scatboy, Part 4.
As I continued to feed scatboy, the music, the sounds, the smells, and the sensations coalesced to create this almost euphoric state in me. It is really a head trip, and quite enjoyable. The weed contributed to the experience in the sense that it helped me to enjoy doing what I was doing to scatboy, by lessening my inhibitions and helping to create these great visuals. I had my eyes closed, and could see all manner of color, shapes, and even “holes.” I definitely saw something representing a psychedelic hole, and it looked as though I were passing through it, diving into it. It was as though the sensations I felt as scatboy ate my shit influenced what I was seeing. It was an amazing experience.
As the process continued, I would jack myself almost continuously. It felt great to receive the kind of service scatboy was providing, jack myself, take a hit of poppers, take a sip of whiskey, and edge myself. There was a palpable loss of sense of time. During the feeding it was as though time no longer mattered, and I had no sense of its passing. I was in a timeless place that was all about pleasure and satisfaction. Quite honestly, I was so focused on my enjoyment of the feeding, that I spent little time thinking about what scatboy was experiencing. It is somewhat selfish to say, but true, and in keeping with my way of seeing things. Perhaps I took pains to prepare good quality shit for scatboy, but the feeding is all about me. That is my time, my pleasure, me, me, me. Yeah, great, scatboy gets off on it too, but my head is totally about my experience of the feeding while it’s happening. This is not unlike any situation where a man is enjoying himself, and while he is conscious of the other person he’s playing with, his head can take him anywhere he likes.
Like all good things, a feeding does have to end at some point. scatboy ate every bit of my logs, and quite skillfully at that. I was duly impressed. All that edging and all that arousal made ejaculation seem almost anticlimactic. But I wasn’t going to forego it, by any means. While scatboy cleaned up my hole, I got myself off, shooting a nice big load of cum. With that done, I was spent. I checked the time, and noted that almost two hours had passed since we started the feeding. The next thing that happened was much to my liking. With the feeding done, and with me satisfied, scatboy felt he could pleasure himself to completion. Granted, he was jacking during the feeding, but now he was going to stroke one off. scatboy focused and finally shot his load. Next came clean up time for him.
Some heavy scat players will probably feel this speaks to my lack of experience, but when the feeding is over, I want no part of the shit around me. The sooner that scatboy could go wash up, the better I liked it. I am not into smearing or shitkissing or things of that nature, at least not thus far. For the record, I enjoy being the dom, feeder top, but I have no interest in eating shit myself. That ain’t happening anytime soon, trust me. I was quite pleased when scatboy returned nice and clean and fresh. With his cleanup done, he next settled into things he needed to do in the aftermath of the feeding. As you can well imagine, eating a big load of shit is hard on the GI system. scatboy would down a bunch of Pepto-Bismol to help him digest my shit. he would also sit up instead of laying flat in bed. So I was able to relax and lay in bed, but he had to sit up in a chair for a while. It aroused me to see him sitting there dealing with the aftermath of the feeding while I was able to completely relax. This is in keeping with the joy I experience when I watch a boy working for me around the house. It does my heart good to see a boy work, and digesting my shit is definitely a form of work. But suffice to say, it is a labor of love, especially in scatboy’s case.
Feedings went pretty much this way between me and scatboy when we were able to make them happen. In reality, the ratio of time spent feeding him to overall time was quite small. The two of us spent a lot of time together, but the feedings were just a small part. As I’ve mentioned, they figure large in the scheme of things, but they were only part of our relationship. The two of us could just as likely be found on the rooftop of his building, looking out at the night sky, the lake, the cars and pedestrians passing 20 stories below. The rooftop of scatboy’s building was a vantage point from which we could see quite a lot, and we enjoyed time spent up on the roof together. There was some rule about people not being up there after a certain hour, 11:00 p.m., and sometimes the maintenance man would come out to check the roof. At those times we made an effort to escape detection.
One of the things that scatboy loved was to watch me eat. There was this real sense that he wanted to see the food going into my body, in anticipation that he might get it on the other end. This aroused him quite a lot, and he told me about it frequently. I was pleased to let him watch me eat and get off on it. Given the pleausure he derived from watching me eat, scatboy was happy to cook for me. Sometimes I would come over at 7:00p on a weekday evening, and he would cook me breakfast. On weekends, when I would stay over, he would get up and make coffee for me, and then make breakfast for me. He also liked to cook nice dinners for me. There was a real sense of him taking care of me, pleasing me. He was very sweet that way.
As I’ve alluded to from time to time, nothing lasts forever, and sometimes good things must come to an end. From the beginning scatboy knew about my slave, and as my relationship with my slave deepened, the very real prospect of me claiming my slave and bringing him to live with me in Chicago loomed on the horizon. That would become a sticking point between scatboy and I. Not so much my slave living with me, as scatboy’s demand for a specified amount of time monthly in the future, after I brought my slave to live with me. I never said that scatboy was a total sub, or a pushover. I may have mentioned his possessiveness, which you can probably understand. he had something in his life that meant very much to him, and he wanted to hold onto it. But what scatboy lacked was a willingness to compromise. scatboy wanted me to guarantee a weekend or two a month for him ad infinitum, and I could make no such promise. I knew that when I brought my slave to Chicago that there would be no way to give him that much of my time. When I communicated that to scatboy, it signaled the beginning of the end.
I have mostly all good memories of scatboy, and no ill will toward him. We have exchanged e-mails once or twice since my slave came to live with me, but I have not gotten together with scatboy again.
i feel sorry for scatboy, he really loved u, well i guess it was good while it lasted, but your precious slave had to come first, scatboy was really sweet and u gave us a good insight into shit sex,i appreciated that and i enjoyed it alot and understand it more now, i wonder if my bf would want to eat my poopy, i’ll ask him hee hee.
i hope your future postings would be of u and other men fucking your hot slave, u know that is what i want to read about.
boy damien,
thanks for the feedback. and yes, you and most others do seem to enjoy all fucking, all the time.
LSB