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Days in Rodanthe

By: mindingutter





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 02



Note: This is part 2 of the series, and will seem improbable unless the first segment is digested. 





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 02



Za'ana suddenly stirred around, removing the jacket. She indeed wore a halter top, gathered at the neck, and angled down her sides toward her waist, revealing just a hint of the sides of her tits. The thin, silky top offered no support, and the peaks of her roving, soft nipples caught the light whenever she moved. My dick began to grow. Even the sight of her dark hair across her bare back sent blood to my cock.   

"Robert, sweetie, want to speak my native language?" she asked in a whisper. She tilted her head and smiled as I nodded. "Repeat after me." 

I quietly echoed about a dozen syllables back to her, assuming I had just promised to wear lacy panties the rest of the trip or something in Persian. 

"You just begged to lick my asshole!" She covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. 

"Good! Can I beg in English too?" I said into her ear, smiling and feeling my dick expand even further in my pants. This was not where I first thought my mouth would first land on her body, but it was something I had fantasized about repeatedly, since I had never done it before.  

She quietly unfastened her seat belt and unsnapped her jeans, then turned away and bent over. I moved into a better position, slouching down and looking straight at her beautiful ass. We had been occupying the middle and window seat of a three-seat row, and with the armrests up, there was enough room to curl into a sort of a sixty nine position, while staying hidden behind the tall seatbacks. My mouth watered as I watched the jeans slowly creep down, revealing the elastic bands of a lime green thong. She reached back and moved it to the side, exposing her crack and finally, her beautiful hole. It was dark brown and recessed slightly, with irregular ridges radiating outward from the center, all surrounded by small red dots where she had apparently shaven or waxed. I stiffened my tongue and plunged it in as deep as I could, withdrew, and dove in again several times, tasting her saltiness. Her other hand appeared and she grasped her cheeks and spread them, the dark red polish of her long nails contrasting with the surrounding flesh. I spent the next several minutes with my tongue extended, probing, licking and quietly kissing her crack and flexing asshole. She maneuvered her cheeks into different positions, at times widening her opening, providing me with a quick but potent whiff of her innards. My dick was rock hard in my pants. My arms had been pinned under her thighs awkwardly and just as I freed one hand to caress her, she yanked the jeans up and sat down, smiling, and leaned over to kiss my cheek.  

"Very nice," she said quietly. "Your tongue is very talented." 

Za'ana checked the aisle in front of us, then motioned for me to follow her back to the bathroom. We quietly latched the door. My mind was racing with the possibilities. I had always heard about airline lavatory sex, and now it may be my turn. Za'ana had never re-snapped her jeans, and was now pushing them and her panties down to her calves, while her breasts jiggled nicely in the halter. She stood up straight and my eyes traveled immediately to her crotch. She had apparently gotten a full Brazilian wax while I was buying clothes, as the skin was smooth as silk, if a little red, all around her protruding pussy lips. 

"What the fuck are you looking at?" she said in an angry half whisper. Her demeanor had suddenly turned sour. "I let you lick my asshole and you still stare at this! You like this? Huh?" Za'ana held her crotch for a moment, then slapped my cheek. "You perverted piece of shit!" Two more slaps stung my face. I realized this was her first time slapping me directly, without a belt or flyswatter. 

"Yes I love it!" I replied. 

"On your knees and get closer then, you snot-eating masturbator!" 

There was barely enough room, but I managed to drop to my knees and look up at her. I was hoping for an order to start nibbling on those sweet lips, but realized I was wrong when she sat on the toilet. Za'ana slapped me again and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me until I was halfway reclined on the floor, with my chin nearly on the toilet seat between her widened thighs. She yanked her green panties up to her knees and harshly rubbed them on my face.

"Smell! Perverted bastard!" she said, then pushed them back down. 

To my surprise they were damp and fragrant. She had only been wearing them a couple hours; I guess I had done a good job probing her rectum. As I took in the breathtaking view of her pubic region, I detected the sound of rushing air. The stink of an onion-laced fart hit my nose as she emptied her bladder. I had forgotten how intense the smell could be. In between my gags, I could hear the echo of the urine as it hit the darkened metal beneath her. Suddenly she raised up, allowing some of the dull florescent light beneath her hips. A grunt from her was the only warning that a rapid succession of stinking, loose, Mexican food turds was about to blast its way out of her colon. The rotten vegetable smell was of course horrific, but I took it in as my damn cock, having enjoyed the sting of my face being slapped, her scented underwear and the idea of this olfactory torture, strained against my jeans. In the dim light I watched the silhouette of her nearly liquefied shit. It made an almost melodic song as it pelted the stainless steel toilet bowl and trap door before descending into the chemical-laden blue water. 

"I see your cock is nice and hard Robert," She said, looking at the bulge in my pants, after her onslaught was over. "Show it to me, but do not touch it." 

 I opened and unzipped my jeans. My dick was painfully stiff. I hadn't jerked off in over a week, hoping to be able to make at least one real mess on a girl's face, with or without permission, in Lauderdale. If I didn't actually fuck or get a blowjob, maybe I could find a passed out girl alone and slide her clothes off enough to see some titties and jerk off on her, I had fantasized. It was ironic that Za'ana's arrival at the dorm meant that my face and mouth would now be the likely recipient of that load. 

"You love smelling and watching my bowels, don't you? "

"Yes I love your bowels." I said, a new wording of the same old phrase. My dick was red and throbbing, pointing at the ceiling as I groveled on the floor.         

"Don't you wish I had just made this maird all over you face?" she bent over and looked me in the eye. The halter top fell forward slightly, revealing even more of the side of her tit. "Will you beg to eat my bowels again?" 

"Yes of course," I replied like someone in a trance. Her brown eyes could make me mumble practically anything.

Za'ana cleared her throat. "Now beg for my saliva!" 

I did so and held my mouth wide open, receiving and swallowing two blasts of viscous, but mint flavored, spit. 

"Okay now, clean my ass with the paper and then soap and water." 

I stood and did as she instructed, wiping her ass, then soaping, rinsing and drying her brown orifice as she stood facing away from the sink, my embargoed cock sticking out. Za'ana kissed my cheek and left, leaving me to clean the seat and its surroundings, which had suffered multiple splatters from her high-elevation bombing. 

We eventually slept and arrived in Miami at sunup. The rest of the warm Saturday was another assortment of lines, baggage claims and shuttles as we switched airlines to fly to San Juan, and finally to the island of Saint Martin. Za'ana treated me like a king in public, hanging on my arm frequently, flirting and asking my permission unnecessarily to use the bathroom or look around a duty-free shop. Little could anyone tell what was really going on between us. 





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 02



"Finish eating my bowels," she began, out of breath, "and then take off the panties." 

I gulped down the final half mouthful, which had cooled down, and slid the ruined, wet panties down her thighs. When I reached her knees, she pivoted around and sat on a dry spot on the worn deck boards, releasing the panties from her raised ankles. Za'ana reached behind her back and unhooked the soaked bra she had been wearing, rendering her completely naked. Her beautiful skin glistened from the golden shower and her tits quivered nicely. 

"Take off that underwear." she commanded, still winded. 

I was hoping it was time to fuck, but I again guessed wrong. I followed her next series of instructions, which resulted in me sitting on the deck as well, knees raised, facing her but only our feet were close enough to touch. I had been ordered to tie my nuts in a sling, created by the two bras and my former panties. The far end of this improvised rope was in Za'ana's free hand, as she had resumed massaging her clit. 

"Stuff those into your mouth, you perverted, nasty fucker!" she said, referring to the shit and piss soaked panties I still held in one hand. "And use the juice to jerk your cock. Hopefully everyone on the boats is watching and making videos of you playing with your own dick, and they will know what a sick bastard you are!" Her tone was quite angry. 

I chewed on the cool, soaked, disgusting panties, and spit on my hand and began another round of jerking off for Za'ana. She watched intermittently, fingering her clit between her exaggerated lips, which glistened slightly in the light from the cabin. 

She slowly began twisting the makeshift rope, pulling it taut and then tugging on my nuts while I jerked off. The elastic from the bras eased the pressure slightly but I still I began to grunt as her pulls became more zealous and she held them longer. The more discomfort I appeared to be in, the more she looked at the sky and moaned with pleasure. It was hard to concentrate on producing enough brown spit to keep my dick lubed, but I finally managed to come into my other hand. 

Za'ana didn't even notice, as she rubbed her pussy chaotically, and kept intermittently yanking on my aching balls. I cried out as she yanked the last few times, like she was starting a lawnmower. I curled up in pain on my side, sweating, mouth filled with mushy, shit-soaked cotton. My stomach churned. She began to moan, pausing only for little staccato squeals as she experienced what seemed like several spastic orgasms. 

I looked at her from the strange, low angle, and she was beautiful in the muted light, writhing in pleasure, her flexing limbs and undulating curves shimmering with urine and perspiration. I hoped I had given her what she needed, and better than anyone ever had before. 





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 03







Days in Rodanthe Pt. 03



Once she calmed down, Za'ana stood and faced me. She had almost as much shit on her as I did. From her knees up to her eyes, she was smeared with brown in patterns similar to those created when waxing a car. Her black hair was plastered around her face by sweat, and to her collarbone on one side, stuck in a piece of clinging, mashed turd. Trails of wet, brown slime ran down her chin and under the necklace, which was caked with shit as well. Her stomach, navel filled with feces, and chest undulated quickly as she breathed heavily. Suddenly Za'ana yanked on the back of the chair until I was at an angle, and she could straddle one of the arms, one foot on the floor and her other leg resting on top of my forearm. Her inner thigh was warm and moist. One of her gorgeous tits was just out of reach of my mouth.

"You've been obsessed with my breasts ever since the beach house," she said, out of breath, pulling outward on a crap-coated nipple with her stained fingers, nails no longer glossy, obscured by dull glaze of fecal matter. "I saw you looking at them the first day, and you shit your pants just so I would reveal them, didn't you, Robert? You're such a sick bastard! Did you think about them as you masturbated, after I left? Have you enjoyed staring at them all this week, you pervert?"

"Yes I did and yes, they're beautiful."

"I bet you would love to suck them wouldn't you? Imagine them in your mouth, your tongue caressing and lips surrounding it..." She tugged and twisted teasingly, then retrieved some shit out of my lap, wiped it on the top surface of her tit and covered the nipple. A stiff blob hung precariously off the end. She wiped the excess crap off her hand by yanking on my throbbing dick several times.

"Beg for my breast, you panty-ass crybaby nasty boy!" She spat in my eye.

"Please let my suck your tits, Za'ana, Please!" I said, back to using only a single eye, spit running down my cheek.

"Again!"

I repeated myself twice, with more than one extra 'please' and ended with "I want to suck them so bad." I was literally bouncing slightly as I whined.

Finally she stuck one of her turd-covered, handful-sized tits in mouth, and my cock jolted upward happily. Her nipple and wrinkled, bumpy areola were stiff, dense and rubbery, and the biggest I had ever had in my mouth, the size of the end of one of my fingers. My tongue circled around as I noisily alternated nibbling and sucking as hard as I could, the morsels of shit long gone down my throat.

As a double treat, I felt her hand, slick with spit-thinned crap, begin to jerk on my cock. I moaned her name with blissful pleasure.

"Tell me when you are close to your orgasm," she said, "I don't want to miss it."

She pulled her tit, now the cleanest area on her body, away to switch sides, made me beg again, and resumed yanking on my cock. The introduction of a fresh, stiffened, shit-covered nipple in my mouth brought me close to shooting.

"I'm coming!" I said out the side of my ecstatically occupied mouth, out of breath..

Za'ana immediately took her hand away and backpedaled, leaving my brown coated dick pointing at the ceiling at an angle, throbbing rapidly, and my mouth empty. She raised her open hand to shoulder level, and I could see her palm and rings were dull with a brown coating.

"Are you ready for your dripping orgasm? Beg for it, you shit eating bastard!" She continued to yell for me to beg her as the sadistic beauty smacked and backhanded my gunky face at least half a dozen times, creating more brown rain that landed on both my shoulders and the floor beyond.

"Please let me come, Za'ana, please!" My cock was aching, and it felt like it was already leaking a little white sample. My face stung from her slaps.

Suddenly I cried out loudly as pain seared up the side of my swollen, stiff dick. I looked down and Za'ana's middle finger was coiled up and held back by her thumb, ready to flick my cock again. The threat against my helpless dick was the final stimulus, and jizz began to flood out of my pee hole. A shockwave of sorts went through my body as her finger painfully grazed the head, and the semen shot out nearly a foot in the air, catching her off guard as she rushed to catch it in her hand. I shook as the built-up load intensely coursed out with pulse after pulse. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears over my moans, like when awakening from a nightmare.

"Here. Lick your mess off," she said, shoving a sperm-coated palm onto my mouth, open from being out of breath. I spent the next minute slurping the warm, beige, feces- tinted semen off her fingers as she commented that I didn't suffer enough torment on the verge of my orgasm. The remaining jizz trickled down my stomach, cutting a path through the smeared crap and into my pubes.

Afterward the beautiful, naked, shit-plastered woman took a plastic spoon from off a shelf, broke a section of the top off, then lowered the sharp edge down to my nuts, poking them, nearly hard enough to draw blood, several times as she laughed and I squirmed and voiced my discomfort. After a dozen jabs or so, she used it like a knife to slice the plastic tape off my extremities and chest. Finally freed, I stood and stretched, pausing to help her remove her necklaces, which ended up in a pile on the edge of the sink. In a few moments my ruined shirt was off and we were standing in the dry tub, with the white curtain closed around us. We looked like members of some primitive tribe, tan all over, with ceremonial markings all over our bodies, courtesy of Za'ana's colon. She squatted in front of me, and took my soft, sore dick between her thumb and forefinger.

"Piss Robert!"

No problem there, I needed to go for the last hour. I relaxed and felt a warm spray as she waved my dick all over like a celebratory champagne bottle, directing some in her mouth and then soaking both of us, giving a new gloss to our shit spray tans. I was then told to lie in the tub, and sat in a puddle of sepia-tinted urine. I loved the view of her athletic curves from below. I was only partially reclined when she released her full bladder from between those beautiful, brown-caked labia, soaking me from face to knees as she thrust her hips around, giggling loudly.

Next, we stood and kissed again for a minute or so as the flavor of her salty piss lingered, its freshness temporarily overpowering the dull taste of the shit, which always lurked in my mouth with the intensity of burnt, gas station-quality black coffee. Afterward I got the treat of shampooing her hair and soaping her entire body, head to toe, no restrictions. I took my time with her awesome tits and ass. She even had me insert soapy fingers into her pussy and butthole. Of course this all made my cock hard again, but she ignored it, and stepped out as soon as the last of the suds were rinsed off, right before the hot water ran out. She dried off and brushed her teeth for about fifteen minutes, and then cleaned her jewelry with another toothbrush for just as long, as I took the first of two cold showers I would take that night. The second one came after I spent over an hour cleaning the splattered walls, floor and chair with supplies she had apparently pilfered from the housekeeper.

I emerged from the bathroom and received an invite into the bed with her, where she wore a clingy, sheer white nightgown. I drifted off to sleep as she spooned behind me, mumbling about her 'nice guy'.





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 03



"Is this," she began to ask angrily, "where you want to put your pink hardness, you sick, nasty pervert?" She rubbed the head of the latex dick in a zigzag across her fleshy lips. Her upper lips had tanned slightly, despite being mostly shaded from the sun at the nude beach by the angle of her legs, the fact that she was on her stomach quite a bit, or that she would place her hat over her crotch if she felt someone was being a bit too inquisitive. Her overflowing labia did seem to be a novelty at the beach, where most shaved females displayed a simple cleft in this magical land of exposed pussies.

Za'ana angled her pelvis and fucked herself slowly, dragging her lower labia in and out with each motion. "Is this what you want to do to me?"

"Yes, I always have." My cock twitched while I strained to see, as her hand, dripping with shit juice, blocked most of the view.

"You are disgusting! Here, taste my vagina, you cocksucker!" The glistening latex dick was now dangling over my face, and I opened my mouth to receive the head, coated with my most undiluted taste yet of her rich, oceanic essence. She pumped it up and down slightly, then removed it so I could respond to her demand that I beg for the dildo in my hole. She once again kneeled beside the tub, rubbing her pussy.

"Please fuck my ass, please Za'ana!" I said, yearning to fill the void left by her recently vacated fingers, even though the only lube was going to be a cocktail of my shit and her juices. "Please fuck it hard! Stretch it wide! Fuck it raw!" I begged again in a similar plea, tried my best to relax my muscles, and a few seconds later I cried out, mostly with pleasure. The latex dick was plunged quickly past my partially open sphincter from a height of over a foot by my beautiful, smiling, twisted girlfriend.

Satisfied with the depth she had reached, about half the length, she stuck two fingers in the hollow tubular space inside the rubber cock and began to indiscriminately jerk it all around at different angles like a stick shift, jolting my hips around with it. I moaned almost constantly for the couple minutes or so, as it felt awesome, blended with enough pain to know I was being unnaturally violated. Za'ana eventually changed her grip and began to rapidly piston the latex dick up and down. On the outbound strokes, which frequently launched the brown cock completely out of my rectum, the brim of the head dredged blobs of liquid shit up and into the air, splattering my nuts, inner thighs, and her wrist. Intestinal chills ran up an down my body and I felt more runny feces making its way out of my hole and raining off the fast moving dildo. My full bladder was starting to hurt, a sensation amplified by my inverted position. My stiff, reddish meat, bouncing around as she plowed into me, was aching as well, and despite no permission from her, I reached up and slowly began to jerk off.

Her motion stopped, the dildo buried deep in my satisfied but sore and throbbing asshole. "You males and your fucking reproductive fluid!" Za'ana complained, her breath labored. "You get hard and just have to spray your DNA! Let's get this over with!" She grabbed me to stop my stroking, leaving a bracelet of shit on my wrist, as another sharp, stinking scent slammed into my nose. The beautiful brunette displayed a small, freshly squeezed turd of her own making between her thumb and forefinger. It was dark brown with a greenish hue, which I knew was a result of taking antacids, and blunt on one end like it was just the beginning segment of a larger torpedo still in her colon. She crushed the dull-surfaced nugget in her hand, spit into the resulting mush and grabbed my throbbing meat with both hands, holding it at the base and rubbing the warm gunk all over my cock. I figured I would be jerking with her shit covering my dick, and reached up to grab it.

