just as she began to wonder what the hell he was doing she felt it. A long protracted wet coolness, no coldness, on her asshole. Her asshole! The sensation was almost like a reverse fart. Her immediate reaction was why? Why the fuck would he want to do something like that?? It wasn't so much gross or disgusting ? not immediately at least ? as it was just confusing. Bizarre, strange, weird! What the fuck was he doing??

She immediately stiffened up, lifted her butt off of the seat of the car, clenched her cheeks together, and started closing her legs, forcing his face and especially his nose far away from her and especially her butt. He pulled back as if stung by a bee, and she rolled away from him, then clamored to turn around so that she would be facing him again. As if from instinct, she put her hands over her pubic area as if to shield herself from the staring gaze of a stranger.

She scrambled to pull her pants up and then climb back into the passenger seat of the car. A moment passed and then he awkwardly fell into the driver's seat. She saw in her periphery that he had opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and then his mouth closed. "I think you should just take me home," she said quietly. It was in full voice.

She wasn't mad at him exactly so much as she was just, well, weirded out to use a phrase from the time. So much so that she didn't talk to him through the entire weekend, even though he must have called a half dozen times. Her mom knew better somehow than to ask her more than once what was wrong after being asked to lie about Natalie's presence in the house.

By the end of the weekend though, her shock and bewilderment began to subside, and although she couldn't understand it, she decided, maybe she could just forget it, and they could just go on. She really liked Quinlan. He was a good looking guy and a lot of girls seemed to be after him. They had been dating for 4 months now, which was a really long time for her. He was only her 3rd boyfriend, and the first one she had done anything more than kissing with. She hadn't gone all the way with him yet, or anyone else for that matter, but she thought maybe he would be the one. Most of her friends had boyfriends, and having one was something of a status symbol as well.

So when she saw him at school on Monday, she decided to act as though nothing had happened. A typical almost 17 year old's solution to boy trouble. The problem was that it was tough letting Quinlan in on the strategy without coming right out and explaining it to him, which sort of defeated the purpose, and he was way too absorbed in his own shame to pick up on any of the clues she might drop him.

"I'm sorry about Friday night," he said.

"Don't worry about it," she responded as they walked down the hall to class.

"No really. I didn't mean to freak you out. I just wanted... I don't know."

"Really, don't sweat it. It's no big deal."

"I really didn't want to upset you. I didn't think you'd ever talk to me again."

"Don't be ridiculous, Quin, you just caught me by surprise. Let's just forget about it. I'm not even thinking about it."

They went back and forth like this for what seemed like forever, but he just wasn't going along. Finally she was saved by the bell, and they separated to go to class.

Normally, their schedules didn't afford them much contact on Mondays and on this Monday that seemed like a relief to her. She just wanted to drop this subject, and for good. She knew if she hung around just a little longer than she should in the cafeteria after her lunch session, she would catch him for a minute or two. She'd made a point of doing just that earlier in the school year to meet him. But today she actually left early, and so she didn't see him at all until the end of the school day.

She usually took the bus in and caught a ride home with him in the afternoons. Part of the perks of dating a senior with a car. It had become their routine, so she knew he would be coming when he did. He caught up with her at her locker at the end of the day. She had grown used to it and like it, but today she was dreading it.

"If you're OK with Friday night, why are you ducking me?" he said.

"Well hello to you too, Quinlan!" she said. "And I'm not ducking you. It's just that Johanssen has really been riding my ass about being late after lunch," she lied.

"Oh right. Late to Study Hall. That's a major crime..."

"Look, just let it go already. I said Friday was no big deal, and that's it! And I'm not ducking you! Now are we going or what?" She closed her locker a little too loudly and started up the hall to the exit. OK, she might have slammed her locker.

"Can we just talk about this?" he asked.

He just wouldn't let it go. She didn't respond and they walked in silence out of the school and to his car. She waited for him to open the car door. She noted that that was another thing she like about Quinlan. It was the mid '80s and the guy would actually open a car door for a girl.

