A long time ago, someone asked me to write an erotic story that involves an issue I have trouble with. I think he was just being an ass, or seeing if I could do it. Well, here is the story – it is disturbing to me, mostly because it involves a subject I would not normally chose on my own.
Every Wednesday, I have lunch with Rob.
When I say we have lunch, I mean I leave my administrative job, travel to his house, and he fucks my brains out. Match made in heaven, right? Wrong. Rob is really into anal sex, and well, I have OCD, and I don't want anyone near my butt hole. It is just too unsanitary. Those without OCD really can't understand this.
Each and every visit, it is the same. He asks me if he can fuck me up the ass, and I always make an excuse. Well, the guy is hot, and he lives fairly near where I work, so there are advantages to this. After the third or forth excuse, I told him that I would allow him to fuck me up the ass only when I pooped beforehand. I told him it was because it would seem more sanitary.
So every time, it was the same. He would ask his question, I would smile, and let him know that I had not pooped yet, that I was sorry, but it wasn't going to happen. Because we only had an hour, he quickly groped me, there were clothes flying off, and then some hot normal sex.
I was satisfied.
Anyway, Wednesday comes. I leave work, saying I have to run an errand at lunch, and rush towards my Wednesday appointment.
I get to Rob's house five minutes early, and I pause. I always wonder who else he sees during the day. We are both married, and I think having a committed extramarital affair seems ironic. Besides, he knows I fuck around, and I don't ask about him. I just don't want to know.
I timidly knock on the door, and he opens it almost immediately. I rush past him, and his strong hand grabs my ass.
"I want your ass, today," Rob states.
"Sorry, hun, but I have not pooped since this morning, and you know, I just don't want to do it with some poop in my colon."
I hear a bath being drawn as I answer.
"I want us to take a bath today," Rob counters.
No pawing, no immediate sex. A bath. At once my mind wonders if Rob is getting soft, if I am turning into a girlfriend. I don't want to be a married man's girlfriend. Fuck toy is what I signed up for. Holy crap, I don't want this to happen.
We kiss tenderly as he unwraps me, taking care to place my dress on one of his wife's hangers. He knows I need to look well-made after the bath and whatever. The bra and panties are placed in a ball in the corner of the rather large bathroom.
The tub, a wonderful whirlpool tub, is finally full of bubbly water. Funny, is that I think he should not be placing bubble bath in the water – it clogs up the jets, and the fragrance will be different on me than the fragrance I came to the appointment with.
I slid into the tub, and then Rob entered the tub. He lightly touched my breasts, and I felt safe, like a girlfriend. Crap.
His finger hit the whirlpool button, and the jets came to life. Oh, the powerful jets, twelve of them, started massaging our bodies.
"I want you to do something for me," Rob stated. His words were powerful.
"Sure, sweetie," I answered, trying to lighten the mood.
"I want you to read this book," Rob pulled a hardback copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover from a hiding place, "while you let the jets work on you."
He turned the book to Chapter 9, and, as ordered, I started to read.
Connie was surprised at her own feeling of aversion from Clifford. What is more, she felt she had always really disliked him. Not hate: there was no passion in it. But a profound physical dislike. Almost, it seemed to her, she had married him because she disliked him, in a secret, physical sort of way. But of course, she had married him really because in a mental way he attracted her and excited her. He had seemed, in some way, her master, beyond her.
While reading, he positioned me on my knees, leaning on the side of the tub, reading. At first, he positioned a jet at me, and it shot water in the direction of my pussy. The water was warm and wonderful.
He told me to stay in that exact position, and he was going to go get something and come back. I was to stop at the end Chapter 10.
I think Rob left to have DH Lawrence's words act upon me. As I continued to read, I noticed that the jets were not really targeted on my pussy; the jets were forcing water against my anus.
Being OCD, I did not mind. Having an extra-clean asshole was nice, comforting. After a few minutes, however, the constant pounding of water against my anus was a bit uncomfortable. Still I sat and read, wanting to please Rob.
Rob joined me nearly fifteen minutes later, but because I was reading, I did not notice how much time had elapsed. His reappearance re-awoke my senses. By that time, my ass hurt a little bit, and I made a joke about it to Rob.
Rob entered the tub again and chucked.
"Sweetie," he reassured me, "the reason your ass hurts is that gas has gotten in your ass. You probably need to fart."
He kissed me and placed a hand to support my left breast, having his pointer finger trace the curve of my breast.
"Ladies don't pass gas in front of men," I giggled, and Rob had me turn over, him wanting to touch my ass.
His finger traced my back, and I felt so safe, so comfortable.
He kissed my back again and again, and said, "Fart for me, please. It will make your bottom feel better."
"No," I responded.
And he kissed my earlobe, sucking on the lobe and tonguing my ear. It completely drives me crazy, and Rob knows my weakness.
The bubbles were so fragrant, the water so warm, my anus having a bit of pressure, most likely from that darned gas.
And then I farted.
The gas smelled awful, aided no doubt by the constant bubbling. Goodness, I hope this did not turn Rob on.
Rob reached for some lube, and I started to protest, and then it hit me. I did not pass gas in the whirlpool. Flecks of poop were bubbling to the surface. Instead of a bit of gas in my butt, I am sure I had a great deal of water in my colon. The whirlpool acted as an enima, and I had just shat in the whirlpool.
He lubed me fast, and started fucking me hard in the ass. He was not gentle, but the fragrance, the knowledge of me pooping in the tub, everything, just made me submit.
Afterward, I took a shower to get the smell off of me. From that day onward, I would take an enema to work on Wednesdays. And before meeting Rob, I would go to the bathroom, squeeze the salt water in my butt, and shit for my Rob. Lesson learned.
Indifference is the Opposite of Love
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