Instead, to my surprise, the top of her head appeared between my legs, and her pony tail hung toward my face. I felt her wet mouth on my dick, and I moaned with joy as she noisily began to suck it. I could feel the lumps of shit surround my shaft as the newest fecal stench grew stronger, and soon brown trails of Za'ana's excess spit rolled down my stomach toward my chest. Her shoulder muscles flexed beneath the bra straps that crossed her back. The latex cock began moving again, making me want to come even harder. Loud squishes from my tenderized hole and my moaning her name accompanied the beautiful brunette's heavy grunting and slurping as her shit encrusted pony tail and inverted hoop earrings flailed about. She changed the angle of her flexing neck, and I could see her puckered lips, dripping with brown juice, sliding up and down my coated shaft. Everything glistened as my hips began to jolt. Za'ana pulled away and straightened up, her face displaying trails of brown saliva angled upwards from her lips due to her nearly inverted encounter with my dick. She used her coated hand to stroke my stiff cock upward toward the ceiling. She increased her speed and brown rain sprayed all over me as I cried out and joyfully pumped thick ribbons of sperm up into a small arc that quickly fell and splattered all over my chest and face. It felt awesome. The salty, gooey semen felt warm, even on my flushed face, as it slid into my mouth and down my cheeks. The remainder mixed with the shit juice on my heaving chest and flowed toward my neck and collar bones.

Through the whole blowjob, my girlfriend had continually plunged my asshole with the rubber dick. As the pleasure from my cock faded, a new sensation overtook me, even beyond the surges of discomfort from my back and the blended pleasure and pain in my expanded rectum.

"I gotta piss!" I said pleadingly, winded.

"So?" Za'ana said unsympathetically. "Go ahead and piss yourself!"

My softened dick was pointed right at my face, so I grabbed it and tried to aim to the side, and relaxed my muscles, but Za'ana made some mumbling remark and took over, pointing the golden stream at the ceiling. My eyes shut by reflex as a torrent of salty piss splashed onto my face chest, legs and ass, wherever she could aim it, including her own mouth, as I heard it pool before she gulped. I tried to open my eyelids but I could only see the yellow droplets that covered my lashes like a bizarre mascara and they stung from the salty liquid.

The frantic motion of the dildo suddenly stopped but it stayed deep inside me and I sensed my girlfriend stepping into the tub near my soaked head. I was sweating heavily and had no sooner begun to enjoy the affects of my urine as it cooled and lowered my surface temperature, when a new deluge began. It was hot and rich with the scent of alcohol, accompanied by Za'ana shouting a command.

"Open your fucking mouth! Drink my piss like lemonade, you nasty pervert!"

At that moment I felt her legs next to mine, as she moved in closer to urinate on my face. It was no different than sticking my head under the shower as her aromatic bladder contents blasted my upper lip and cheekbones and pooled rapidly in my mouth, overflowing like a park fountain, even as I loudly gulped a few mouthfuls, coughing most of the time as my nose became filled and it was nearly impossible to swallow upside down. My legs could feel her roving hips as she pissed for what must have been a nearly a minute, and my head could not have been more chilled and soaked if I had been swimming on a cold day. All traces of the jizz that had covered my face were gone and were replaced by a sour saltiness.

I heard the sound of her feet squeaking nearby in the iron tub's puddles of urine, but could not exactly tell what Za'ana was doing. She grunted, then moaned, and the sharp stink of her shit filled the air. I gagged at the fumes, then wiped my eyes and managed to open them to see my girlfriend displaying a long, solid turd that spanned the length, fingertip to wrist, of her open hand. Her smiling face, upside down from my point of view, was a couple feet above me.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked. "Beg to suck on it."

I whined and begged as my dick started to harden once again, amidst the insanity of pleading for a mouthful human waste. Finally, Za'ana raised her palm and tilted it about two feet over my face, and the fetid turd fell past my lips and slammed onto my tongue, but the softer top jackknifed and broke off, nearly hitting me in the eye and slid down my cheek. She retrieved the severed end and made a remark about a young wizard and laughed as she used the piss-moistened turd to paint a pair of circular glasses around my eyes and made a lightning bolt on my forehead. Suddenly she moved forward and I was able to watch her tits jiggle slightly inside the cups of the leopard print bra and then had a view of her navel as she leaned forward, still holding the wet turd in her hand. Surprisingly she began to suck on my semi-hard cock, making its thin brown coating shine once more, and I moaned loudly through my mouthful of crap, turning my head to either side occasionally to let the nasty juice drain out. Her lips made an incredible suction as my fatigued anal muscles flexed and throbbed against the dildo still buried deeply inside. My meat was nice and stiff as she smeared the mushy turd all over the head and shaft. She then had me extend my legs upward and together. Bending my knees, I could put my feet on the wall. The slight change in position felt great on my back. She moved away and then returned, backed up, placed her feet on either side of my head, and backed her hips toward my dick, which was pointed straight at her. I'll never forget what she said next.

"Beg for me to impale myself on your perverted circumcised cock! It's what you wanted isn't it? You nasty..." Za'ana switched to another language for the rest of her insults.

"Pleeth, Tha'ana! Pleeth! Pleeth!" I begged pathetically, my words inhibited by the huge putrid log in my mouth and then felt her hand guiding my dick into an opening. Based on the angle of her hips and the tight grip her slick hole had on the shaft of my meat, I realized she had stuffed me into her butt. She was finally letting me fuck her. We were in kind of a doggy style position, except that I was immobile and upside down.

"There!" she said rocking her hips, "Your cock is up my ass! Happy now, you sick, disgusting crybaby? Haven't you fantasized about sodomizing me?"

"Yeth! Yeth!" I said past the turd, holding her moving hips and trying to take it all in: The feel of her sphincter encircling and massaging my cock, the sight of her beautiful bronzed body crouched over above me, the sensation of the dildo up my sore rectum, the sounds of us both grunting, moaning and breathing heavily, the cool wetness of piss in my hair, and of course the feel, bland, alkaline taste, and intense stink of her excrement filling my mouth.

She had one hand on the edge of the tub for balance, and other furiously massaging her clit between her slightly parted thighs. She rode my cock, gasping and grunting, for what must have been ten minutes. I had never fucked a girl in the ass before, and I now knew what all the hype was about as her tight hole squeezed my meat. Her motions became more spastic, and I began to slide downward, making an awkward position even worse for her as she tried to keep riding my cock. Za'ana pulled away and raised her upper torso, and a loud gurgling echoed through the tub. Instantly a rapid succession of soft, cinnamon-colored turds splattered onto my dick, balls, and stomach, and immediately careened toward my face in an avalanche. She reached down and guided my shiny cock back into her ass and continued riding and rubbing her clit as I wore my turtleneck ski bib of sulfuric, swampy shit that extended to my cheeks. The soft mush found its way into my mouth, joining the darker log that still extended past my lips like a very fat cigar. I watched her stomach muscles flex as she seemed to be getting close to orgasm again.

Za'ana pulled up and away completely, leaving my brown coated stiff meat to throb in midair. A long, viscous teardrop of translucent, sepia slime hung suspended from her hole as it passed overhead. My view of the ceiling was only momentary as she spun around and her upside down face appeared once again. I watched with amazement as she frantically dove a hand into the soft shit that had gathered around my neck and scooped up a small batch. She then slipped her fingers into a cup of the leopard print bra, treating her tit to the dripping waste. She repeated the motion for the other side, the excess drizzling out onto my face. Suddenly she dove down and placed her mouth on mine. I expected a kiss but realized she there to reclaim her large turd, which was still projecting from my lips. She literally sucked it out and raised a hand to her jaw, let it drop into her palm and smeared the glistening shit all over her face below her eyes as she grunted and breathed heavily, the shoulder of her masturbating hand moving rapidly. My twisted girlfriend then used her free hand to guide one of mine up to her shit-filled bra directly over my face and made a squeezing motion. I quickly picked up on the message as I used both hands began to rub the thin material, feeling her through the mushy crap inside, forcing most of it out the sides. Instinctively I reached in, pushing the ruined leopard print cups aside, and pinched and pulled down on her solid, rubbery nipples.

The perspiring, shit-smeared beauty, then leaned forward and began to suck harshly on my balls, causing me to groan and protest in pain as she yanked on my already sore sack with her teeth. At the same time, she had pulled the dildo out of my ass and tossed it back and beneath her at my face. The rapid extraction hurt like hell because the pussy juice, shit and spit that kept it lubricated had begun drying up. I cried out as she ran her fingers around the irritated, aching rim of my stuck-open asshole, like she was swirling a cocktail. She raised her face from my nuts and smacked them around, sending brown spray flying. As I squirmed, grunted and cried out in reaction to the various forms of pain she was causing, Za'ana had several loud, jolting orgasms. I watched from beneath as her beautiful tanned body undulated with pleasure, her feces-plastered tits hanging out of the bra and pointing downward as they jiggled.

Afterward I slid down all the way so I was lying flat, and she semi-collapsed on top, facing me. We wallowed in the tub and kissed slowly for several minutes with our slathered, brown mouths and faces. I felt warm piss flowing around my hips as my girlfriend giggled and nonchalantly emptied her bladder once again. I never did get to shoot my second load, but said nothing, and soon let loose as well, letting the yellow liquid flow where it wanted. Gradually we arose for the long cleanup. Za'ana simply fell into bed naked, and I crawled in later, and whispered in French I loved her, but I guess she didn't hear me.





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 04



Note: This story is a continuation of the previous three and will be best understood if those are read prior. 









Days in Rodanthe Pt. 04



Za'ana reached into her discarded skirt and had me freshen my lipstick, and I smeared it on as best I could. She then spun around, her pony tails swinging, reached down to her rear and raised the blue stockings back up to her waist. She then poked her nails into the fabric, ripping it, and yanked violently on the opening. The beautiful brunette's bare, tan flesh bulged against the elliptical holes in the stretchy material as it gave way and split across her ass cheeks. She had worn no panties, and her gorgeous brown ass was backing toward me. I was still sitting back on my calves, the heels of the shoes rubbing against my naked, sore butt.

"Beg for more, you sick, nasty bitch!" she said, then spread her gorgeous cheeks, her manicured fingers depressing the dark, soft flesh where they grasped it. The broken-ended remnant of the first turd peeked out of her partially dilated hole. Her labia and the lower half of her rim glistened, lit from below. 

"Beg!" she yelled as the log slowly emerged. Random crevices crisscrossed its moistened dark surface, contrasted by a few light-colored spots. Its progress was restricted to about three inches by pressure from the expanded, protruding ring of darkly pigmented flesh surrounding it. The smell was sharp and strong, although my own breath had echoed her stink each time I exhaled, thanks to the 'dessert' I had just consumed.  



"Please oh please let me eat your shit, Za'ana," I whined in falsetto as one of her hands abandoned its grip on her dark flesh and two fingers pushed the sepia mass back into her body. She stomped her feet and shimmied her hips slightly, I guess at the pleasing sensation of pressure in her rectum. I felt blood begin flowing into my dick.  

"Awww! It's so beautiful! I want it!" I sounded really pathetic. "Why can't I have it? Pleeease?" 

The begging continued as she repeated the exit and reentry display, although the turd didn't project as far the second time and stubbornly seemed to resist being forced back inside.   

"Please oh please shit in my mouth!" I was bouncing, arms flailing as she looked back over her shoulder at me. 

Answering me angrily in a Middle Eastern language, she consented. Za'ana's ass crack, its less tanned skin, smooth and inviting in the strange light, quickly filled my field of vision and soon my nose was buried in its soft surrounds. I reached out and held the front of each of her upper thighs, grasping the stretchy material of the stockings. My meat began to twitch happily. I opened my lips and planted them firmly against her lower cheeks; a hint of her perfume was still detectable among the heavy fecal stench. My tongue instinctively reached out to taste the blandly bitter log, but was soon forced to retreat by the lengthy, warm, solid invader. I caressed her thighs and whined in extended high-pitched notes of twisted pleasure as I took it in and cradled it for several seconds, feeling it caress the roof of my mouth. I then pushed it between my molars, and slowly ground her putrid, dense turd into a gritty, pasty mush as my cock grew. I didn't even gag as I swallowed what was once an innocuous breakfast and lunch, before its trip through Za'ana's beautiful body.       

"Is my maird not delicious?" she said as I took a final gulp. "Don't you love my bowels?" 

I nodded and squeaked a positive reply, thanking her, my lips, chin, teeth, gums, tongue and palate coated with her rotten vegetable essence. I had probably built up enough tolerance to E-Coli by now that I could drink the water in any foreign country, I thought as I watched her asshole, glistening with smeared shit and red lipstick, and her quivering cheeks, unevenly framed by the torn stockings, move away in the moonlight. To my surprise, Za'ana picked up the waiting dildo and let its harness fall away. She turned to walk toward me, and I noticed the front center seam of the blue leggings had not ripped entirely up to the waistband as they had in the back. The stockings had split just enough to partially expose her labia, and they flexed from one side to the other as the opening varied with her movement, their brownish pink hue a contrast to the blue surrounding them. 

My enjoyment of the view did not last, as she stepped around beside me and bent down, looking at me with those gorgeous brown eyes, lit from below by the black flashlight that remained on the blanket. Her lips approached mine as I looked up at her. Instinctively I parted my lips to accept her always forceful tongue. A large excess of saliva shot out of her mouth into mine, its pinot noir taste only briefly detectable. She moaned loudly as we shared the sharp, slightly diluted taste of her shit for a several seconds. Suddenly she pressed back and down on my forehead, causing me to look up at the stars, mouth open. I could feel the wig slip a little and one of her knees pressing into my back. Her demanding touch felt great. Once again the lipstick appeared, and she quickly added to the thick coating that was already present. Again, my hopeful assumption that it was time to take it up the ass was wrong. The head of the dildo was the next thing I saw, then the shaft and her hand, as the latex cock descended past my open lips. I expected her to begin fucking the hell out of my mouth, but realized she had something else in mind as it continued to descend. 

"Take it deeply, you nasty, cocksucking whore!" Za'ana said through clenched teeth, her lips still smeared with shit from our kiss. She then began her usual tirade, this time I think in Russian. Twice she let go of my forehead, but only long enough to give me a quick slap on the cheek, switching back to English, repeatedly yelling "Take it!", all while holding the dildo, then resuming her pressure, keeping my throat straightened. 

Of course I began to choke almost immediately as she shoved the rubbery dick down further, twisting it slightly. My upper body convulsed violently as I noisily gagged and felt the orange titties bouncing and my stomach churning. My eyes watered and dripped down into my ears. My lips, surrounding the shaft, made involuntary flapping fart noises as air was forced out, flinging the snot now leaking out of my nose airborne. Just as I was about to spew, she pulled it out and released her grip, allowing me to face forward, choking and coughing. Thick strings of cola-colored spit dangled from the head of the dick, all of which glistened in the light, and I could feel slime hanging from my nose and jaw. 

"Beg for more, you disgusting bitch!" she yelled, smacking me. "I don't see your hands moving!"

Despite my outfit, I had forgotten about the girl act. So, I raised my arms like a poodle, and pathetically whined for more, admitting I was a disgusting, shit-eating, cock-hungry whore. I looked up and opened my feces coated mouth again, pointing to it and bouncing slightly. She slid the dildo down my throat again and my hands jolted to a mock surrender, then I spread my fingers and flexed my wrists loosely and shook them both rapidly like a baby bird as it descended. I moaned in a high a voice as possible, then had to beg again in gasping falsetto after the latex erection was extracted. Za'ana took me to the verge of puking a couple more times. My upper body, with the bra stretched tightly around, was cramped from the convulsions, and my chin was dripping with thick snot and saliva as I expressed, in the 'girl' voice, how much I loved gagging on cock. Finally she released her grip and pulled away. I thought the worst was over until she spoke. 

"Hold this right there." My girlfriend handed me the flashlight, and had me hold it up over my head, pointed down at my jaw. 

Suddenly my throat was filled again by the slimy rubber dick and my stomach wretched. The rigid latex cock stopped for a moment, then slid out, the brim of the head striking the back of my upper teeth on the way. I was beyond control and violently and loudly projected what seemed like a quart of stinking, horrible tasting vomit upward and back down onto my lower face and chest. It looked like a muddy volcano as the light momentarily shone through it. I could feel some of the warm, chunky, sticky liquid instantly soak into my shirt, while the rest cascaded off my fake breasts and splattered onto my dick, thighs and stockings. 

Za'ana immediately cried out in disgust at the smell, covering her nose with her forearm, still holding the dildo, slimy strings suspended from it and drifting in the breeze. She continued to comment in some language as she adjusted the light beam toward my coated face and forced the dildo past my lips again and down my throat, burning from the acidic vomit. I felt the lower flange of the rubber dick press against my nose for a moment before it jolted upward, followed by grunting convulsions and an overflowing mouthful of thinner, more bitter tasting puke. It was a less efficient ejection, and Za'ana kept my head tilted back as I choked on the liquid, deeply coughing and unable to breathe. Finally she released me and harshly jerked my head forward, but only long enough that my mouth emptied onto the ruined white stockings, briefly warming my thighs. The combination of sour digestive acid odor and the sulfuric feces that had been in my stomach was horrible. I hadn't smelled anything so awful since I had the flu and diarrhea simultaneously as a kid. She kept the pressure on my forehead as I looked toward the stars, face lit by the tiny spotlight. 



The dark night sky and the silhouette of Za'ana's exotic face above were a tranquil contrast to the chaotic sensations of the pain registering in my burning throat, the muscular fatigue in my throbbing and heaving chest cavity, and the discomfort of being soaked in my own putrid, viscous emulsion. I optimistically hoped that my submission to all of this was satisfying my first love more than any other man ever could. 

"Open!" 

Realizing what was next, I reluctantly spread my jaws as far as possible, causing the puke on my face to drain down the sides of my neck and inside the high collar of the shirt. Two of Za'ana's long fingers became enveloped by her shimmering dark lips. I braced myself for the worst, but my cock continued to grow at the idea of this extreme degradation. I continued to shine the light on myself.   