"OK," she began after he got in and started the car, and she was struck once again by the sound of her own full voice, as long as they were in the front seat of that car. "I might have been a little bit surprised by Friday night. But I'm OK now, and I wish you wouldn't make a big deal about it."

"'A little surprised' doesn't even begin to describe it. You practically went psycho on me back there!" he said, jerking his thumb toward the back seat.

"Let's not exaggerate," she said. "It got a little weird, but it's OK now."

"What do you mean 'it'? You mean you," he said.

"Well shit, Quinlan! I would never have guessed that's what you wanted to do. It just took me a little by surprise, OK? Besides it's a little fucking weird someone wanting to sniff your ass, alright??" she said. She really didn't want to have this conversation and she was starting to lose her patience.

"What, you thought I just wanted to sniff your ass? I wanted to do more than that--", and he stopped with a sudden realization that now might not be the best time for this particular little disclosure.

The fact that it had slipped out and that he wasn't thinking when he said it wasn't lost on her, but now it was out there and she didn't know what to do about it. Besides, More?? What more?? You mean he wanted to lick...?? Yuck! They sat in silence for a moment while she digested this new shock.

"I don't know what you're talking about Quinlan, but it's weird enough someone wanting to sniff around back there, let alone what more you wanted to do, what lick or whatever."

"Licking isn't the more I was thinking of, but let's just forget it!"

Licking wasn't the more he was thinking of? What the hell could he possibly mean then? She quietly puzzled over this for a while before she went against her own better judgement and decided her curiosity might kill her.

"Well, what was the more you were thinking of then? Kissing? Nuzzling? What? You want to kiss my ass, Quin?" In a different context, the question might have been flirtatious. In a different context, she might have been smiling. But she wasn't. And she saw he could see that.

"You have it all wrong. It wasn't that I wanted to do more than sniff your ass. It was that I wanted to sniff MORE than just your ass ? look just forget it!"

"Forget it? You're the one who wouldn't let it go!" Her mind was reeling now though. Sniff more than her ass, what the fuck? It was almost a morbid curiosity. She was very put off by the idea of doing anything back there, if the truth was to be known. She knew they were treading dangerous territory, and yet now her curiosity wouldn't let go of her. She was beginning to see Quin as kinky pervert, and it wasn't a good thing. She just had to know what it was now. She also realized that if she was going to find out, she was going to have to have to take a different tack. A less adversarial one.

"I'd say that by now you've sniffed just about everything," she said, this time with a softer tone. "What could you possibly be looking to sniff next?" She resisted the urge to add sarcastically: my feet? my armpits?

"Forget it Natalie."

"Come on, Quinlan, let me know. I'm sorry I freaked out before."

By now they had come to her house, and they parked in the street out front. It took another full 20 minutes of "It's OK, Quinlan" and "I think we should be honest with each other" before he cracked and finally let her in on his dark secret. She wasn't sure how she would feel about it or Quinlan's desire for it, but she had an undeniable need to know what the hell it might be that he wanted to sniff, what it could possibly be, and so she had really gone to great lengths to hide any hint of doubt on her part. By then she thought she was prepared for whatever it could possibly be anyway. She was wrong.

"Alright," he said finally, "you promise not to get mad or upset or laugh?"

She simply nodded. She sat straight up and leaned ever so slightly toward him. He had seen her do that once before while watching her watch the climax of a 6 month long plot build-up on one of her soaps.

"I'd like to sniff your ass, but what I really want to sniff is..."

She leaned in.

"...your..."

She leaned in even further, even though part of her was already cringing inside.

"...farts!" he stated simply.

And there it hung in the air ? so to speak. A concept so bizarre and foreign and alien that she couldn't even process it immediately. She knew it was going to disgust her when it registered, but she was still trying to process her way through the shock of it. It was just so, unthinkable! I mean you hear jokes and allusions to I don't know body scents and being exposed to them or whatever but nobody actually desired anything like that did they could they I don't get it do people really do that sort of thing oh my god...

And so her mind reeled.

Numbly and without words, she opened the car door, picked up her backpack and her purse and got out.

She closed the car door.

She walked into her house.

She didn't look back.

Quinlan Rogers would graduate high school two months later, get accepted to Brown, and graduate with honors with a degree in English Literature, all without hearing another word from Natalie Conlin.

It should have been hard to ignore someone that persistent. He was at her locker at the end of every day for the rest of that week. She got multiple notes from him each day. Over the weeks, he tried every trick in the book. Getting her friends to talk to her. Sending flowers. Once he even tried calling up and not telling her Mom it was him, only to have her hang up on him as soon as she recognized his voice and before he could get out more than two words.

But it was easy to ignore him. Because the daze she felt toward him in the wake of his unworldly admission made him seem like a mirage to her. Not even real. It was as though what she heard was so outlandish, her mind simply refused to accept the idea that he was real. She wasn't even trying to be cruel. She just couldn't deal with it, and she didn't want to deal with it, and so ultimately she dealt with it, by not dealing with it, or him.

Eventually, he gave up. On the last day of her Junior year in high school, his last as a high school student, he tried one last time to talk to her, but she just turned her back on him, and climbed on the bus. She did not see him that summer. She would hear about Quinlan from friends and through the grapevine. She knew he was going to Brown. She'd heard about some scholarship he got and academic awards he received there. She even registered a mild response to the news that he knocked up some girl in his second year and married her, only to find the pregnancy was false. It hadn't occurred to her to wonder whether or not that would make him want to get out of the marriage or not.

But there was one thing about Quinlan that she couldn't shake, though she fought hard not to acknowledge it, and succeeded, for several years.

College was an enlivening, wakening, broadening experience for Natalie. She dated after Quinlan, but managed to hang on to her virginity. Actually it wasn't so hard. In high school for some reason, sex wasn't a real priority for her, and the more her frustrated boyfriends would beg, con, and cajole, the easier it was for her to resist their advances. One of them did convince her to briefly let him go down on her again, but she tensed and it was over pretty quickly.

All that changed in college. Specifically when she met her French TA ? Teacher's Assistant ? in the Fall of her freshman year. The class was French 101, and was really more of refresher for her since she took two years of it in High School. The first day she felt something special looking at him, but it took weeks of being charmed by his worldliness, accent, and refined manner, to allow herself to acknowledge she thought he was pretty hot.

And there was something about that simple acknowledgement that was somehow liberating and frightening all at the same time. Feelings flooded through her as though from a shattered dam. Feelings of want, desire, romance, and lots of lust. She couldn't help staring at his ass when his back was turned. Once, to her great personal mortification, he called on her and she stammered for a bit but was not able to answer his question, the answer to which she did in fact know, because at the time she'd been pondering the taste of his cock.

It wasn't her French TA that totally changed her world though. He'd merely primed the pump. It would be a junior named Micheal Mocialli. Michael was in her English class, directly after French. All the feelings that had been released in French started to find targets in English. Her suppressed libido in high school did not keep her from learning the tricks of the dating trade though, and she soon had him asking her out with a series of assenting looks and body language that women have known since the dawn of time. It didn't hurt if most people thought you were attractive of course.

Thus began what could probably be termed a whirlwind romance. In a very short period of time, she and Michael became an item. The relationship could probably be best summed up as intensely sexual. She loved to fuck him, loved to feel him inside her, loved to suck on his cock, loved to grind her pussy into his face... it was fantastic. He had a fantastic 20-year-old physique and she took full advantage of it. He reminded her a bit of Quinlan to in that he loved oral sex, as much giving as getting.

One time they lay in his bed at his frat house and began talking about their sexual past. Turned out the weirdest thing he'd ever done was fuck one of his girlfriends in her mother's darkened dining room, while the rest of the family was just outside in the living room. Somehow, they'd managed to keep it quiet enough to finish without being detected.