Her beautiful face contorted, brow lowered and eyes closed. A hollow gulping noise emanated from deep in her throat as her shoulders lurched and she bent forward, less that a foot from my open lips. She pulled her hand away from her mouth quickly and my eyes closed in reflex as my face was instantly covered with hideously putrid, thick, chunky vomit. I tried to let out a squealing protest, which was stifled as my mouth rapidly filled with the warm stew. I did the spastic baby bird motions again with my free hand as the wig slid off, weighted down with liquid. The differing, stale food and wine taste and stink made me gag once more. I could feel glop sliding down my cheeks, neck, into and behind my ears. One shoulder was now warm, coated as well. 

"Swallow!" she yelled, pressing my jaw shut. 



I loudly complied, gulping down the lumpy mouthful of horrible tasting mush. It stung my throat all the way down. I then snorted the puke out of my nostrils so I could breathe as I heard Za'ana laugh before plunging her fingers into her throat once again. Her second deluge was mostly liquid, successfully aimed once more at my open mouth. I tried to swallow as she grasped my jaw again but was in mid-breath and ended up coughing most of it out through her fingers. She harshly let go of my head, pushing it to the side and snatching the flashlight from me. I remained in place, facing down and to the side, eyes closed, nearly dizzy, noisily trying to clear my airway as the warmth of our combined stomach contents which coated the front of my body, faded quickly in the breeze. 

"Put that back on!" she yelled, referring to the wig, her voice raspy from the liquid in her throat. She began to noisily force up and spit her phlegm, I assume, at me, adding insignificantly to the sticky, reeking gastrointestinal soup I was already drenched in.  

Still unable to see, I clumsily felt around back behind me and grabbed the wig. It was soaked in puke. I placed it back on my head, and felt moisture on my shoulders as the remnants of my girlfriend's dinner dripped off it. Finally I wiped my eyes, and through a squint, saw she had torn open the front panel of the hose and was standing, legs widened, admiring her work and rubbing her clit. Za'ana's long dark fingers were glazed and dripping with vomit, fresh from their plunges toward her esophagus and where she held my dripping jaw shut. Strings of yellow spit hung from her chin as she began to moan and breathe heavily. The flashlight was once again lying on the blanket, but pointed at me. She stopped when she realized I was watching her. 

"You're not finished, you fucking whore!" She lunged toward me and crouched down, reaching toward my soaked shirt. My fake tits had a valley between them where cleavage should be, and it was filled with cooled puke, most of it the darker shade of my girlfriend's turd. She scooped an overflowing handful and held it to my chin. 

"Eat it, you sick bitch!" 

My mouth was already thick with the taste of vomit, but the lukewarm, lumpy mass she shoved into my mouth was still unpleasant as I chewed and swallowed loudly with exaggeration so she would see. Suddenly I felt the wet front of the shirt, now nearly transparent and stained a peanut butter color, being peeled off my stomach. Za'ana held the soaked top open and outward horizontally under my chin, displaying the extent of the vomit and fecal matter sticking to it. It looked almost like a hideous pizza. Most of the liquid began to flow to the center and drip through like a coffee filter into my bra and drain down my stomach toward my nearly stiff cock. The breeze was cool on my bare, damp skin. 

"I let you borrow my top and you fucking ruin it!" Za'ana pressed a palm upward under a large splatter and toward my jaw. "Clean it off!" 

I began to slurp up the gummy, putrid bits of food in various pre- and post- digestive stages clinging to the stained fabric. I continued for nearly another minute, and switched to using my own hands at her command. She pointed the light at my face and watched, commenting in a few languages what were probably insults. Besides lumps of shit, I frequently encountered fibrous vegetable remnants, still slightly crisp, seeds, nearly intact olive slices, and pieces of tomato skin, all suspended in a tart, slimy, bile-flavored sauce. She then began to make slurping noises and mock me in a falsely high voice.  

"Oooo! I'm Robert the nasty bitch! I dress like a girl and act like a whore! I love Za'ana's rubber cock and I love to eat her bowels and vomit!" She copied my flailing arm gestures and then switched to her own voice. "I don't hear you telling me how delicious it is, you nasty, ungrateful whore!" She smacked me so hard the wig flew off , and then took advantage of the missing hairpiece to strike me twice more, forcing me to lean to my right and nearly knocking me off balance. 

As I straightened up and replaced the soggy wig, the left side of my head throbbing, I looked up and saw the un-harnessed dildo and its belts flying toward my face. I caught it as it bounced off my nose. 

"Place it on me, you stinking whore!" 

I thanked my standing girlfriend excitedly and crawled over to her as a light rain of puke juice fell off me and onto the blanket. I slid the soft leather strap between her thighs, covering her tanned, beautiful, bare pelvis. She turned around so I could buckle the back above her jiggling ass cheeks, as remnants of the blue stockings clung to her hips. To my surprise, she stepped away and poured herself another cup of wine, upending and emptying the bottle. I realized how much I enjoyed the sight of her, beautiful and in charge, with the dildo sticking out. Along with the anticipation of being violated, my meat stiffened completely in the breeze. 

Still on my knees, I happily started whining to be fucked, and pivoted around, reaching back and grabbing my hairy ass cheeks to show her. I leaned forward and spread them, then felt the cool air in my crack. The head of my hard dick was getting dipped in a puddle of vomit as I groveled. I pleaded like a kid in a toy store, bouncing my hips and flexing my already lubed asshole. I began flailing my arms and telling her, in the high voice, how good it was going to feel to have her cock up my ass. 

"Okay whore, maybe I will allow you to stick it in your stinking hole for a few moments," she said, lying down on the blanket, face up and propped up on her elbows, sipping the wine. The rubber cock was pointed skyward, ready for me to straddle her and sit on it. 

Less than a minute later, lipstick once again reapplied, I was moaning loudly in falsetto, gushing about how awesome it felt as I rode quickly up and down on the dildo in a squatting position, facing her. I was really getting into it, leaning in different directions, arching my back, and occasionally pausing to rotate my hips in a small circle when the latex cock was only about halfway inserted, reaming out my happy rectum. Chills overtook me as I waved my arms, limp wrists sloppily flinging my hands in random directions. My meat was pulsing, nearly red and extended to its full length, but had lost enough rigidity to make it flop up and down with my hip motion, slapping my puke-coated lower stomach with each bounce. Wild shadows were created by the flashlight, which Za'ana had pointed right at my hole. After several minutes, to give my knees a break, I leaned back into a crab position, arms locked straight behind me, holding my body more or less horizontally as I rocked back and forth, joyfully satisfying my anal cravings. I began to cry out in short rhythmic high pitched tones, sounding like a porno movie overdub. After looking at the sky for several minutes as I rode, my cock flailing, I noticed Za'ana was sitting up, her white shirt completely unbuttoned and blowing in the breeze, revealing her white bra. Her nipples protruded, casting small, moonlit shadows onto the lacy cups.  

Apparently she thought I was having too good a time with the latex dick, because I felt her grab my bouncing nuts and slip something around the base, probably the necktie. A broad, satisfied smile from her was the only warning as my groin and lower stomach immediately cramped and I cried out in pain as she yanked violently. The slipknot made my captive nuts feel like they were going to burst, and I fell from my crab position. Za'ana shifted her hips at the same time, and the dildo flexed and sprung out of my spotlighted hole, flinging a sparkling mist of lube into the air. 

"I don't see your arms waving! Squeal like a girl!" 

The next couple minutes passed way too slowly has I writhed in agony on my back, trying my best to sound like a girl as she sat opposite me, keeping almost continuous pressure on my nuts. I flailed my arms and raised and spread my legs, covered by the drying puke-encrusted stockings and the heels pointed skyward, at her command. The worn leather sole of one of her loafers appeared, and intermittently kicked or pressed down, adding even more pressure to my balls. I did spastic flutter kicks with my elevated calves as my eyes watered from the pain. Still, I managed to watch her tugging and slapping her tits, exposed and overhanging the underwires of the white bra. Her free hand then released the strap-on harness. Za'ana began to moan and look upward as she frantically rubbed her clit. Soon she convulsed for about a half minute, breasts jolting. After her groaning orgasms, she released my aching nuts, but left the necktie looped around them. I laid there, trying not to break out into sobs. As the pain slowly lessened, I took in the sight of my gorgeous girlfriend. Her face, heaving stomach and chest glistened with perspiration as she rose to her knees. 




Days in Rodanthe Pt. 04



"Turn over!" she demanded, breathing heavily. "Open your legs!" 

I did as she said, and laid flat on my stomach, but propped myself up on my elbows, due to the oranges still slung in the black bra. My hard dick was forced up against my pubes and lower stomach. My view was now toward the yachts in the cove, and I wondered if they were watching us. I felt fingers sliding into my partially open asshole, rotating and flexing. I moaned as Za'ana spread it as wide as she could, mumbling comments, probably using the flashlight to look all the way up my digestive tract. Her visual curiosity apparently satisfied, I felt her slick, warm tongue begin caressing my rectal walls as I heard her masturbate, gasping and grunting with at least one more orgasm. Afterward, the cool air soothed my hole as her mouth pulled away.  

"I need to find a larger penis for you, whore!" she said, halfway laughing.

"Yes, please!" I answered as she demanded I turn over onto my back. My dick popped up as I faced the sky once again and throbbed as I thought about the progressively larger objects I would eventually be receiving, including her fist. She rose to her feet, her legs still enshrouded in the blue stockings. Za'ana was drenched in sweat, and was tossing her white shirt away, and reaching back to unhook her bra. 

"What are you looking at? You disgusting bitch!" she yelled, and reached down for the thin black belt. She coiled it up in her hands, freed breasts jiggling, surrounded by the impressions left in her skin by the bra. "You don't get a fucking show! Pull the shirt up over your eyes!" 

I followed her orders, and covered my sweating face with the stinking wet shirt, my pulse racing. Suddenly I felt her yank each of my arms over my head, and tie my wrists together and to something nearby, probably the branch of a shrub. It seemed like she had used her bra to tie my hands, as my restraints felt light but strong and stretchy. I was in the dark and helpless, with my cock exposed, and she was wielding that stinging belt. Through the translucent shirt I could make out her shadow as standing over me in the beam of the resting flashlight. I instinctively closed my legs and raised them to protect my meat. I felt a little panicky and began to squirm around, whining her name. 

"Quiet whore! Or I will go get the ball gag for your nasty mouth!" 

Suddenly I heard a snap of the belt and felt the pain of a welt forming across my inner thigh, inches from my balls. I cried out and started to feel dizzy. My hot breath inside the shirt made things worse, and I felt nauseous again. I just wanted to shower and hold a bag of ice on my nuts. My thoughts, however, came to a halt with her next question, which began with a frustrated, loud sigh, the first I had heard from her since we were in heavy Manhattan traffic. 

"Do you really love me, Robert?" she asked, her tone serious but not angry. "I did hear you say it last night. Or were you getting your jollies by lying to me?" 

"Yes I love you, Za'ana!" I said in my normal voice. 

"I don't believe you! Prove it." 

"Okay fine, I will!" I responded defiantly, unsure of what I had just gotten myself into. I had been on the loosing end of every deal so far.

"Robert, admit you are another lying male bastard and don't really love me, and I will untie your hands and allow you to fuck me starting right now and as much as you desire for the rest of our time here, during the day tomorrow as well, if you wish."  

The image of my cock plowing into her immediately filled my head. I wondered what the hell she was thinking. I should get to fuck her if I did say I loved her. She stepped over, bent forward at the waist and tugged my shirt down, so I could watch her caress her dangling tits and yank a nipple, which had retreated from full arousal back to its puffy round apex. 

"I will follow your orders," she continued, straddling my face, her legs still ensconced in blue, and sliding fingers between her labia. "My vagina is steaming hot and wet right now, and very tight from clenching during my orgasms. You can also fuck my asshole if you desire." She reached down and caressed the side of my face and looked into my eyes. She almost sounded like an ad for a phone sex line, with her slightly low voice and exotic accent. "Just confess that you were lying, Robert, or even that you said it in the heat of the moment, and you don't actually love me. I won't be angry." She displayed two shiny fingers after they exited her pussy, and I could almost feel the heat radiating from them as she pulled the shirt back up to block my vision. Then she tapped the belt on my stomach, waiting for me to speak. 

"You won't admit it?" she said angrily. "Then if you really love me, raise and spread your legs so I can whip your asshole, testicles and pink circumcised cock. I'm tired of the sight of them, and they will be of no further use to me on this vacation." Her voice and accent sounded villainous as she slid the noose off my aching nuts. They felt even more exposed. The edge of the belt traced lightly in a circle around my genitals, tapping my shaft occasionally. We only had one more night on the island, and I wasn't sure what she had planned for the next day that didn't involve at least my rectum.  



I sat motionless, trying to decide if this was another trick or not. I wondered if she had a submissive side, and if I was supposed to take advantage of it. I made my choice. Trembling, I slowly spread and raised my thighs and feet, while my stupid cock, which apparently had a death wish, throbbed at full attention, tilted back toward my face, underside up. I was vulnerable, exposed in a way most women never see their men. My pulse raced as I blurted it out, bracing for the pain. "I'm not lying! I do love you!" Overwhelmed, I began to cry. "Go on! Whip my cock raw!" I sobbed a couple times, then calmed myself as best I could. This was going to hurt like hell, but I was consumed by thoughts of her and had to prove myself. 

Za'ana remained silent, and the belt continued to tap my groin and trace along my ass crack. I sniffled for what seemed like several minutes. Expecting searing agony, I jumped as a foreign sensation touched the underside of my dick, but instantly realized it was her mouth, wet and forcefully licking. She pushed me legs down and I heard a long moan from her as her lips surrounded my upper shaft, twisting the skin like a corkscrew as she descended. I gasped as her warm, slick tongue began to massage my throbbing, stiff meat. 

All too quickly, it was over. I felt air on my wet dick as she withdrew, and pulled my shirt down so I could see, but left my stomach and black bra exposed. Her stunning brown eyes were looking straight at me. Her face was even more mysterious in the pale moonlight. She slowly smiled. 

"Robert sweetie, I love you too, you nasty, perverted bastard!" she said with a laugh. They weren't the words and it wasn't the situation in which most women told someone they loved them, but obviously Za'ana wasn't like most women. We kissed chaotically for several seconds, reactivating the horrid taste in my mouth. None of this was a guarantee she wouldn't still flog my straining meat, but I was hopeful.

Za'ana arose from her crouching position and faced away, straddling me, her thighs spread and knees bent. The exotic beauty's brown ass hovered over my midsection in the moonlight, and her labia were backlit by the distant flashlight. She grunted, released a sputtering, low-pitched fart, and simultaneously began a forceful stream of golden piss onto my stomach. The warm, splashing deluge continued as a finger-thick turd began to quickly slide out of her hole. The cinnamon-colored, loose shit made a descending curve as it exited, before stretching downward to nearly a foot in length. It passed through the path of the urine before hitting me above the navel in a coiled heap with a warm, wet splat. The pungent stink, evidence of my girlfriends recent intake of onions and curry, overpowered the scent of the drying puke sticking to my face and shirt. Her cheeks bounced as she shook off the last hanging blob of shit, then spun around and dropped to her knees, then laid on top of me, and we kissed while she wallowed in the cooled urine and smeared feces on my stomach. Za'ana again teased me with her tits, inaccessible to my hands, since I was still tied at the wrists. After she ventured close to my mouth and pulled away several times, I was finally allowed to suck a blob of glistening, soft-serve crap off each nipple as she rubbed her legs on my stiff dick.    

The following several minutes were heavenly. Za'ana untied my hands and had me spotlight my aching meat as she rubbed the piss-and-shit emulsion all over it and began to blow me. She was noisy and fast, her dark lips coated with crap and constantly flexing, ponytails and their pink ribbons drifting the breeze. She paused a few times to swallow me whole and remain there, sliding her tongue into the divide between my nuts. The beautiful brunette hummed and grunted gutturally, vibrating my cock into a frenzy. Finally I came, blasting an awesome feeling load down her throat. I thought maybe I had escaped consuming my own semen until her plunging fingers reappeared and she made herself yak up a thick, stringy, sperm-and-slime cocktail, which she spat and let drain off her pointed tongue into my open mouth. After more bizarre tasting kisses, Za'ana hopped up and had me rise and kick off my high heels, a welcome relief. I then followed her partially down the creaking stairway to the beach. She surprised me as she stood beneath me on a lower level of the switchback stairs. 

"Piss on me Robert! All over!" the exotic beauty said, stepping out of the ruined blue stockings. 

I was surprised, but more than happy to grant her request with what seemed like the quart of piss in my bladder. I grabbed my dick, leaned over the railing slightly, and hosed my naked girlfriend down thoroughly. The moonlit view of her jiggling tits and ass, crisscrossed with wet and shiny trails, was awesome as she caught some in her open mouth, then squealed, jumped and spun around like she did every time she stepped into the ocean. 

I slid off the remnants of my smelly, crusty, schoolgirl outfit and joined her for a swim a few cabins away, where the cove wasn't so rocky. We stayed in the shallows and kept it quick, not wanting to become shark food. After we emerged, Za'ana pushed me down and we kissed, rolling around and coating ourselves in the gritty sand, then rinsed off again before a breezy jog back to the cabin.     







Days in Rodanthe Pt. 05



Note - There are full names in this segment, but they are fictional and random, and only used to maintain a degree of realism. 

In the last chapter, my parents and brother had just walked in on me and my topless girlfriend as we were lounging around my dorm room. I had just spent the most insane, depraved, and thrilling week of my life with her. 







Days in Rodanthe Pt. 05



"Piss Robert." 

It felt good releasing the twenty ounce coffee I drank on the way, even if the spray was directed up and all over my own stomach by my girlfriend's latex covered fingers. Then I was shocked to feel her hand jerking my meat, slick with wet crap.  

"Don't you dare orgasm or I will leave!" she said, twisting and rubbing me nice and stiff. 

I hadn't come in three weeks, so getting fully hard was quick. With my hands taped to my head, I must have looked like an arrested suspect, except getting a hand job. I moaned from beneath my cocoon of shit and red plaid cotton.   

She soon let go and told me to walk forward. I walked on the gently sloped floor toward the deeper end of the pool, hard dick leading the way. Soon I was wading into what felt like a cold, slimy algae pond. Luckily, she gave me the command to stop while the water was halfway up to my knees. It smelled like swampy, rotting vegetation.        

"Oh you look so cute!" she said condescendingly. "That bra looks good on you!" Her voice came from up on the pool deck. "Turn toward me. Okay now dance like a stripper Robert! Widen your legs! Thrust your pink cock outward! That's right! Swing it around!"

I'm not a good dancer, and it was obvious as I did my best to imitate the few movements I had seen of male strippers in the movies. My feet splashed the nasty water all over and my dick and nuts flopped around. Sadly, I think I was worse at trying to be a tempting muscle hunk than I was at prancing like a sissy. Suddenly a rock hit my inner thigh and I grunted in protest. 

"I'll teach you not to grab my ass without permission, you fucking bastard!"

Even if I hadn't grasped her cheek after the fart, she would have found some excuse for the animosity. The neglected landscaping of the motel included white marble chips, stained by age, at the bases of its unkempt bushes, and my girlfriend was evidently stoning my dick with them as I moved. The thought excited it further, and it stayed hard and flailing as I kept spastically moving around, flexing my hips and feeling idiotic. She occasionally told me to freeze and thrust my hips forward, so my stiff meat was a stationary, projecting target, throbbing madly.   

The rocks painfully hit me from ankle to my raised arms, but most were near my pelvis. Several glanced off the shaft of my bouncing meat. She cursed loudly, and vented her frustration in at least four languages. Za'ana must have grown impatient as I soon felt salvoes of multiple rocks sailing at me, several causing me to yell inside my shit-filled mask. The thrill of the initial danger was wearing off and I was getting overheated. It was hard to breathe with the tight bra and through my nose only. My sweaty head made melted fecal trails that began to trickle down my neck and drip off my chin. 

The sharp rocks now littered the pool floor and my spastic dance show came to an abrupt halt when I stomped hard on two of them in succession with each foot and fell painfully onto my hip with a thud and a splash. Trying to stand, I took a few more hits right to my hanging, exposed sack before I realized Za'ana had run around and was throwing from the other side of the pool. The pelting continued, and the more I grunted and yelled from inside the sweaty, turd-soaked boxers the more the sadistic woman laughed. Gradually I stood, at her mercy, breathing heavily. Suddenly I heard the squeak of what sounded like a faucet, Then felt a blast of water on my back.

"You need a bath, shithead!" 

She probably was counting on colder weather so the hose would add to my discomfort, but it actually felt good on my overheated body, and I was glad to have the slimy pool gunk rinsed off. Whatever her intent, she soaked me thoroughly from the chest down, making sure the forceful stream hit my balls several times. Unfortunately I had to keep the soaked bra and sweaty fecal mask on after the deluge ended and as I was verbally guided out of the pool, dripping wet. 

We reached one of the buildings and I heard a door open, and I was led out of the sun and into what I first thought was one of the guest rooms. My bare feet were still on concrete, however, and I realized I must be in the maintenance room next to the office.  

"Bend forward, you disgusting masturbator!" 

A slap echoed through the room as my ass instantly stung. Before I could catch my breath, I was paddled again by something broad and flat. From the metallic sound it made I guessed it was a snow shovel. A couple marble chips that had become lodged in the cups of the green bra fell to the floor.  

"At dinner I should have told your family about how I caught you playing with your penis, and how you love displaying your cock jerking talents for me!" she said teasingly after a couple more stinging slaps. "Do they know how you love things shoved up your asshole?" 

I grunted a 'no' and shook my head, then suddenly felt the end of a wooden handle, slick with her saliva, sliding into my anus, pushing aside the wet crumbs of shit that had congregated there in my pubes.

I moaned as she gyrated the far end of the handle to expand my hole. It felt great, and I got the chills and my dick began to grow out of its cold water shrinkage, knowing my beautiful girlfriend was penetrating me. I sensed an increase in the rate of her breathing, and assumed she was rubbing her clit.    

"Do you like this, you sick pervert?" she asked with labored breath after a couple minutes, ardently ramming the handle in, out, and around, jolting my genuflected torso around with her motions as I hummed a 'yes'. 

Next I felt her stand beside me, straddle my thigh and teasingly rub her crotch on the side of my hip. She started yanking on my meat with her other hand, still with the glove on as I moaned loudly. Unfortunately she stopped after several seconds. 

"Look at you, getting your circumcised pink cock nice and hard again! Time to walk outside! I will steer you by your asshole!" 

I really didn't want to go outside again, but was guided back onto the rough, cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Walking bent over, the sun warmed my back and the bra traversing it, with my girlfriend holding the plunger handle in my rectum like a tiller. It would have been quite a pathetic show if anyone was watching. Za'ana insisted I make zooming noise since I looked like a 'little airplane', with my elbows extended like wings. We made two uncomfortable couple laps around the back of the lot, pausing only so she could kick me in the nuts from behind a few times. She spat on my ass and back repeatedly. 

I was able to see a little light peripherally as I stumbled around, and suddenly I was in a shadow and realized she was steering me right into the side of my truck. I braced for a collision but luckily only hit the tire, but it still hurt. Finally we arrived back in the room, my head throbbing a little, saliva dripping off me. 

"Let's see what other tools we can find, you prancing cocksucker." 

Za'ana tilted the plunger up and I felt another spit-coated handle forcing its way into my ass beneath it. She mumbled something about a broom as I groaned loudly, taking both handles in my throbbing hole. This new visitor seemed longer and heavier, and then they both moved randomly in different directions as I cried out from under the plaid cotton mask at the uncomfortable, increased stretching. After a couple minutes more she spoke. 

"Very good. Now step over here." She guided me, still with the broom, dragging on the floor, and plunger handle stuck up my throbbing anus, several limping steps away until my thighs bumped into the edge of a small dresser or night stand. "There we are!" Her touch, even though somewhat clinical with the gloves, felt great. Each of my legs was against a different side so I was facing into the corner at an angle. My sack was draped over something cold and metallic. I felt Za'ana's hand rotating something and my pulse raced as I realized I was straddling a bench vise that was secured to the piece of furniture. 

"Have you ever heard the expression 'nuts in a vise', Robert?" 

This was getting serious. I then felt her fingers, still covered in latex, hold one of my nuts, already sore from the pelting rocks, in the jaws of the vise, carefully placed so it wouldn't slip out. I heard the crank rotate as the pressure increased, and I could feel the rough metal surface dig into my skin as the contents of the testicle compressed. She moaned with pleasure and I gritted my teeth and cried out, gyrating my head around. The pulsing pain radiated up into my stomach. Humming rhythmically, Za'ana sounded like she was happily rubbing her clit. The pressure lessened, then increased again, and I could feel my eyes filling with tears. It felt as bad as getting kicked hard. I started to sound like I was hyperventilating, and she backed it off. I exhaled with relief, until she spoke. 

"Now the other one!" 

She repeated the process, and I endured another few minutes of slowly increasing and decreasing pressure, tearfully vocalizing my discomfort from beneath my makeshift headgear. I almost screamed as she flicked a finger several times onto the captive testicle. I convulsed so violently the handles in my ass flew around behind me and finally slid out, landing on the floor. As I heard my girlfriend gasp with an orgasm, I reminded myself to talk to her about a safe word when this was all over. 

After her moaning tapered off, Za'ana cranked the vise open, relieving the pressure, but quickly stuffed both my sore balls into the open space below the jaws then tightened them again , crimping the loose skin between them and my body, practically immobilizing me. While a huge relief from the pressure, it was still uncomfortable, as any movement wrenched my already throbbing sack. My semi-hard dick was resting on the top of the cold metal jaws. 

"It's very warm in here. I'm going to take off this top," she said, still somewhat out of breath. 

I felt her bare, rubbery nipples rub on my back for several seconds as tantalizing proof she was topless. Then I felt Za'ana slowly stroking my cock with a spitty latex hand again while she caressed and slapped my ass cheeks. It felt great and I could feel my load start building, despite the torture. 

"You are loving this you nasty pervert!" she said, stopping after a twenty strokes or so. "Mmm, let's see what else we can find in here!" 

A metallic snap echoed through the room. My suspicions were confirmed as I felt the somewhat dull, opposing blades of a hedge trimmer on my arm. My girlfriend was teasing me with them, pressing them lightly on my arm near my elbow. 

"I should be wearing a goalie's mask." She said as I felt the foot-long blades work their way in between my legs from behind, surrounding my captive scrotum. 

While the intriguing mental image of her topless, in skin tight black pants, wielding hedge clippers and wearing a hockey mask flashed across my brain, my pulse raced even higher as paranoia crept it. How well did I really know this woman? I only knew what she told me. She could have been a serial killer. Even if everything she said was all true, there was nothing preventing her from escalating the torture, hacking me to pieces and dumping me into the huge hole in the ground next door at the old gas station. I had an unexpected female visitor this past week, one she wouldn't have approved of, and I hadn't told her about. Had she found out what happened somehow? Maybe that was the reason for her bad mood. Dozens of scenarios flashed through my head as I felt the trimmers widen against the insides of my thighs, and slowly close again several times. The pinching became painful, causing me to jerk my head around and yell from inside the hot gooey mask of fecal mush. The sweat had been slowly been loosening the tape's hold on my arms and neck, but I didn't dare try to escape and risk further wrath.   

The dull blades slid out from between my legs, and she teased me with them, tracing around my body. I was relieved until I felt them on the underside and top of my throbbing shaft. Za'ana started with the head then worked her way back, gently opening and closing the blades, but not enough to do damage. My dick must have looked like a sausage held by chopsticks. Then I began to tremble a little when I felt only the lower blade on the underside of my dick, and point of the other blade touching just under my ribcage up near the cup of the bra. I realized she could slam down on the upper like a guillotine and it would be bye-bye cock. Then I was shocked to feel her warm, wet mouth on me, sucking and tonguing my dickhead noisily. The angle lifted my meat off the lower blade while her lips drove me into a frenzy. My load was getting close. Moments later her mouth and the hedge trimmers were suddenly gone. She snapped the blades closed loudly up near my ear for emphasis. 

There was a long pause, and I could hear Za'ana humming industriously. I was trying to determine what she was doing when a short electrical buzz sounded from in front of me. At first I thought it was a vibrator. Then I hoped my second guess was wrong.  

"Hey, look what I found!" Za'ana said, a little out of breath, as the high amperage, loud motor of a full size circular saw buzzed again as it began to torque. The saw, very close to me, came to life, whirring with a deceptively smooth, high pitched song. My girlfriend had been watching way too many horror movies. 

I tried to stay calm. This woman was carrying the games too far. I fought the instinct to try and free my hands and slide my balls backwards out of the vise. I couldn't see where the spinning blade was and could lose a finger.



Suddenly the saw screamed loudly and the wooden furniture vibrated violently as the blade cut into it and I could hear Za'ana yelling in some language over the cacophony. She made several cuts, and I could smell the hot, burned wood, even over the stink of my shit mask. 

Moments later the saw spun to a stop. Before I could protest, it started up again, and its hum grew closer. I could feel the top plastic housing that surrounded the blade bump against my spandex-covered chest. I trembled as I felt the airflow from the saw's wailing motor on my damp, sweaty skin. I this position, if the lower guard was intentionally held open, the lethal, spinning steel blade was right over my exposed boner, which was sitting helplessly on top of the vise as if it was on a chopping block. 

Next I felt the saw move away and heard its motor wind down. I breathed a sigh of relief that Za'ana's scare tactic was over, and she began to suck on my throbbing dick again, cursing and spitting on my thigh when she encountered bits of sawdust that had landed on my shaft. All too soon she stopped and the damn saw started up again. I felt it descending slowly down my torso, then raise back up, only to descend again, each time closer to my about-to-explode cock. Meanwhile I slowly tried to free my hands from under the shit mask, but accidentally covered my nose. Eventually I felt the metal side frame of the saw drop past my navel. Its movements were suddenly erratic as if she lost control. Or maybe she hadn't.  

Sure, I trusted her, I told myself, but what if it slipped? Visions of my bloody dick flying across the room and slapping against the wall, or Za'ana yanking my severed meat away from my body with reddened teeth flashed through my pounding head. I knew had to break away, but had trouble catching my breath. The room began to spin as I lost my bladder, or so I thought. I realized her recent sucking and this ultimate risk to my cock had me orgasm, pumping out a huge load. At the same time I finally worked my hands loose and began to peel off the soggy, shit coated boxers, but it was too late. She must have found out about Constance, my unexpected visitor. It suddenly occurred to me that meeting that blonde could have been a set up by my devious girlfriend to test me, and I failed the test. The saw had fallen way below my waist. The room spun even faster. I felt sharp metal digging into the flesh of my dick as I passed out.  





Days in Rodanthe Pt. 05



"I'm Constance Brewster, Treasury Department." The blonde pulled a notebook PC out of a backpack. "We need to talk about your girlfriend." 

I wondered why another branch of the government wanted information from me on one of their own. Something felt really wrong. My first instinct was to protect my lover and play dumb. 

"Yeah, right," I snorted. "I don't have a girlfriend." I tried to mentally take myself back to the previous year, when I was shot down repeatedly by women of all varieties and my sex life consisted of internet porn and subsequent jack off sessions in the dorm's bathroom stalls in the middle of the night. 

"Girlfriend, skank, whore, call her whatever you want. Zamira Svetlana Al-Surkhandarya St. Pierre."

"You got the wrong guy. There's guys hooking up with Indian girls all over campus," I said, intentionally referring to the wrong region of Asia. "I never heard of her. Is she in one of my classes or something?" 

"She's an arrogant, diva bitch, goes by Za'ana, acts like a spoiled Persian princess. Likes her boyfriends to be little-dicked, wimpy douchebags...total pussies. You don't know her? Mmm..." 

I'm sure the insults were intended to get a reaction out of me but I just shrugged. My six and a half inches wasn't huge but it wasn't 'little' either. For a split second I thought I had Constance convinced. Her blue bra strap on one shoulder was exposed, partially covering a faint tan line, and she caught me looking at it. 

"Like my tan? Not bad for this time of year, huh? St. Martin does have some beautiful beaches," she said, pulling her top and the strap to the side for a moment. She slid the material down her well-developed deltoid further than necessary, past her armpit, to expose a little of the outward sloping, lighter area that would have been covered by a bikini top. "I almost got rid of these white lines, but I can't stay naked in the sun as long as you guys. By the way, thanks for the trip. It was very...educational." Constance's brows raised and her blue eyes flashed as she smirked and re-covered her shoulder. . "I saw things I never imagined." 

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The whole Goddamn government knew my secret. My worst fear had been realized and my brain spun with thoughts of sheer panic. I felt like puking. At the same time I realized why she looked familiar. I must have seen her at one of the restaurants or on one of the beaches on St. Martin as she stalked us. Maybe I even had a cell phone picture of her on the beach. No matter. Now everyone knew I was a freak.  

"Relax, no one has reviewed any of the...compromising...images or audio but me, yet," Constance said, passing me the open notebook PC after typing on it for a moment with acrylic nails, colored to match her lips.  

A case file number appeared, then a slideshow began, showing a young Za'ana with a private school uniform on, then as a teen with braces, short hair and a black prom dress, holding a beer. Several snapshots of my girlfriend, in Royal Army gear and then her official NYPD portrait, and finally a Bureau ID photo, flashed on the screen. Then I saw both our driver's license images, a shot of us standing in an airport line, and hugging in my parent's front yard just two days prior. Brief videos then appeared of us at an outdoor café on St. Martin, and as Za'ana cavorted topless on the deck of our cabin one afternoon when we returned from beach. I remembered that day. My girlfriend had intentionally worn only running shorts as she talked in French to a pair of dreadlocked motel repairmen down on the grass, possibly to test my possessiveness, but maybe she was just enjoying the carefree attitude of the island. On the laptop screen, her tits were pixilated to a blur and fluctuating square boxes surrounded each face and numbers flashed in the margin below, probably facial recognition software in action. So far there was nothing incriminating.

That quickly changed as the blonde took the notebook, typed again, handed it back, and I felt her judgmental eyes on me. There they were, telescopic photos of me on the cold hillside in the Pennsylvania woods, pants off, bent over, being spanked by Za'ana and her red belt. Constance must have been in the mysterious car that I saw downhill and dismissed as unimportant that day. It got worse. Short clips of green-tinted night vision spy video ran of me in a bra and panties munching on Za'ana's turds, and us making out with our shit-filled mouths. Then in color with muffled sound, several seconds of the view into the room the next night as I was in the boa, stockings, and garter belt, taking the exotic beauty's strapped-on dildo in the ass doggie style, loudly begging for more.

Despite how awesome it was seeing my stunning girlfriend pounding my hole, I couldn't watch anymore. My head hurt. I handed the PC back to her before the puke-covered, sissy schoolgirl clips started. I stared down at the dried mud smeared on the floor of the van. There was a long pause.  

"You must be really stupid or really in love with her," Constance said. "I hear she can be quite charming, at least in public." The blonde's aspirin tablet-sized nipples had pushed outward against the thin bra and top, either from the cold or her excitement at torturing me. I was apparently an expert at attracting sadistic women.  

"What the fuck do you want?" I asked. "Is she just posing as an agent or something? Because I don't care if..." 

"Oh, she's a real agent, alright. It's her extracurricular activities that concern us. That's where you will get inside and help us." 



Constance went on to explain that they suspected my lover was part of an international counterfeiting ring, using her job as a cover. I remembered the like-new cash in Za'ana's drawer at the B&B in Rodanthe, and her mention of visiting Argentina during the upcoming summer, but being part of such a conspiracy just didn't seem like something my girlfriend would do. My role was to find out as much as I could about Za'ana's plans or family visits, or ideally, place bugging devices in their apartments and install spyware programs. I was handed a small pouch with several types of flash drives and what looked like tiny black transistors inside. All I had to do was reboot the devices with the drives plugged in for two minutes, then remove them, or place the bugs behind picture frames or under chairs, just like in the movies.

The blonde handed me a slip of paper with a secure e-mail account I was to access from school or library computers to keep her informed about anything I had planned with Za'ana and everything about her traveling, friends or family. It also had a toll free number to call if I felt my life was in danger. Just great. This was a serious mess I had gotten myself into, all because of my horny dick. If I hadn't been so eager to please the beautiful, mysterious stranger Za'ana and jerk off in front of her that first time in Rodanthe, I wouldn't be in this predicament. I wondered about the legality of Constance's spyware and bugs, but didn't protest. It looked like I had to serve two mistresses now.   