When it came time to discuss the weirdest sexual experience Natalie had had, she drew a blank. All those years of repressing everything and pushing boys away had not left much of a daring sexual resume. The most sex she had prior to Michael still dated all the way back to Quin. She guessed that what ended that relationship could be described as the weirdest sexual experience she ever had, although at that time, she hadn't taken much of anything sexual from it.

"C'mon, Natalie, there has to be something," Michael prodded.

"OK, well, there was this guy I dated when I was 16..."

"Yeeeeeees?"

"I dunno this is really weird, but one time he went down on me, and..."

"Just one time???" Michael snickered.

"Come on you know what I mean. I mean this one time, he went down on me, and it was good you know, but then he started sniffing around down there and that was really weird."

"Sniffing is the weirdest sexual experience you've ever had," he commented wryly. "How sad."

"No, dummy!" she shouted and gave him a playful punch. "He sniffed my butt and later told me he wanted to sniff my farts! What a whack!"

Michael just stared at her silently for a moment.

"What??" she cried.

"That's a little off the beaten path, but, mmmm... I can kind of understand it."

"What, are you serious?? You're kidding right?"

"I love the way you smell, even if your not ummmm, you know, right out of a shower."

"Well that's different, you..." and then her voiced trailed off. "...Well, let's just say you're not sniffing my farts."

"How can you be sure I wouldn't want to though?" he asked teasingly.

"Come on, wanting to sniff someone else's farts is sick!"

"But sniffing your own is perfectly OK, right?"

She looked at his grin and wanted to smack him.

"Look Natalie, maybe it was a submissive thing for him. Maybe he was looking to worship you."

"You seem awfully understanding," she quipped sarcastically.

"Well, think about it, what could be a more convincing worship of your body than wanting to do something like that?"

"I guess. Would you do it though? Seriously, it just seems really weird!"

"OK, maybe I'm pushing your buttons here a bit, but I think you should've just relaxed about it and let him have his fun. Different strokes for different strokes you know what I mean? What's the worse thing that could happen? So you get to fart in some dude's face who's kissing your ass. Don't sound so bad to me. It's never even occurred to me to do it, but it doesn't outright disgust me."

It was her turn to tease. "Great, so what, you want to sniff my farts too?"

"What if I do?," he teased and pounced on her. They began wrestling and he quickly used his superior size and strength to overpower her and flip her over onto her stomach. He had her wrists in his hand and used his weight to pin her down.

"Maybe I'm just going to hold you down here until you admitted that you liked the fact that guy wanted you to fart in his face," he laughed.

She looked back over her shoulder at him and said, "Oh you think you're so big and strong, don't ya?" She laughed lightly but didn't struggle any further under him. The fact was he felt good on her and he was turning her on. "OK, you might be stronger than I am, but people want to sniff my farts!"

She wasn't sure what was going on at first, but she felt him start to slide down her, kissing her back. It felt great, and she was enjoying the sensation of his stiffening prick up against her ass. She felt herself relax; his lips just felt so good on her back. He kept kissing his way down her body until she felt his lips at the very small of her back.

"Well, don't stop there!" she cried.

"Oh, you want me to kiss your ass?"

"Yeah," she snipped. "Kiss my ass!"

So he let go of her hands and began to kiss the cheeks of her ass. She was shocked at the flush she felt on her cheeks. It was almost as though she was experiencing an involuntary erotic reaction that embarrassed her. She let him kiss her butt for a little while longer but the feeling she was experienced soon grew a little too intense and confusing, and she turned over.

Then she pulled him to distract him and he took the bait. What followed was probably the best sex she ever had with Michael, but she carefully avoided that topic ever again with him. They had a good run, but Michael would become part of her past soon enough. He had further opened some doors in her mind, that would eventually pave the way for the man she would someday marry. His name was Aaron.

What most people noticed immediately about Aaron was his race. He was as dark as Wesley Snipes. And big too. Intimidating to most people upon first appearance, but a sweetheart of a guy once you got to know him. It was this characteristic about him that so intrigued her and eventually lead to them dating.

And that's when Natalie got to find out the ways in which Aaron was truly different. He was a warm and gentle man who carried with him incredible power, both physically and psychologically. He could influence people in many different ways. He had the size to bring the hurt on if he had too, but his wit, charm, and sheer intelligence meant he virtually never had to. It gave him the kind of quiet confidence that only the truly secure have, and that made him attractive to woman and men alike. Everyone admired, respected and liked Aaron.

His points of differentiation carried over into their sex life as well, in a manner she never expected. Myth or not, he was hung like a horse, and was an absolute specimen of a man. She loved his body openly and often. And yet her love of him and his body paled in comparison to his love of hers. He adored her and was never reserved about wanting to worship her. After the first year of dating or so, it became clear that he preferred to worship her, and his worship seemed to center around her scent.

He loved the way she smelled. He loved every inch of her body, and the special scents of every part. Unlike other men who seemed to actually prefer the smell of perfumes, powders, lotions, oils and shampoos, Aaron relished her natural scents. In time, he would profess to love the smell of her dirty underwear, her armpits, her feet, her pussy, and especially her ass.

Perhaps it was the open, unaffected way he loved her and her body, coupled with her respect and love for him that caused her to not even question it when he sniffed her body. Before it occurred to her that she was letting him do things to her that had caused her great consternation in high school, she'd already been openly enjoying it for awhile. And he never asked her to let him smell her fart. It happened quite accidentally one time while he was kissing her down there. She was so wrapped up in what she was feeling from his lips and tongue that she simply let a fart go before she even knew she had one. Maybe it was the fact that by the time that happened, he had pampered her so much and lathered her ass so much with kissing, licking, sucking and sniffing that she had grown quite comfortable with the passively dominant role he was constantly putting her in, but neither of them even acknowledged it at the time that it even happened.

Her reaction was far different than it would have been in high school. Having her ass kissed made her feel dominant and arrogant to begin with, if quietly. So when this happened, it was really just an underscore of the mood she was already in, and it really turned her on. They might not have discussed it, but you couldn't ignore that it happened either.

Things really came to a head about a month or so later. He was showering her with kisses, starting at her feet and working his way up. Around the time he was at the middle of the backs of her thighs, she could feel the pressure of gas inside her, and she held it in. When he put his face right into her ass and began to sniff like she knew he would, she let her gas start to hiss slowly out of her asshole. She could feel him sniffing it in, and it gave her a rush she had never experienced before. It made her wet and she arched her back as she fed him the rest of her foul wind, and when she was done, he licked her until she came. It represented the culmination of a prolonged and subtle, but important, shift in their sexual relationship.

Not that she loved him or his body any less, but after that all of their attention seemed to just focus on her. She resisted it a bit at first, but over time all the attention and worship had its effect and she had grown to crave the ass kissing. She would still occasionally savor him, but the bulk of their sex life had become about how well he could satisfy her with her mouth while she did increasingly rude things to him.

Aaron was a flat-out masochist in some ways, and he nurtured a form of sadism in her that would eventually take hold and she would come to embrace. And the intensity of it seemed to fuel their relationship to ever higher levels of ecstasy and intimacy. The rudeness of farting in his face, which had started to become a staple of their sexual diet, was greatly intensified when they began to verbalize about it during sex. She would eventually come to enjoy making him beg for it, and withheld rude sex from him until he groveled for the abuse.

Sometimes sexually intense relationships burn out because there is nothing else sustaining them, but that was not the case for Aaron and Natalie. Being together in an interracial relationship was not easy, even in these supposedly enlightened times, and some of the adversity they faced together seemed to bond them together even more. Theirs was a rich, vibrant, and varied romance, and it was reflected in their sex. Eventually he gave her a ring and shortly thereafter they exchanged vows, and five years of marriage had seen their sexual heat increase, not decrease.