Of course if I refused to help the blonde agent, mentioned any of this to Za'ana, made slow progress or even broke up with my girlfriend, smug Constance implied that videos of me in drag, riding a dildo or eating a log out of my girlfriend's asshole, among others, would find their way to the internet, especially the ISPs at school and in my hometown. Za'ana's 'psychologically abnormal perversion', her scat fetish, would be revealed as well, essentially ending her government career.  

"Blackmailing bitch," I muttered at Constance in response to her threats. I was extremely pissed off.  

"Persuasion, Mr. Voss, persuasion. Or is it Miss Voss?" She raised her brown eyebrows again, the telltale sign that she was not entirely a blonde. Her question also revealed she understood nothing about submissive men.  

"Fuck you." I mumbled. I wanted to tell her she would never have a man as dedicated as I was to my lover, but kept my mouth shut. I unintentionally glanced down at the holstered gun under her left arm, nestled beside her tit. By this time, several random satellite bumps surrounding Constance's erect nipples had made an appearance as well. 

"I don't know," she began, "if you're looking at my breast or my gun, weirdo. Try to touch either and the compound arm fractures I'll inflict will be healing in a federal prison. You'll only be able to see your girlfriend through thick glass for a long time. They don't allow conjugal poop eating or strap-ons, so she'll just find some other chat room looser to be her bitch and human dildo, just like you replaced the last one."  

"Are we done? I have to get to the gym before class." I replied stoically, resisting the urge to tell her to fuck off. I must have a face that says 'threaten me' to female cops. 

I hadn't really thought about Za'ana's previous men, and my insecurities came rushing back as they let me out of the van. It was true; there were drooling pervs all over the internet that would love to shit themselves just for a look at Za'ana naked, just like I did. But I really couldn't picture her hanging out in femdom chat rooms to find a boyfriend either. Maybe I was just a rebound turd muncher to her, although she said more than once I was the only one she ever shared her shit fetish with. But Constance's comment seemed to indicate she thought we met online and didn't know about Za'ana's time in Rodanthe. I said nothing and stomped away from the van toward the gym. I found it really easy to do the free weights that morning, working off the anger. 

As a small measure of revenge, that night I was looking through random shots I took in St. Martin, and found 11.6 seconds of sneaky cell phone video of gymnast-bodied Constance. She was wearing nothing but a baseball hat, a fanny pack and the same gold necklace. She was apparently doing her 'surveillance', posing as a lone tourist, strolling nude on the shore at Orient Beach. A winged heart was tattooed on her hip not far from her closely trimmed brown bush. As promised, tan lines crossed her pelvis, and her tits, pulled down slightly and apart into their natural state by gravity, were framed by angular, pale patches as well. The blonde's nearly two inch-diameter areolas were only a bit more pigmented than her fair skin, pink, smooth and slightly conical as they swayed from side to side in the tropical sun. 







Days in Rodanthe Pt. 06



In the last chapter, I had spent a humiliating, painful and emotional morning with my beautiful, captivating girlfriend. I went to her, even though she may be a criminal. Despite her moments of cruelty, I was upset when she threatened to leave abruptly and tearfully begged her to stay; I am so hopelessly possessed. Now I was dressed like a nearly naked girl, dick hard, prancing across a closed motel parking lot to find out what further surprises awaited me.

1

As I stepped outside into the sunlight I saw no power equipment was waiting, a good sign. The curtains moved in the room my girlfriend occupied, no doubt she was checking on my compliance. As I began to skip and flail my arms and make limp wrist gestures, a couple loud semi-trucks rumbled by the motel entrance, gearing down for the interstate ramp ahead. Hopefully none of the drivers would look over and notice me, cock hard, prancing around in nothing but heels and a very short nightgown.

As I flitted along, stiff meat and balls dancing, I looked around and saw nothing but the thick forest that surrounded the derelict motel, and wondered if Constance was still stalking us. I doubted it; she had more than enough video already to blackmail me into doing her dirty work forever, and this dump in the Poconos was not an exotic destination like the Caribbean. I had e-mailed her everything I knew so far, and the blonde agent was pleased to hear that Za'ana wanted me to come live with her in Manhattan this summer. I tried not to think about all that, I just wanted to be with and please my crazy girlfriend.

The orange door to my destination was ajar, its plywood veneer split from age. The room, like the other, was furnished in antiques from the seventies. The drapes were shut but all the lights were on. Two unmade beds sat against the side wall, which was covered in cheap wood grain paneling. Za'ana was stunning as usual, lying on her side on the bare mattress, dressed kind of like a cocktail waitress in a cropped white peasant blouse and a short black skirt. Also in white, high platform shoes were strapped to her feet and a wide headband held her long, wavy, raven hair off her gorgeous face. The outfit showed off her tan shoulders, midsection and legs. My dick twitched just from looking at her. I couldn't believe I had been having sex, however twisted, with this beauty. The scent of her perfume was heavy in the air. Her eyes, accented by full makeup, flashed as she spoke.

"Lie down, you fucking disgusting sissy masturbator!" She yelled indignantly, as if I had known in advance what her demands would be. Her improved mood during lunch had eroded quickly.

She stood and had me lie on the center of the bed face up, arms stretched completely out to the side. My hands overhung each edge of the mattress.

Continuing her recent fascination with tools, she picked up a pair of flush-cutting pliers. My dread of more blade play diminished when she grabbed a spool of white lamp cord that had been out of sight on the floor. "I wasn't planning on this, but you seem to have a problem controlling your hands today, you nasty cocksucker! I'll deal with your lack of control of your penis later."

As I was being restrained, it was awesome seeing her cleavage and watching her braless tits undulate within the gauzy white top that was sheer enough to just barely reveal her areolas. Za'ana tied each of my wrists to the bed frame below and snipped off the excess wire. I could move, but only slightly.

She stood and looked up and down the bed for several seconds, then seemed to have flash of inspiration. Whatever it was could not have been good for me.

She began by looping the electric cord in a full circle around my sack, then pulling both ends lengthwise up my stomach under the nightgown and then out the arm holes to my shoulders. They were then anchored on my upper arm near my pits. If I moved one arm or the other more than a couple inches, the tension transferred down to my scrotum, yanking my balls uncomfortably upward. She then positioned my legs, thighs parted just enough to give her knee room to pummel my lassoed nuts. Knots graced both my ankles as each foot, still jammed into a high-heeled pump, was tied down like my wrists.

"Good. Now you can't fuck things up."

So, there I laid, nearly immobile, wearing some teenage girl's discarded slumber party attire, hard dick upright. My girlfriend slapped my stiff meat back and forth several times and then my face twice, spitting on my cheek afterward.

"Do you like my nightgown?" she asked, referring to the pastel yellow cotton that covered my chest

"Yes, of course," I replied; I did feel pretty nasty wearing it. "Is it really yours?" I asked, my face stinging.

"It was my sister's, then mine. We slept many summer nights in it, developing breasts and dreaming of future boyfriends. Years later I ruined the matching panty when I filled it with shit, masturbating while home alone during my first leave from the army." She smiled at the memory. "Are you ready for your surprise, bitch?"

"Yes." I had no idea what she had in mind, as her onion-scented saliva drained down my cheek. She repeated her question, insisting I beg for her gift, which I did while the image of her soiling herself occupied my thoughts. Then she spoke.

"Good! He's been in the restaurant all morning, and now he's waiting in the bathroom," she said, smiling with the same smug expression she had in St. Martin when I was led to believe she was going to fuck someone else right in front of me.

No! My stomach soured. I hoped this day would never come. She brought a guy with her, and they were going to screw on the other bed while I laid here in a baby doll outfit, bound by lamp cord, dick involuntarily hard because she would insist I see everything. Her guest had probably been watching me take her abuse all morning, the reason for the boxer blindfold. Tears began to pool in my eyes. At least I had been able to have some awesome sex with her alone before she started blatantly fucking other guys. Maybe she had been doing other men all along. Hell, she could have been married with kids for all I knew. Constance was right, I was a stupid looser. My mind raced, my stomach in knots.

"You will love this!" she continued, stepping over to check her face and hair in the dresser mirror, then reach into her top and tug on her nipples. She grabbed a wooden chair, apparently confiscated from the diner, and placed it next to the bed near my hip.

Confused, I had no idea what the chair was for. Za'ana crawled onto the other bed and paused in a doggie position, resulting in a great cleavage view, but I almost didn't care about that visual as she called out in French to the waiting male in the bathroom, saying something about 'wanting inside her pussy'.

There was no response, and she called out again. She made a quizzical grunt and arose. I watched her hips sway in the skirt as she stepped across the room. Hips that some undeserving bastard was going to grasp as he fucked my girlfriend any minute now.

Za'ana opened the bathroom door, and spoke again in French. Oddly, it sounded like she said 'Hello Mr. Stew Pot, thank you for waiting.' Suddenly a horrific sewer stink slammed into my nose. I realized she had fooled me for the second time today. My girlfriend emerged alone, hands in oven mitts, carrying a large high-sided aluminum pot, battered from years of use in the adjacent café. It had dents in the side that resembled a face, ergo 'his' name. Although this putrid guest was much better than having another guy in the room, from the careful way she was carrying it, I got the impression the vessel was at least half full. An occasional wisp of steam drifted from within. I guessed she had added warm enema soup to the café menu. A metal handle poked out of the top at an angle. She set the pot on the chair, tossed the mitts, then climbed onto the bed and squatted, straddling my waist, facing me. I could now see she wore sheer white lace panties, the variety that had no extra layer in the crotch, and I now had a terrific view of her hairless pussy lips. She was smiling broadly, almost as if on a perch, due to the two high platform shoes that showed off her painted red toenails. The stench in the air was overwhelming, burning my nostrils. I suppressed gags as best I could.

"I have always wanted to try this!" There was a sparkle in her gorgeous dark eyes. "Robert, you are such a sick, perverted, shit-eating bastard, I knew you would love it!" She reached out to her side and stirred the contents around slowly. "Since our return from St. Martin, I have emptied my bowels into plastic bags each time and placed them in my freezer. I brought them in a cooler and they have been simmering in the restaurant kitchen all morning." She looked me in the eye with a devious twinkle. "There were eighteen bags in all. Your mother's eggplant parmesan and apple pie are in here somewhere," she said, referring to remnants of the meatless dinner at my parent's house. "I added number nineteen, fresh this morning." The grinning, obsessed brunette raised the handle, which was not a spoon but a large, commercial kitchen-sized ladle, and tilted it to show me. "Isn't it beautiful?" Shiny, mocha-colored sludge dripped from its overflowing edges.

With her other hand, Za'ana reached beneath the waistband of the skirt and grasped the panties and pulled the white lace tight up into the divide between her labia then jolted her hips, dragging the material across her expanding clit. She moaned and closed her eyes for a few seconds. The brunette's flat, sculpted stomach flexed as her breathing grew deeper.

"Yes it's beautiful," I replied. "May I please have some of your delicious warm shit? Please?" I begged, even before she got a chance to prompt me. "I love my surprise! You know how much I love your bowels. Please?"

My throbbing dick head had worked its way under the black skirt and bumped into her lace covered ass crack as I squirmed around. She hummed a pleased note and reached down and back between her thighs and stroked my meat for several seconds while she told me what a disgusting pervert I was. Her stiffened nipples, jolting along with her arm movement, lurked up above. I wanted to reach up pull the top down and suck them, but of course I couldn't since I was tied down.

Readying my stomach for the discomfort and nausea that would certainly accompany being filled with three weeks' worth of my girlfriend's turds, I was surprised when Za'ana straightened up, leaned backwards slightly, and lifted a ladleful upward and pulled the gathered, elastic neck of her top open. She poured the sepia mush all over her chest, moaning loudly and looking up at the ceiling. The contents flowed down her cleavage and juice leaked out the bottom hem and formed several rivers down her stomach. The thin white material of the peasant blouse instantly turned a chocolate brown wherever the shit-tinted liquid traveled.

"Isn't this glorious?" she asked, not waiting for my answer as a second ladleful, brimming with more fecal stew, descended down her torso. Instead of withdrawing the utensil, she held it under the material, harshly digging at her nipple with its metal edge for several seconds, then erratically repeating on the other tit while moaning and gasping.

Although some solid blobs had escaped and made brown trails down her stomach, Za'ana now had a large roll of crap just below her tits. As she began to caress her body and randomly smear the feces, it yielded more brown, watery liquid, which it cascaded over my lover's long, almost trembling fingers before it dripped onto my stomach. Another two nipple-flicking scoops, frantically massaged across her chest, left her with an irregular but thick coating from navel to collarbone. The material of the blouse clung tightly to the uneven bulges of shit packed inside it.

I begged again for her to share a scoop with me, then held my mouth open, craving the bitter taste. The stinking excrement had been deep inside her and I was honored that she was sharing it with me, and flattered by the effort she made to accumulate so much of it. I thanked her gushingly as a fetid, full ladle hovered over my face, drops hitting my cheeks and open jaw.

"Beg for it, you disgusting bastard!"

I whined a few syllables and saw the ladle raise up and turn over before a deluge of very warm, mushy, sharp tasting excrement fell into my mouth with a splat, much of it landing on my cheeks. I was half full, but not for long as another scoop filled my oral cavity completely and overflowed down my chin and neck. I could feel random lumps of turd against my tongue and gums, and gritty bits of undigested food cling to my cheeks. I moaned with pleasure and my cock throbbed with joy.

Za'ana leaned forward from her squatting position and rested on her knees, then on all fours, looking at me with those incredible big brown eyes, her hair falling forward and landing in the feces coating my face. The yellow nightgown had become pushed up to my chest, and I felt liquid from her mush-plastered torso drip onto my stomach.

"Isn't it delicious?"

I hummed a positive tone as her shiny, mocha tinted, glazed fingers held my jaw and her glistening, long pointed tongue plunged into my full mouth. My girlfriend moaned loudly as she slurped the turd stew out of my mouth and let it drain from hers as our tongues flailed chaotically around. I could even hear the sprayed shit juice rain on the mattress beside my ear. The putrid stink had become the only atmosphere, and registered with every breath. After a minute or so, the beautiful brunette pulled her face away, everything below her eyes smeared with brown gunk. She was smiling broadly, the recesses of her teeth a chocolate hue. Suddenly she snorted, and clear rivers of viscous snot flowed out of both nostrils. She captured them with a brown-smudged finger, and lowered the strings toward my mouth. I slurped them loudly past my lips as my exotic girlfriend smiled.

Her expression changed quickly as she slapped me several times with alternating hands, creating an airborne brown mist. "You sick bastard! I suppose you think you get to fuck now! Beg to penetrate me! Beg!"

As my face throbbed, I whined pathetically multiple times for permission to have my cock inside her and how badly I wanted her since the day I met her. Za'ana crawled backwards and spat coughed up blobs of beige phlegm onto the nightgown and my stomach. She reached back to her butt and yanked the lace panties aside, apparently just enough for her to slide my stiff meat into her tight, pre-lubed asshole. Most porn videos feature anal as a grand finale; my girlfriend frequently seemed to consider it foreplay.

I moaned loudly as her slick ring of tight muscle surrounded my grateful cock. She shifted her hips around, breathing more rapidly, crap coated, stiffened nipples fighting against the now dark-colored fabric of the blouse. Za'ana had only begun to ride up and down a few strokes when she reached over for the ladle, and upended a dripping scoop into her waiting mouth as she faced the ceiling. She didn't seem to be swallowing, and pushed most of it back out with her tongue, letting it cascade off her jaw. A spray of dark blobs took flight as her head made quick animalistic side-to-side motions as she practically growled with satisfaction. She used the ladle three more times, her trembling hand inaccurate at best, covering her lower face, neck and chest with the dark, runny excrement. Her hair below her ears had formed numerous slimy ribbons where it was matted together and clung to her neck and shoulders.

Continuing to grunt and ride my stiff meat, she looked down at me with satisfaction, like a bizarre Amazonian warrior, covered in shit from eyes to navel. "You nasty bastard!" she said through a moan, and next an airborne wave of shit stew splashed onto my chest as she flung a full ladleful at me.

The liquefied crap warmed my skin beneath the pale yellow cotton. Corn kernels, nut fragments and bits of vegetables clung to the surface along with various sized small turds. Za'ana kept riding me, occasionally reaching back to tug the panties out of the way, then, re-smearing the load of mushy shit all over her flat stomach and tits, pinching her nipples. Her slick sphincter seemed to have an awesome death grip on my cock as she slid up and down, mumbling rhythmically.

The exotic beauty gathered the black skirt against her torso, then grasped a fistful of the lace panties and yanked upward violently. The brunette woman moaned and gasped as she slowly massaged her clit through the material with a brown-coated finger, its nail packed with feces. Another finger joined the first and slid under the waistband of the panties, and she began to rub herself vigorously. I had a terrific view of her beautiful pussy and sculpted, tensing body as she looked at the ceiling, shit-coated mouth open. I felt her rectum clinch on my happy cock as she orgasmed for several seconds, crying out with short little squeals and a final, loud, guttural outcry. Her jolting body flung dozens of shit lumps into the air.

Winded, Za'ana pulled up, leaving my cock, stained only slightly brown so far, to throb and point at the ceiling. I could feel another load beginning to accumulate, but didn't want to ask permission to shoot just yet. To my surprise she stood on the bed, her arms extended upwards and palms pressed against the white, texture painted ceiling for balance on the unstable mattress. The lower hem of the black skirt, which was now mottled with brown patches, slid down to cover her once again. I watched her feet with their red toenails in the platform shoes, which had several sepia trails of crap crisscrossing them, walk backwards. The diamond pattern of the worn, cream-colored mattress was emphasized as brown liquid filled the valleys between the tufts.

"Thank you for letting me penetrate you. It felt awesome as always." I said.

My stunning girlfriend stood over me. The white peasant blouse was now almost completely stained brown. Her body upper body was heavily smeared with caked shit, its gloss fading in places as it cooled and dried somewhat. Occasionally a piece of turd would fall to the bed, next to her shoes.

I looked up and into her eyes, as I knew where at least one of those shoes was headed. Sure enough, her thigh swung backwards and she paused, knowing I wanted to get the pain over with.

"Beg for it!"

"Please kick my nuts." I said weakly. Now she had me begging for her abuse. "Kick them hard."

Her tits shook as her shoe made contact. I grunted loudly as my sack, still sore from the gravel projectiles and compression in the vise, registered the pain, which was worsened by my convulsing and twisting. The lamp cord was still tied around them and tightened with my movements. My chest heaved as I watched her step toward my face, arms still extended, leaving brown handprints on the ceiling.

Za'ana rubbed one of the shoes around on my chest, tugging on the lamp cord that was looped around my nuts. I cried out as the pain, which had just begun to subside, again radiated up into my lower body. She then gathered some of the shit off the nightgown and onto the shoe.

"Lick it off, you nasty pervert!"

I extended my tongue and licked sepia goop off the toe and sole. Usually the commands involving her feet were not during sex. I would sand the calloused skin off or give her a foot rub and pedicure, although she did have me suck her sweaty, long toes once after we took a run at the dorm.

After I was done cleaning the dark mush and two corn kernels off her shoe, she mashed it against my jaw, forcing my head to the side. I had a view only of the feces-splattered mattress and the wall beyond.

"What are you, Robert?" She asked through gritted teeth. Za'ana pumped her foot up and down slightly with each word.




Days in Rodanthe Pt. 06



As a slow rain of thick brown liquid fell on my shoulders and next to my cheek, I recited my long string of titles, basically listing everything I had ever done with her or her latex strap-on. She had me repeat them twice, then insulted me in some language. When her massive shoe finally released my face, I saw her sliding the panties to one side, and then my cock throbbed as her knees bent, thighs widened and her gorgeous pussy appeared and descended toward my face, then halted, hovering less than a foot away. Her thick, ruffled, protruding inner lips were clean and glistening, except for smudges of shit at each end from her coated fingers rubbing her swollen clit and guiding my boner into her rectum. She was still facing me, and the terrific view up between her parted thighs of her shit-plastered tits and face, looking down at me, hair a sticky mess, is one I'll never forget.

"Do you like this? Do you want to lick it?" She said with her usual tone of condescension and disgust.

"Yes, of course, I love it. Please let me lick your delicious pussy." I whined.

"Louder!"

I had reached the word 'lick' and a sudden flood of hot, tangy, salty piss filled my mouth. I wasn't surprised, as she had refilled her iced tea three times at lunch. Not content to just urinate on my face, Za'ana bounced up and down, mashing my nose and gyrating her hips slightly so I was totally covered from the shoulders up, eyes closed against the stinging deluge. The jolting of the mattress tightened the cord around my nuts, which were still throbbing from her recent sadistic attention. A warm puddle formed under my shoulders and head, and the new smell of the combined waste products wafted into the air.

The next sensation was the salty smell of her heated, dripping pussy surrounding my nose. I extended my tongue and licked her crazily, adding her tangy, saline juices to the piss and shit flavors already on my palate. My neck muscles began to tire, as I was moving my head around chaotically and her grinding into my face made the task more difficult. Her knuckles pummeled my face several times as she kept yanking the panties to the side. My hair was soaked in urine, which cooled quickly.

Still unable to open my eyes, I felt Za'ana move backwards on the bed. A momentary rush of air proceeded a succession of painful face slaps as my lover demanded I beg to penetrate her again.

I whined pathetically until I felt her hold my stiff meat and direct it into her slick, extremely warm pussy. I thanked her and moaned loudly as the walls surrounded and clenched my cock on the first up stroke. She then bounced up and down briskly on my ecstatic cock, making the metal bed frame clank loudly, and frequently yanking the damp panties to the side. After a several minutes, I felt the position of her shit-slathered body change until she was laying on top of me, still riding my dick. Her lips touched mine and I opened them to receive her tongue, but was greeted by a mouthful of turds, lukewarm and much thicker in consistency. After a couple minutes of slow, moaning, forceful kissing with our feces-filled mouths and the angle of her pussy caressing the underside of my cock, I was ready to shoot another load.

"I need to come," I gasped. "Please?" I was still unable to open my eyes due to the salty piss shower.

My girlfriend said nothing and pulled up, leaving my throbbing meat exposed and at attention. The air surrounding it felt ice cold compared to the soaked crucible between her legs. I heard the metallic clunk of the pot against the wooden chair, then was greeted by what must have been a pound of shit slapped onto my face. It was warm but heavy and thick, almost the consistency of peanut butter. Za'ana must have retrieved it directly from the pot with both hands, because I felt her wiping the excess on my arms and on my chest under the nightgown, which had become not much more than a wet rag as it absorbed the piss that had flowed beneath my shoulders.

Next I felt her step off the bed, and a bare shoulder was rubbing on the upward facing palm of one of my hands, still restrained by the electric cord at the wrist.

"Beg to touch my breast, you disgusting pervert!"

A segment of the mound of shit on my face shifted past my lips as I tried to speak. I begged to please let me touch her tit, my words impeded by a large blob of excrement in my mouth. After a minute or so of whining, she slid my hand under the lower hem of the blouse, its fabric heavily laden with mush. My cock flinched as her awesome, excrement-coated breast, nipple stiff, met my waiting fingers. This was my hand's first contact with the feces and I hadn't touched her tits in three weeks, so the thrill accelerated my jizz load. It continued to build as Za'ana pushed more of the heavy heap of shit on my face into my mouth. There was so much I couldn't close my jaws. I snorted to clear my nostrils, but it was still hard to breathe. My hand was ecstatically massaging the firm core of her tit.

"Eat it! I want you swallowing my bowels as you orgasm, you nasty bastard!"

Za'ana's breast left my grip and I loudly gulped as I swallowed portions of the dense, sticky excrement. Then she seemed to push the chair out of the way and kneel on the floor as I felt her hand on my cock, stroking it impatiently as she insulted me. The lamp cord around my nuts seemed to be in her way and she thankfully slipped it off, tucking the loose cord under my side and resuming her messy hand job. In less than half a minute I was moaning loudly and happily squirting out a another load, my feet, hips, stomach and gulping jaw jolting spastically. It felt terrific and I tried to thank her as I caught my breath, my words distorted by the thick crap that was stuck to roof of my mouth and packed in between my cheeks and teeth.

I heard the metal pot bump the chair again, and felt another, even heavier pile of crap plopped onto my lower stomach. There seemed to be no end to this aluminum vat of turds. I finally managed to open an eye as I belched from her dessert. She was crouched next to the bed, holding my softening dick.

"Piss Robert," she ordered.

Luckily I didn't drink as much as she did at the hoagie shop, but it still felt good to empty my bladder. Somehow she had gotten even more shit on her face, along her hairline and their were brown fingerprints on the white headband. I don't think she knew I was able to see her now, because a broad smile spread across her beautiful, shit-slathered face before she opened her mouth. Partially hidden by the mound of waste on my stomach, I watched her direct the stream in between her brown-coated teeth, and swallow twice before my piss was directed nearly straight up. The pale yellow urine arched over a foot in the air and then noisily splashed onto the heap of excrement, creating glossy trails down through the irregular surface and valleys. The lopsided pile looked like a kid's school volcano project as small puddles formed on plateaus and the warm overflow of sepia-tinted piss trailed down my sides and soaked into the mattress.

I was then surprised to see Za'ana, her chin dripping with dark-tinted piss, stand and hastily step out of the skirt and panties, letting the black skirt, wrinkled and mottled with brown smears, fall to the floor. She realized I had an eye open.

"What are you looking at, you shit eater!"

The lace panties, which had only remained white on the upper back side, were promptly stuffed into my mouth, topped off by a handful of sticky shit she retrieved off the mattress and my neck. She then smacked me twice, sending most of the fecal mush back out past my lips.

As my face stung, I was surprised to see her transfer a palm full of the piss-softened mush from the volcano pile onto my soft dick, then lean down and close her lips around it. I only had a view of the side of her face and shit-plastered hair, but moaned as her slick tongue massaged my cock spastically. As it stiffened again, more and more of her face was visible above the mound of excrement on my stomach as her strokes became longer and longer to accommodate its growth. Her tits bounced around nicely inside the ruined blouse.

Once my dick was nice and hard again , Za'ana then climbed onto the bed, straddled my waist and smiled. The obsessed brunette then squatted and lowered her crotch momentarily onto the shit volcano, moaned and pulled up. Her swollen clit and protruding labia were dripping with the mushy crap, and various-sized, stickier pieces momentarily clung to them and her inner thighs before dropping back into the pile. She repeated her motions, looking at me with those captivating eyes, the only feature of her face that wasn't smeared with crap. Soon she was rubbing her clit and dry humping the mound of shit, flattening and spreading it all over her crotch.

My dick stayed hard through her shit-smearing show, and suddenly she dropped to her knees, backed up and smeared a handful of sticky, gritty excrement all over my cock and slid it into her soaked, steamy pussy, gasping loudly.

Za'ana leaned forward and slapped my face twice with her shit-caked hand, creating multiple airborne blobs, and then resumed her cowgirl riding and frantic clit massage. Even with her panties stuffed in my mouth, I was able to thank her for letting me inside her shit filled pussy. The beautiful woman, her excrement-laced hair clinging to her neck and shoulders, said nothing, but moaned and grunted crazily, her smeared, sepia curves stretching and clenching. My girlfriend's tits jiggled and bounced rhythmically beneath her stained top. Our pelvises made a squishy, slapping sound with each quick collision as the thick coatings of shit were pulverized between us, nuggets momentarily airborne, sometimes splattering the mattress. The heat from her pussy melted the shit within to a slurry that drained down my sore balls, which were jolting with every stroke her hips made down onto my solid meat. The metal frame of the bed clanked as well, only stopping when she paused to coat my dick with more stinking waste, and then impale herself once more.

My girlfriend was working up a sweat as the shit on her forehead, chest and near her armpits took on a renewed gloss. Her brown fingers, red nail polish barely detectable, began pinching, smacking and poking her clitoris. Za'ana moaned and grunted loudly like an incensed primate as she had a series of orgasms, her athletic body tensed and trembling.

My girlfriend leaned forward and collapsed on top of me, forcing the shit sandwiched between us to ooze down my sides each time she rapidly inhaled, breathing heavily. She pulled the wadded panties, now a chocolate color, out with her teeth and spit them out beside my ear. Za'ana began to kiss me with a relaxed, open jaw, her tongue less forceful, allowing mine to explore her mouth a little longer than usual, her excrement-infused breath humid and heated. After a minute or so she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the flush cutters, and clipped the lamp cord off my wrists and arms. It felt great to move my arms around and she prompted me to rub shit on her back and awesome feeling ass while we kissed for a few more minutes. Za'ana pulled up, lumps of drying crap falling off her torso, and released my ankles as well. After I flexed and stretched my legs, I was amazed as she guided me to stand, squatted and took my brown-stained hard cock in her mouth as cooled urine dripped off my back.

After a few minutes of her heavenly sucking, caressing my ass, shit clods sliding off her beautiful face, Za'ana grabbed the stew pot and placed it beneath her. I could see it still had a couple handfuls of her thawed freezer stock of excrement in the bottom. Still squatting, she pissed into the pot as a metallic echo sounded through the room. The pot was placed on the chair and she smiled, grabbed my wrist and plunged my hand into it until my fingers were immersed in the warm, shallow pool of urine. She said nothing but I took the hint and swirled the last of the putrid fecal matter into a soft stinking mush, scraping the sides to ensure every possible morsel her colon had produced was included. Za'ana then grabbed the vessel, held it over our heads and plunged her tongue into my mouth. She tipped the pot and the fecal slop rained on our noses, cheeks and tongues as we kissed, again with open mouths, my stiff cock rubbing against her thighs. The excess slop could be heard splattering onto the wooden seat of the chair below. My girlfriend bit my lip and stretched it as she tossed the pot, finally emptied of what must have been almost two gallons of her feces, onto the ruined mattress.

Za'ana then pushed me backwards into the nightstand, knocking the lamp onto the bed. She spun around and backed her beautiful ass, adorned with my shitty handprints, toward my stiff, sepia-stained cock. The messy brunette leaned forward, reached back and grabbed it, guiding it into her warm, soaked pussy once more. Luckily between the high platform shoes and her six-foot height, her long legs could spread and she could ride my stiff meat as I stood slouching, my legs together and ass pinned against the top edge of the nightstand. It was weird penetrating her while I was still in the black pumps and ruined yellow nightgown, but her pussy felt so awesome.

I held her hips as she forcefully slammed backwards into me, her ass quivering and hands on her lower thighs for balance. Spotlighted by the bare bulb of the fallen lamp, we could see our reflection in the large mirror attached to the dresser directly across from us. As a reward, I believe, for my behavior this afternoon, my girlfriend reached up and slid the shit-impregnated peasant blouse off, flinging it into the closed, ugly avocado-green curtains next to the room's door. Now naked except for the coating of excrement, she exaggerated her upper body motion, raising her arms and flailing her tits around for me as I watched us fuck in the mirror. The view of her beautiful hanging breasts was occasionally blocked by her swinging, turd-matted hair. The fallen lamp also made large scale shadows of us on the back wall by the bathroom, a giant cartoon of sorts.

After several minutes of awesome, nightstand-jarring thrusts, the wall silhouette and selfie porn show of us in the mirror, I was ready to fire off another load, and asked for permission. I knew this meant I would probably be jerking off, as I was forbidden from shooting in her vagina. Expecting an order to come in my palm, I was surprised by her next command.

"Beg to orgasm in my rectum, you disgusting bitch!"

I whined as requested, breathing heavily, and finally she pulled away, leaving my throbbing meat, which was probably now permanently stained brown, pointing at her and my nuts dripping with her thick juices.

Her hand appeared and guided my glistening head into her asshole, which had re-tightened despite my earlier visit. I moaned as it slid in and she clenched it tightly. She let me do the actual hip thrusts, a rare occurrence, and it only took about twenty strokes and I was blowing a small but great feeling batch of sperm into her rectum. Once I was done, I dropped to my knees, breathing heavily, anticipating her previous, dorm sex command to suck my 'nasty DNA' out of her anus.

Sure enough, her beautiful, excrement-smeared ass, spotlighted by the bare bulb of the fallen lamp, was backing toward my face and I heard a gurgling fart as her flexing, puckered hole forced out a caramel-colored blob of combined intestinal juice and semen, which I caught with my extended tongue. After slurping more out amid another round of escaping gas, I held the gooey, relatively mild tasting cocktail in my open mouth as she turned around and demanded I play with her excretion, stringing it between my lips and flinging it up onto my nose, all while looking up at her gorgeous, messy face. She was smiling, feces-crusted lips parted to catch her breath, her teeth a mocha tint. Behind her long lashes, the lids of her stunning eyes, still shimmering with gold-toned makeup, were lowered slightly with a look of satisfaction.

2

Instead of showering immediately, we sat on the other bed, had a contest of sorts to see who could cough up the most thick, stringy, lower throat saliva for us to share while we kissed. Za'ana let me fondle her tits and suck the dried crap off her nipples as we reclined, cuddled, and both fell asleep. The bliss ended later when I was jolted awake by a ten-inch cock pissing on me. At least that was my initial, disoriented impression before I realized my inventive girlfriend had strapped on her dildo, and was standing on the bed over my stomach, directing the rubber dick into her urine stream so the liquid flowed off the head. She was humming a giggle and bent over facing away from me, and had a leg raised partially like a male dog, possibly to help her aim.

"Wake up, shithead!"

"I'm awake," I mumbled, wet from neck to knees. "Do I get some cock now?" I asked, hiding my dread of having diarrhea the next few days. It had been nearly a month since the mulitple buttfuckings in St. Martin, and my ass had returned to a normal a state as possible. I was ready for a long hot shower of the soapy kind, but knew Za'ana was not about to waste a good old fashioned slathering of three weeks' worth of putrid shit. The fecal crust had felt like it was permanently imbedded in my skin. The piss only served to reactivate the horse stall stench in the room.

The kinky brunette, her stunning, jiggling ass surrounded by the black straps of the dildo harness, hovered over me. She finished emptying her bladder, and even shook the last several drops off the dick like a guy. The latex cock snapped into its erect position when she let go, stepping down from the bed.

"Stand up!" she yelled. I no sooner had my feet on the floor as she grabbed my soft dick, yanking my pubes along with it. My body was dripping with her liquid as it cooled.

"Piss, you disgusting cocksucker!" she said, squatting, to my surprise, in front of me.

I relaxed my muscles and the dark haired beauty sprayed herself all over with the urine, and I watched the liquid make trails and cascade off the beautiful curves of her feces-smeared, naked torso. She arose with a mouthful of my piss, and our tongues collided as the overflow dripped down our chins onto the orange rug, joining the brown shoe prints already ground into the carpet fibers.

"Get on the bed like the poo-see cat you are!" she yelled at me in her accent.

"Please fuck me!" I began to whine. She was going to demand I beg anyway as I crawled onto the bed in the wet baby doll nightie and heels.

Instead of getting behind me as I waited on all fours, the latex cock was suddenly in my face as she grabbed the back of my head and shoved her hips forward, fucking my mouth and plunging the dildo more deeply down my throat with each successive thrust. Moments later my torso was jolting as I gagged and felt the contents of my stomach quickly returning to my mouth. Grunting and choking, I puked up a brown combination of shit and hoagie all over Za'ana's exiting rubber dick and the piss-dampened bare mattress below. She repeated her suffocating incursions until I produced another flood of thick, lumpy, pungent vomit. The dripping latex cock pulled out but her strong grip on the back of my head continued and pushed my face downward, forcing it into my just created, stinking puddle. I blew bubbles in the thick liquid as I snorted gunk out of my nose.

"Oh that stinks! Smear it all over! Keep your face in the vomit!" my lover demanded as she jerked my neck around, then wiped the vomit off the dildo and smeared it in my hair and slid off the bed

My face coated with the warm puke and strings of my own snot, I was able to tilt my head up and look back between my legs and watch her, upside down from my view, walk over to the dresser, strapped on cock leading the way. My dick, despite having come three times today, twitched, because I loved seeing her with that latex penis, ready for action. She squirted some lube on the shaft and rubbed it all over before I turned away and began to beg again for her to fuck me because I loved being her filthy, perverted bitch. The puke dripped off my face as I spoke. Strangely, Za'ana didn't jump up and mount me right away, she stepped into the bathroom and used the squeaky sink faucet.




Days in Rodanthe Pt. 06



I remained there on the bed at her mercy, on my knees in a nightie and heels, bare ass in the air, body coated with piss and shit, face planted into a putrid puddle of vomit. The next sensation after her return was the biting sting of a wet towel on my ass cheek. I cried out at the moderate pain.