On the night of their fifth anniversary, she lay there in bed with him, after having gone out to a lavish restaurant and enjoying a romantic dinner over candlelight and wine, and cooed while thinking over the seven years that they had been together. One year dating, one year engaged, and now five years married. He had given her a beautiful diamond necklace and she wore that and nothing else as they lie there together.

She felt him begin to rub her shoulders and roll her over onto her stomach. She flashed him a knowing smile, and said, "Somebody wants to get nasty, don't they?"

Aaron tried to look innocent and said, "Can't a man love his wife on their anniversary?"

"Oh, you'll love me alright," she snickered. "You know this is the secret to our success, don't you?"

"You mean this?" he said and slid down behind her and gave the barest little peck right at the cleft of her butt cheeks.

"Oh, yessssssssssss," she sighed. "You taught me the real meaning of pleasing a woman."

"Kissing her ass?" he teased, as he began nuzzling her crack with his nose.

"That and eh... ....learning to take her shit." She couldn't stop a cat-who-ate-the ?canary smile from sneaking across her face.

"Well, I've certainly taken plenty of yours, haven't I?"

She could hear his breathing begin to change, the firm insistent caresses of his hands on her back, thighs, her cheeks, the trail of kisses he created over her ass and leading him back to the crack of her ass. She never got used to the thrill of it, and the anticipation of what was going to happen next.

The mood of the moment had grown strong, and after years of going through this dance, she had learned her role well, had learned to play without any self-consciousness at all. She wanted to say outrageous things to him, and she knew he wanted to hear them.

"You know what really makes me glow inside?" she asked.

"Tell me," responded Aaron, beginning to make a kissing trek down her ass crack.

"I just love thinking about all the shit I've watched you eat over the years. I mean, I just get such a warm feeling inside thinking about you eating my shit over and over and over again. You're so good at it!" She paused, patted him on the head, and added condescendingly, "Thank you, sweetheart!"

Her words ran through him like electricity, causing a magnetic reaction that sucked him deeper and deeper into the depraved humiliation he craved so badly. She was so very good at giving it to him and that made him worship her, in every meaning of the word. His kisses were protracted, romantic love affairs with her ass. He open his mouth so he could taste her skin, each pore. As he slid his mouth ever southward, he would encounter the little hairs he knew so well. She had once wondered if he was repelled by them; we seem to be a society obsessed with the removal of hair from a woman's body, but he drew them into his mouth and sucked on them and told her he loved them.

She continued, "How much of my shit do you think you've eaten? Has a week gone by where you haven't had the thrill of tasting my shit at least once?"

The questions were meant rhetorically, which was a good thing because he was way too absorbed in his reverie of her ass to answer her, but she had given it some thought, and she figured it would probably fill a wheel barrow, and the image of him eating a wheel barrow full of her shit made her chuckle.

"You've taught me well the two things my ass was meant for: to be kissed and to take a shit. With you, I get to combine both at the same time... You love being my slave, don't you?" This was a somewhat recent twist to their play, where his race was used to accentuate the humiliation. It was dangerous territory, culturally and personally, and it really did hurt on a certain level, but like a submissive taking lashes, he embraced the emotional pain of what was about to happen.

"You just love being my ass kissing slave, don't you?"

He was beginning to break, she could tell. He had started to kiss her pussy, and that meant that he was getting set to suck her off. He never licked her ass at this point, he wanted her scent to remain undiluted by his saliva, so that he could smell her while she got off in his mouth. She gyrated her hips, grinding her pussy against his face. As though her stiff wet clit demanded that he open his mouth, she began to feel his tongue on her.

"I like the way you never complain about having to kiss my ass or suck me off..." His ministrations were really bringing her closer to the brink. She continued her rude monologue while he serviced her. "...and you have no one to blame but yourself that I shit on you. You've made sure that I associate all of this with pleasure, the way you lap at my pussy until I come in your mouth when you know I'm going to shit on you anyway!"