"Did you like penetrating my rectum with your pink hardness?" she asked angrily as she stood beside the bed and began to lash me rapidly on my butt and upper thighs. The lamp that was lying on the adjacent bed continued to made large shadows of us on the back wall of the room.

"Yes, I loved it!" I managed to blurt out between strikes. It had only been the second I was allowed to fuck her, where I did the thrusting, brief but awesome.

"Have you fantasized about doing such a disgusting thing to me?" The lashes continued.

"Yes!" I answered honestly. "Since the day I met you!"

"Oh! Then you still think I'm nothing but a whore!" She yelled angrily in her accent and began to flog harder.

"No! I'm your whore! Please fuck me!" I pleaded, enjoying the anticipation of being taken by her latex cock once again as the puke dripped off my face. At this point I didn't care that I would have the squirts for a few days and might have to miss classes, I just wanted to feel her totally in charge, driving into me.

I must have said the magic words, as Za'ana landed a final few ardent towel slaps to my throbbing warmed ass, then climbed onto the bed and pushed my lower back down until I was flat on my stomach, legs spread and knees bent, the soles of my shoes facing the ceiling. She cursed in a couple languages as I felt the head of her strap-on pushing my stinging cheeks apart and then I voiced both the thrill and pain as she plunged the slick dildo past my maltreated sphincter.

My asshole adjusted to the diameter of the latex dick more quickly than I thought it would, no doubt the result of our previous abuse. The beautiful brunette began her assault right away, laying face down on top of me, her matted hair tickling my back and shoulders. In between rhythmic grunts, she asked me what my friends and family would think about me being her disgusting sissy bitch, dressed like a girl, begging to be buttfucked, both of us wallowing in her bowel movements, One of her hands stayed busy reaching under me and pinching my nipple harshly, or scooping puke and rubbing it on my face. The other rubbed her clit as her weight, shit coated skin, and stiffened nipples on my back felt awesome.

After several minutes of her pounding my rectum, she withdrew and bit my neck below my ear hard enough to leave a bruise. I felt like I was in a vampire movie as I looked back to the exotic, shit smeared woman, her hair a greasy rat's nest, tugging at one of her nipples, the other hand had pushed the strap-on down her thighs and she was yanking on her clitoris like it was a tiny dick.

"Ass in the air...you worthless bastard!" she commanded, her breath quick and heavy.

I resumed a doggie position, dick semi-hard, my gaping asshole throbbing. Her slick tongue then reamed out my rectum an she moaned loudly with an orgasm. She pulled away, breathing heavily. I know licking butt is a submissive act, but Za'ana only did it when she could be invasive as possible. I thought about her earlier promises regarding my anus, and since the invitation to live with her, I knew I would be spending the summer like a ventriloquist's dummy, with her arm up my ass.

Suddenly the plastic cock was in my face, straps of the harness dangling, with covered thinned lube and a ring of my fresh shit gathered around the base, a small smashed turd that had formed during the last several hours since I crapped my pants in the truck.

"You are a filthy bastard! Lick it clean!" she yelled, trying to sound angry, but I think she was happily surprised at the appearance of a little bonus shit at her fecal party. This was only the second occasion she had tasted my excrement, and luckily she was in the mood.

I was still on my knees and elbows, ass vulnerable, as I licked the lube and shit sludge off the latex cock. Suddenly I sensed one of her legs in the air right before I felt my balls kicked hard from behind. I cried out loudly, then curled up on my side in a fetal position as the pain shot across my body up into my chest cavity. I laid there, whimpering softly with the head of the dildo in my mouth like a giant thumb, still in the nightgown and heels, as my girlfriend stood legs apart, shuddering and grunting with more orgasms.

I eventually recovered from her roundhouse kick, and joined her for a very long shower.

To be continued...



Days in Rodanthe Pt. 07



This chapter begins the morning after the long Saturday spent with beautiful Za'ana at the closed motel, which had been the perfect venue for her sadistic urges and shit-obsessed sex games.




I awoke at sunrise, my bladder full. Thin spandex straps surrounded my hips and occupied my ass crack; I remembered I was wearing thong panties. Taking in my surroundings, I was not in the dorm, but a shabby room in a doomed old motel. I had spent the night occasionally sitting on the toilet with the squirts, but mostly sleeping next to my beautiful, twisted girlfriend, after a long day of our messiest scat sex yet, and having my rectum and nuts abused. Despite a thorough scrubbing last night, I could still smell a dull scent of shit on my skin as I brought my hand up to my yawing face. Dim light filled the room. This was not the one in which we had wallowed in excrement for hours; this was a clean room nearby I made up with sheets a blanket last night. I noticed Za'ana was not in bed, and the bathroom was lit but silent. I thought she had gone out for a run, but heard the rumble of an engine idling outside. Her makeup and belongings were still spread all over the dresser, so she wasn't packed to leave. Hopefully she was going for coffee.

I limped into the bathroom, and pissed into the rust stained, ancient beige toilet, taking the opportunity to temporarily free my sore balls from the tight lacy yellow triangle that had compressed them all night. Suddenly I realized the idling engine was a diesel, and therefore not her truck or mine. Quickly I looked out the window as the fan from the heater blew its stale air across my bare legs.

Sitting askew in a parking space, headlights on, driver's side and rear doors open, was a white cargo van. It looked like one I had seen before, the horrible morning I was accosted by smug Special Agent Brewster and her large partner.

Panicking, I looked for Za'ana's holster and gun, but they were missing, as was her taser. I tossed the panties and jumped into my pair of sweats, shoes, grabbed a hoodie and quietly opened the door. The moon was still visible in the sky as I crept down the cracked concrete walk. Looking down the building, the lights were on in the room we had fucked in the previous day, the site of Za'ana's bucket-of-intestinal-chili-palooza. I had spent over two hours in that room last night wiping dried shit off the nightstand, walls and yes, the ceiling, and dragging the ruined area rug and lampshade to the dumpster across the parking lot. The worn mattresses and box springs, which had hosted hundreds of nights of fat, masturbating truckers or horny teenage fucking, were also taken to their final resting place in the dumpster, soaked after being hosed down by the pool to remove as much of the vomit, urine and fecal stench as possible. Dragging the dripping wet mattresses solo was quite a workout, and I was stiff and sore from that as well as the day's sadistic sex.

My pulse raced as I stepped quietly up to the room, hoping that Constance and her giant bald partner hadn't arrested or hurt my girlfriend. I wasn't sure what help I could be unarmed or even armed, but had to peek inside. The curtains, also splattered with excrement, had been removed, leaving nothing to cover the large, dirty window. The door was halfway open and I walked in, amazed at what was taking place. I felt like I had walked into a low budget crime movie.

In the room, bizarrely lit by the over headlight and the idling van' headlights, was Constance, arms and legs spread, on the bare, worn linoleum floor, tied face up by multiple loops at the wrists and ankles, to the corners of the vacant, square metal bed frame. Za'ana, wearing a black running outfit and jacket, stood over her, holding the nearly depleted spool of lamp cord and the cutting pliers. Multiple pieces of clipped plastic cable ties were scattered around.

Constance was dressed, well almost, in jeans, a black t-shirt and dark blue windbreaker. For some reason her pants were only as high as her upper thighs and unzipped, , revealing a pair of colorful, flower patterned panties. I figured it was not a good idea to stare, since my girlfriend was in the room, weapons lying on the dresser.

Both of Constance's sneakers had been removed and the socks stuffed in her mouth. Her bare feet had high arches and her stubby toes were held tightly together due to the cool air. When she saw me she started yelling something undecipherable into the socks. Her face was devoid of makeup and was reddened with anger. Dark crescents lurked under her blue eyes. Even in this compromised position, she still looked pretty good, but seeing her in person again reminded me of how pissed off I was that she knew about my secret, submissive, perverted life. My attention turned to my approaching girlfriend, who smiled and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

"Good morning sweetie!" Za'ana, dressed in a black and red running outfit, said cheerfully and loudly over the noise of the idling truck. "Did you sleep well? I went for a run and noticed a white van on a side road with New Jer-zee license plates a few digits away from several other cars I've seen following me the last few weeks. All owned by the same agency. Did they really think I wouldn't notice?" The brunette shook her head and looked down at the blonde captive. "So I went back for my gun and waited in the woods a few minutes and out steps this Malibu Barbie," she said, referring to Constance's straight platinum blonde hair and suntan, just like the doll. "She squatted to pee, and taser darts to her white derriere dropped her like a sack of potatoes. I threw her in the back of her truck and brought her here for a little chat." My girlfriend's expression then changed from a smirk to a serious one. "I'm almost ready to close the deal and this bitch is going to fuck up everything. If she won't cooperate, we can throw her body into that deep hole at the gas station." Za'ana gestured toward the derelict white building bordering the motel. "We need to remove her clothes. The fresh air will sharpen her memory and they will have to rely on DNA for identification, if they ever happen to find the corpse." 

Not happy at being referred to as a corpse, the blonde's blue eyes widened as Za'ana pulled out a small knife and bent down. Constance bucked her hips and flailed her arms wildly, yanking on the white lamp cord restraints and yelling into the socks that filled her palate. The metal bed frame rattled loudly.

Still amazed, I watched as the exotic brunette reached down and began slicing the spastic, wailing blonde's clothes off, slitting then ripping the length of her jacket sleeves. Both my slight sympathy for Constance and perverse enjoyment of her involuntary stripping were interrupted as my girlfriend spoke to me without looking up. She gestured to her keys on the dresser.

"Be a dear and use the master key. Pull a few shower curtains down for the floor in here to catch the splatters, and nail one to this wall." Za'ana said and pointed. "This could become messy. And cut that stinking fucking van off!" she said, referring to the diesel exhaust fumes wafting into the cold room from the idling truck.

As I walked over to the van and hopped into the driver's seat, I knew that normally I would have been totally shocked and scared as hell at what my lover was saying and threatening to do. But, I knew she was bluffing to scare her captive. The previous day at the hoagie shop, still suspecting the appearance of the pretty blonde agent was a set up by Za'ana to test my loyalty, I risked exposure and revealed everything. Paranoid of listening devices in our cars, or someone following us, I barged into the ladies' restroom with my girlfriend, and grabbed her purse while she stood dumbfounded. I found a lipstick and scribbled a message on the mirror: 'TREAS DEPT AGENTS AFTER U'. She replied by drawing a heart and kissing me, then wiped the mirror clean. We said nothing more about it until on the drive back to the motel. We pulled up a forested hunting access road and parked, and both jogged into the woods, where I gave the smiling brunette beauty all the details of my meeting with extortionist Agent Brewster and her distracting nipples. Za'ana lovingly stroked the side of my face as she swore me to secrecy and told me what was supposed to transpire. As a reward I received her tongue in my ear and a long, deep kiss with lots of spit, all while allowed to massage her wonderful ass with both hands inside her pants.

I was sure my girl friend had gone out this morning intentionally to see if Constance and her partner were in our proximity and listening in. Luckily he didn't seem to be around. I wasn't sure what Za'ana hoped to gain by essentially kidnapping the blonde woman, other than harassing her. So far my girl was pretending she discovered Constance on her own, to protect me.

By the time I returned to the room, dragging four mildew-edged white shower curtains, Za'ana had stripped Constance down to her yellow halter sports bra and panties. The captive blonde hadn't planned on being seen undressed anytime soon, as her inner thighs and armpits had a little stubble. Shredded clothes were now scattered about. I spread the shower curtains around like painter's drop cloths on the worn, orange and cream-colored, checkered pattern linoleum tile that reminded me of my grandmother's kitchen. Za'ana lifted the angry blonde agent's body long enough for me to slide the vinyl, stained and ripped in places, beneath her. 

Once I was done, I dashed over to the maintenance room to find some nails to tack one to the wall. The socks had evidently become absent from Constance's mouth as she began screaming, which I could hear out the open door two rooms away.

"This is God damn kidnapping! You sick freaks are both going to prison! If I disappear you'll be the first suspects!" 

I returned and stood next to Constance's head as I began hammering a few small nails into the cheap wood paneling to hang the last shower curtain from. The blonde was somewhat short, maybe five and a half feet tall but muscular, with well developed thighs, lats and shoulders like a swimmer or gymnast.

Za'ana squatted next to the blonde agent, toying with the knife. "Tell me what you know about my operations. What are your passwords?" she asked, referring to the laptop on the dresser, taken from the white van. Having a second woman present with a 'normal' American accent reminded me how sexy my girlfriend's Russian-French Canadian accent was.

"Fuck you!" Red-faced Constance snarled and spat on my girlfriend's pants leg above her ankle.

The calm brunette chuckled, slid her finger over the saliva and slid it into her mouth "Have you forgotten who you're dealing with? You know all my little secrets. Was that supposed to bother me?"  

The two women verbally sparred for the next couple minutes, with insults and wishes for fatal disease flung at Za'ana, who continued to calmly press the stubborn blonde for information, even offering a new car or a cash bribe of fifty thousand dollars to become a partner in the enterprise. My girlfriend arose and whispered in my ear, then pulled a large piece of Constance's blue wind breaker off the floor and tied it into a full hood over her captive's face and head, leaving her unable to see.

When the exotic brunette whispered to me, it was to send me to the maintenance room to pick up a few things. I stepped back into the room as Constance, her chilled body now covered in goose bumps, continued to curse at us both, demanding we remove the hood. Her head was covered in dark blue jacket material, and her nipples, erect from being on the cold floor in the unheated, open door room, showed slightly through the sturdy yellow sports bra. Her freckled cleavage undulated as she continued to tug on her bindings.

The legal threats continued from under the hood as Za'ana took one of the circular saws from me, held back the lower blade guard and set it on the blonde agent's taught, tanned stomach. The unplugged saw's teeth depressed her skin slightly. Constance's breath became quick and shallow. The saw moved up and down quickly like a boat on a stormy lake.

"Passwords!" My girlfriend demanded.

"What is that?" the blonde yelled about the power saw on her stomach. "Enough of this bullshit! Let me out of here you sick bitches!" Agent Brewster screamed from under the hood, working in an insult to me as well.

"Okay, have it your way, little whore!" Za'ana said, lifting the saw off the shallow red indentations several teeth of the silver blade made in the skin of the agent's stomach.

The next sound was the loud wail of the saw and subsequent grinding filled the room as Za'ana quickly plugged it in and began cutting a slice into the top of the nightstand next to the bed frame, only about two feet from the blonde's head. The smell of burned wood was intense, and sawdust drifted onto Constance's restrained arm.

"You're not scaring me! Let me go!" The blonde's words were defiant but fear

Began to show in her speech. "My partner...he's supposed to relieve me. He's due any..." Her voice weakened."...any minute now!"

"Good. Maybe we can talk some sense into him, If not, I have extra blades," Za'ana replied coldly. "The gas station has room for two," she said, referring to the hole next door. "And Robert and I can be out of the country in two hours." 

My girlfriend then called Constance a branch office slut and yanked the center of the blonde's yellow sports bra upward with the blade of the small knife, exposing the spherical, pale undersides of Constance's breasts and lifting her back several inches off the floor. After a few seconds of sawing motion the bra was sliced up the middle and the cups snapped to the sides, completely revealing her beautiful, goose bump-peppered tits, which flattened out slightly across her rib cage and shook as the blonde's back fell to the floor with a thump. Constance's stiffened, nicely protruding pink nipples each resembled the end of a plump, overcooked macaroni noodle, with deeply set mammary duct openings. About ten or so surrounding bumps, nearly as large, were widely spread and sat atop a wrinkled field of slightly darker areola flesh on each quivering breast. The blonde's tan lined, taught torso continued to rise and fall rapidly with her breath.

Za'ana then smiled and winked at me as she clutched the bladeless saw and pressed its trigger. At the same time she flung a little loose sawdust she had gathered in her other hand onto her captive's chest, to create the illusion of it being cast off the spinning blade that had just cut a slice out of the ruined nightstand. 

Constance, quickly deducing that the exposure of her tits and the nearby whirring saw were related events, began hyperventilating and shouting her password, a combination of a pro football team name, a numerical date, and the nickname of her sorority. It sounded like she was now crying beneath the hood. 

I turned to the laptop already tilted open on the dresser, and nodded to Za'ana as the password was accepted and icons appeared, backed by DHS wallpaper. 

Even still, my grinning girlfriend lowered the humming saw toward one of Constance's nipples, a moving target as the blonde literally shivered beneath. 

"That was wrong! You lying whore!" Za'ana said, to her captive, and revved the motor on the saw, enjoying the hysteria she was causing.

"It's right! Try it again!" the blonde wailed. "Please!" 

Constance let out an ear-piercing shriek as the sharp-feeling brass key quickly scraped across her pink nipple. Intended to feel, as it had on my cock, like the beginning of a slice from the spinning saw blade, it did no damage and was only momentary. The hooded woman immediately began to sob loudly. "It's right! I swear! This is just a job! You guys are in-saaane!" After a few more revs of the motor, the whirring saw slowed to a stop. 

Saying nothing while the topless Agent Brewster lay crying on the shower curtain-draped floor, Za'ana arose and stepped over to look at the laptop's contents. She hummed melodically as she scanned through several folders and files, most with official looking logs of dates, times, locations and people's names. She encountered another folder, with a save date of the previous day. It was also password protected. 

"What's this folder from yesterday?" Za'ana called out to the bound girl on the floor. 

"Um , nothing...just...um...backups." Constance said between sobs. "The investa...investigation is all there...All of it." 

"The password doesn't work." 

"It's nothing.. .just...back...backups." 

"You little slut!" Za'ana stepped over, reached down and yanked the blonde's panties upward and sliced them with the knife blade. The elastic hems of the flower-patterned cotton easily gave way, and sniffling Constance was instantly rendered nude, except for the remnants of the sports bra draped across her armpits and the makeshift hood covering her head. Her light brown bush had grown since the video of her on St. Martin was taken, and her winged heart tattoo was now visible on her hip. 

"Souvenir!" Za'ana said, tossing me the shredded panties off the tip of the knife. I caught them, and the cotton panel was quite damp, as if the blonde, or at least her pussy, was enjoying her ordeal, much like my cock responded to the demands of the exotic brunette the day I met her. Unable to resist, I briefly held Agent Brewster's panties up to my nose and took in the blonde's sultry fragrance as soon as my girlfriend looked away. 