And then she came, the orgasm riding on a wave of absolutely selfish, arrogant, sometimes even mean-spirited pleasure. She ground herself into his mouth, fucking his face as she came. As was his regular practice, he continued to kiss and gently lick her pussy for long after she came, making sure she enjoyed her full afterglow. It was not unusual after coming and then relaxing that she found she had to go the bathroom, and even though she just came, this part always thrilled her.

"That's it lick me, bitch! Open your mouth and cover my pussy ? I have to piss!" She loved the way he would strain and bend his neck awkwardly to accommodate her obscene demand. When she felt the seal was sufficient around her pussy, she began to urinate in his mouth. She could feel him sucking the piss out of her pussy like drawing soda through a straw, and her mind seemed to hone in on details like the sound of him gulping her piss. Something about the way he had just serviced her orally, and the timing of then repaying him by pissing in his mouth always made her feel that this was especially mean to do. She knew he enjoyed it, but it was still mean, and that thrilled her.

"Aaaaaahh!" she moaned. "That feels good taking a piss in your mouth... Make sure you lap up any remaining piss. Clean me good, bitch!" She felt him follow her orders. He finished by closed-mouth kissing her slit from bottom to clit.

"Now you may show your respect and gratitude by kissing my asshole and thanking me."

"Thank you for letting me make you come in my mouth, and then letting me drink your piss..." he said quietly. His subdued manner underscored the subservient nature of his actions. He gently pulled her butt cheeks apart and began showering her asshole with kisses. She felt that she was hot and sticky down there, and she knew what that meant.

Aaron breathed deeply as he kissed every familiar wrinkle of her asshole, and absorbed the familiar smell of her ass. The first few times they had tried some of the hardest scat play, it was really difficult for him. The scent was just too strong. He found he could not withstand the sheer intensity of the stench or taste of her shit, and would have to bail out, running to the bathroom to spit it out and once even vomiting.

In time, however, he grew accustomed to it, and he found he was able to keep it in his mouth and even swallow it. He eventually got to a point where he could chew it and run his tongue through it. Now he found that he craved it. Once while sharing these thoughts with her, she said, "I guess it's true then."

"What's that?" he replied.

"I once worked at a hotel as a waitress. The owner was a big fat mean old son-of-a-bitch. Everyone was afraid of him. He would fire people on the spot, and he loved the nervousness he inspired in his employees. I remember one time he came in for lunch, and I thanked God when I didn't have to wait on him. But then he started really riding the girl who was serving him and yelling at her, and she left crying. I then had to wait on him and I was terrified. But when I came up to his table, he was very soft-spoken with me, kind even. And I'll never forget what he said to me just before he finished his meal and got up to leave. He said, 'Don't worry about that girl. She'll be back. You make some people eat your shit enough times, and they eventually come to crave it!' and then he laughed. And you know what? Next day, she was back at work."

"I'd never heard that story before," Aaron had said.

"So you see," said Natalie, turning toward him and stroking his chin, "I've made you eat so much of my shit now that you like the taste of it. Your crave it now, don't you? See? You're now my little shit junky!"

This conversation went through his mind now as he kissed her asshole with the taste of her come and piss fresh in his mouth, and he found himself reveling in the scent of her ass, and craving the taste of her shit. He felt a vertigo of lust sweep over him.

"Please shit on me, Natalie! Please let me eat your shit! I'm hungry for your shit!"

"I know, you shit junky! Lick my ass!" she responded, and she felt his tongue begin to caress the folds of her asshole, and then she let a fart rip right into his mouth. She sometimes missed the way he used to gag when she did that.

Then she felt his tongue start to wiggle inside her relaxing asshole. She loved this feeling of getting her asshole licked out, of getting a sort of tongue enema. She loved knowing that he would soon taste the fruits of that enema.

She let another fart loose into his mouth, and then began to feel her bowels bear down. The time had come...