The tied-up agent began trembling and screaming out a similar password as the bed frame rattled and black and yellow circular saw came to life. Za'ana, holding the orange extension cord in one hand, slid the side guard of the saw down the again-hysterical blonde woman's tanned thigh, with the empty blade housing slowly heading directly toward her exposed genitals. 

Despite the distracting view of my girlfriend's beautiful, squatting ass and Constance's nice, hairy pussy and wildly flailing tits, I was surprised at the MP4 file I began to run. There was a black and white spycam video of the very room we were in. Based on the angle and date stamp in the corner, the camera was placed up in the smoke detector yesterday while we were away at lunch. I jumped ahead in the video and there was Za'ana, slathered in shit and riding my cock, with her trusty pot of sewage at her side. 

After another minute or so, my girlfriend ceased hovering the whirring but bladeless saw close to Constance's labia and left her naked, chilled and softly sobbing on the floor. As the room fell almost silent, the brunette arose and pivoted the laptop away from me. Za'ana's expressions changed from anger to quizzical, to a rare raised brow and open jaw of surprise as she scanned through several videos. Mumbling in some language but clearly using the word 'stalker', she spun the screen around to show me. On one file, nearly every second of the edited footage was focused on Za'ana's beautiful face, or body. A horny guy couldn't have done a better job. While on St. Martin, Constance had videoed us as we ate and sipped wine in cafes, fucked at night in the lit cabin, or sat on the deck or beach. In this montage, I was never on the screen as more than appendage, even when my girlfriend and I strolled hand-in-hand down the shore line. A group of still photos were enlarged but fuzzy images of my girlfriend's vagina, both covered and bare, captured as she laid on the nude beach or was bent over on the deck of our cabin. It was now clear why the blonde was reluctant to give out the second password. She was obsessed with my exotic lover.



"That explains this," Za'ana whispered, reaching down to retrieve something out of Constance's desert camouflage duffel bag, which my girlfriend had apparently already searched. 




Days in Rodanthe Pt. 07



In a clear plastic zip lock bag was a small, smooth, ivory colored vibrator and some spare batteries. It couldn't have been more than six inches long and an inch wide. I tried not to laugh out loud as the brunette slipped it into her jacket pocket. 

Za'ana had me shut the door to the outside, and turn on the room's heater. She retrieved a handful of toilet paper and a wet washcloth from the bathroom and stepped over to the sniffling captive. She squatted next to the blonde's face, and untied the knot holding the makeshift mask around her neck and tugged it off. 

Constance squinted as her eyes re-acclimated to the light. Her face was red, despite her tan, and puffy from her ordeal. Trails of snot led past her lips and off her chin. 

"Silly Barbie Doll, we're not really going to hurt you," Za'ana said in a consoling tone, stroking the blonde's mussed hair and wiping her wet face, then maternally holding a wad of tissue for Constance to blow her nose. She pointed to the two saws, both sitting on the floor. 

"You are such a cunt!" Constance said angrily, her clogged nose impeding her diction.

"We are, however, going to even the score. How dare you fucking threaten to blackmail us!" Za'ana said arose and stepped over to the dresser, and pulled out Constance's camera and wallet. 

"You told her?" the blonde screamed at me. "You fucking asshole! I wasn't kidding! I'm putting out all the video of you!" 

"My lover is completely devoted to me," my girlfriend said, standing behind me, kissing the side of my neck, then reaching around and caressing my dick, semi-hard and hanging commando in the sweats.

I was afraid Za'ana would be angry that I was enjoying the dilemma and view of the naked blonde, as evidenced by my cock. If she was, nothing was said. 

"You will do nothing, Miss Brewster. Your team is careless. I suspected I was under surveillance anyway. Now, if we see even one fucking image of us on the web," my girlfriend said angrily, "the photographs I am about to take will be sent to credit criminal websites, your division chief, the news media and your family " Za'ana held up an address book, plucked from Constance's designer purse. 

My dick continued to grow as I spent the next several minutes squatting close to, but not touching the restrained, cursing and admittedly hot, naked blonde, using both my hands to hold up different combinations of Constance's Social Security Card, credit cards, federal ID, badge and driver's license, complete with her home address in Connecticut, next to her face, tits, and even her glistening pussy as Za'ana took picture after picture, the flash repeatedly blinding me. The blonde's reddish outer labia were chubby and raised, but not enough to shroud the emergence of a symmetrical pair of pink inner lips; they flared outward but then merged and diminished just below her clitoris, which seemed to be throbbing and had taken the size and shape of a long .22 caliber bullet. A small puddle of liquid had formed beneath her crotch and was being smeared around the shower curtain by her ass cheeks. 

"There!" Za'ana said, pulling the SD card out of the camera. "That and this flash drive copy being made should be enough to prove that a federal agent was violating procedure by conducting unauthorized surveillance without her partner, and allowed herself to be vulnerable and easily overpowered. You will be instantly fired." Za'ana said with a smirk. "Your younger brothers will probably get rich charging their masturbating schoolmates for pictures of their sister's breasts and poo-see, and I will make sure your parents and grandparents in Westport receive printed photographs in the mail. Maybe they will see a family resemblance between your legs." 

"Fuck you! You freaks are still going to prison!"

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" Za'ana said, squatting next to the blonde's face and held up the small vibrator, still in its plastic bag. "Fifty thousand dollars will buy a lot of AA batteries for your junior school vibrator."

"That's...none of your dammed business!" the blonde said angrily. She called Za'ana a cunt again and resumed crying. 

"I'm flattered to see how busy you've been. Did you get your jollies with this," Za'ana asked sweetly, changing her demeanor, stroking the agent's platinum hair, referring to the dildo, "yesterday while watching us?" The brunette picked up the cutting pliers, which had fallen to the floor after the nightstand's battle with the circular saw. "We performed for you. Now it's your turn, beautiful girl." 

Constance looked away and said nothing. 

Za'ana arose, and clicked on the lamp that had been knocked around during our sex the previous day. The ugly pottery lamp was sitting on the floor next to the nightstand, and its shade-free bulb lit the two women brightly, as the morning sun had not yet crested the distant mountains. Next I watched with a combination of shock and cock-hardening pleasure as my girlfriend straddled the sniffling blonde and lowered her hips, facing away from the captive girl and nearly squatted on her face. Next I momentarily thought Za'ana was going to piss or shit on the blonde as she slipped her tight running pants down her thighs, still holding onto the pliers and bagged vibrator. 

"Is this what you want, sweetie?" Za'ana continued in a pleasant voice. Her free hand was apparently playing with her white thong panties, randomly exposing her pussy. 

"Stop it! Stop..." Constance plead as she began to squirm, but in a different way. She was no longer fighting the restraints, but flexing her hips and trying to grind her thighs together. We had noticed the wetness between the blonde's legs earlier, and the devious brunette was now mercilessly teasing her stalker, a lowering her hips to within a few inches of her captive's red face, then pulling away. 

Za'ana looked at me and winked again as she remained squatting. My jaw fell open as the raven haired beauty slipped the vibrator out of the bag and placed the rounded end in her mouth, coating it with spit. I thought she was going to jam it into the blonde's obviously aroused, shiny pink slit, but it disappeared beneath my girlfriend's hips. After violating herself a few times with the small tool, the exotic beauty pivoted around, pants remaining askew on her thighs, so she was beside her captive's face once more. 

Blonde Constance was breathing rapidly, her nipples still at full attention, but the gooseflesh had disappeared. Temperature in the room had risen several degrees, and she had begun to perspire at her hairline and armpits. 

Za'ana held the vibrator beneath her own nose like she was sniffing a cigar. She made a comment in French that included the word 'merde' so I assume a hint of feces lingered in her pussy as it did on the rest of our bodies. "Open your fucking mouth! Taste my vah-jean, Barbie!" The silent vibrator then dangled an inch from the blonde's sexy overbite. Za'ana smiled and looked into her almost hyperventilating captive's blue eyes, and just as it had been with me, the seemingly magical spell was cast. 

"Please.." The blonde's word barely was barely audible. Then, mouth held open and tongue extended, she craned her neck toward the glistening plastic tip. 



Instead of thrusting the dildo into her captive's mouth, Za'ana reached over and placed the tool in Constance's right palm. The blonde immediately began to yank at the cords tied around her wrist, whimpering loudly. Za'ana cut each loop of the lamp cord, working slowly as she enjoyed Constance's misery. 

Once her hand was freed, the naked blonde immediately brought the vibrator to her mouth, but hesitated for a moment, possibly taking in what scent she could through her clogged nose. She then pushed it past her lips, moaning and gasping as she tasted a sample of her obsession's juices for the first time. Seconds later, she tightened her ample white incisors on it, and twisted the bottom to turn it on. Her free hand practically slapped her pubic mound with it, and instantly the blonde cried out, grinding the buzzing toy into her swollen clit, revealing her badly chipped pink nail polish. After less than half a minute of frantic massage, legs flexing, Constance was tensing and wailing with an operatic, soprano orgasm. 

Standing there in shock but with a full boner, I thought that would be the end the blonde's ordeal, but sadistic Za'ana wasn't done. "You can't enjoy the parfum of my bowels watching in your bedroom or truck, can you? It's time to abandon the safety of your computer, Agent Barbie Doll."



With her tight black pants still around her thighs, the brunette held her thong to the side and began to squeeze out a turd right onto the floor in full view of her practically hypnotized captive. My girlfriend turned to me and grinned as a short, low rumble of gas accompanied the frankfurter-sized log, which slowly appeared a foot and a half away from the blonde's face. The turd jackknifed and separated when it hit the floor, and the upper half, a few shades lighter than the solid lower portion, came to a curved peak at its end like a frozen yogurt cone. 

The brunette wiped her hole with one of the damp white socks that had once occupied Constance's mouth, folding it over and over for a clean surface each time until no more smudges appeared. She then unfurled and tossed it, brown blotches and all, onto her captive's tits, and arose. I enjoyed a side angle view of my girlfriend's beautiful ass before she pulled up her pants. 

At first the blonde's jaw and shoulders convulsed at the smell, jolting her tits, but she then she locked her blues eyes onto the fresh turd and seemed to be savoring the perverse olfactory pleasure as she kept the humming vibrator pinned against her clit. Then to even Za'ana's surprise, the pretty sorority girl strained her face toward the shiny, stinking mocha-colored turd, stretching her neck and shoulders until her bound limbs prevented any further travel. 

My girlfriend, grinning broadly, bent over her captive's right ankle and cut the loops of cord, freeing the blonde agent to twist onto her side and directly face the putrid shit. Constance, sounding like a panting dog, edged closer to the feces, dragging the clanking metal bed frame with her, ruining my careful arrangement of the shower curtains. As the stink filled the room, we watched in amazement as the captive agent's red face and disheveled blonde hair slowly progressed toward the waiting log. But she paused a couple inches away, pulled the vibrator away from her pubic mound, her tanned, muscular back rising and falling quickly with her breath. Facing us was Constance's nicely jiggling bubble butt, with its inverted pale triangle of tan lines. There were two small red circles on one cheek where the taser darts hit their mark. The blonde's toned torso seemed to relax and it appeared she had enough.

Then we saw the blonde's face move tentatively closer, then grunt and recoil as if she had touched it with her tongue. Again she seemed to be pulling away. 

Suddenly Constance jammed the vibrator onto her clitoris and did a face plant into the shit. After a couple initial gulping sounds of unsuppressed gagging, the blonde agent wailed and gasped loudly, as she dredged her face in the excrement, frantically mashing it into a puddle on the white vinyl covering the floor. 

Za'ana and I stood shocked and motionless as we watched the amazing show. After almost a minute playing in feces for what must have been the first time, sorority girl Constance began wailing loudly and her body convulsed violently with another orgasm, briefly lifting one end of the metal bed frame off the floor. Lying on her side with her ass facing us, it was impossible to miss the intermittent clear liquid pulsing out of the blonde's pussy onto the back of her thigh. The captive woman's reddish anus puckered wildly as her feet flexed and toes curled with several subsequent, moaning orgasms. 

Eventually, the blonde's spasms slowed and she began sobbing once more. Constance turned her face, lumps of shit sliding off her cheeks, toward us and angrily threw the buzzing vibrator at Za'ana, missing her head by a couple inches. The plastic phallus hit the wall and then broke open on the floor, its silver AA batteries rolling across the linoleum. The crying blonde, after spitting out several stringy brown blobs, reached out for a torn segment of what had been her black t-shirt, and wiped her face. Still breathing erratically, she grabbed more of her shredded clothes and flung them over her hips and tits in attempt to cover up. The blonde's effort to clean herself was only partially successful, as her pretty but reddened face was still smeared with sepia streaks. There was shit all in her hair, and a couple pieces of corn, which had just exited Za'ana's colon for the second time, since she hadn't consumed any yesterday. 

"Go get my shampoo, soap and some towels, please." Za'ana said to me, trying to hide her smile. 

By the time I returned to the stinking room, brown-faced Constance had been released and was entering the bathroom. She held up and hugged her camo duffel bag, which I noticed had her last name and USN stenciled on it, in order to block my view of her nude body, which was a little late, since I had seen every inch of it already. My girlfriend handed her the items through a narrow gap in the door, which the sniffling blonde slammed shut afterward. Unsure what to do next, I began to gather up the broken vibrator pieces, shit-smeared vinyl curtain and shredded clothes to make another trip to the dumpster as Za'ana explored the laptop and pulled out her flash drive of copied data. 

Through the door I could hear Constance making herself vomit into the toilet, then sobbing as she pissed, flushed and started the shower. Several minutes later, the blonde agent hurriedly emerged in a gray t-shirt and sweat pants, braless, hair dripping, looking down and avoiding eye contact. Tits jolting, she angrily snatched up her laptop and purse, and stepped into her sneakers which had been lying on their sides near the door. Without a word or even a glance at us, she stomped outside into the morning sun and drove away hastily in her white government surveillance van, its racing diesel engine leaving a faint trail of smoke.  

2 

The next four weeks sucked. Studying for exams was a pain in the ass and my twenty-four year old truck broke down, making me miss another rendezvous with Za'ana, who had saved up more bags of frozen shit so we could ruin another room at the abandoned motel. She was angered that I couldn't afford to rent a car or find anyone to loan me theirs for the weekend. The strange incident with Constance faded away, and neither of us mentioned her. The texts and phone calls my girlfriend and I made were a little guarded, since anyone could be listening. I also finally got through the pain of telling my parents that, after a week at the shore, I would be staying with Za'ana in New York for the summer. Even with the government internship I had applied for in the computer crimes division, they were less than pleased that I didn't want to sweat my ass off cooking in my cousin's diner until fall, and of course the big objection, 'living in sin'. 

After exams it was great to see the summer sun as I was glad to get the fuck out of cloudy Pennsylvania. Truck repaired, I headed once more for Rodanthe to meet my exotic girl. We bought new untraceable prepaid phones and talked several times on the drive, and the tense atmosphere seemed to melt away as the temperature rose with my southward progress. I didn't even get any orders to shit my pants. 

She had rented a different house than the one I met her in, although I did take a sentimental detour down that side street and turned around in the driveway of the weathered shack from the previous fall. Tourists moved about, unpacking their minivan in the late day sun, unaware of the nasty things that had happened there. It was weird being back where it all began, where gorgeous Za'ana started barking orders at me, where I dropped my shorts and first jacked off in front of her, and where I degradingly first wore a bra and panties, the place I ate her shit.

A mile or so down the road was the larger and much newer house she had selected for us to spend a week in, dark green with white trim. I was excited to spend time alone with her, hanging out on the beach and hitting some seafood places, the only deviation Za'ana made from her vegetarian diet. Of course I was looking forward to lots of nasty fucking. 

As I found the new, but less secluded location I saw her SUV was already there, and she rushed down the stairs from the land side deck to greet me. My dick, dormant for the last month except for optimistic morning boners, twitched immediately the moment I saw her. The exotic beauty was barefoot, wearing a pale yellow knitted halter dress, apparently a bathing suit cover up. What got my undivided attention was the lack of a complete swimsuit beneath. The half-inch square openings in what was essentially the fuzzy netting of the relatively long dress revealed her blue bikini bottoms, athletic curves and dark nipples, which danced in time with her rapid step toward me on the wooden walkway from the house. She had apparently been in the pool or hot tub recently, as her dark skin glistened slightly. Her hair was a little shorter and was pulled back behind her head in a high, swinging ponytail. It was daring of her to greet me nearly naked in the daylight, but she was mostly shielded from the view of the other houses on the street by the high sea oats in the yard.  

"Hi Rob Sweetie!" she called out, extending her arms. 

After a minty, noisy, dick-hardening tongue kiss and long damp hug, I drank in her designer perfume and chlorinated water scent as she began to give me a tour of the nearly new house. Like most at the beach, it had the main floors upstairs, but she insisted on starting on the ground level next to the garage, in a spare bedroom. It was hard to concentrate as I walked behind her and admired her bare, sculpted, muscular back and watched her beautiful, blue thong-divided ass jiggle inside the revealing dress. My cock had grown down the inside of my pant leg.  

The first stop on the tour, the small bedroom had minimal, cheap furniture, an old boom box, and a single, high window. A bed with no foot board or headboard was strangely pulled a couple feet out from the wall. Za'ana shut the door behind her. My pulse raced as she instantly ambushed me with one of her angry, non-English tirades, slapping my face twice, then spitting in my eye. She opened a dresser drawer and I realized I was instantly in the midst of one her most elaborate 'games' yet. 

I was commanded to strip, and as I stood there with my boner sticking out, the gorgeous brunette used her usual noisy roll of clear packing tape to bind my hands to my sides at the hip. She then wound tape tightly around my upper sack, forcing my balls to stick out like a double lollipop. She spun even more tape around my hips across my ass and between my legs multiple times, practically creating a pair of clear plastic panties nearly up to my waist, with my hands bound inside and dick and nuts exposed. Finally she taped the shaft of my hard cock up against the tape that wrapped my lower stomach, leaving the head uncovered and pointing at my navel. Next the jingle of the ball gag buckle got louder as she approached me from behind. Za'ana shoved a knee uncomfortably into my bound nuts and held it while she tightened the gag. 

The next sight was bizarre, and a little scary. I really had no idea where this night was going. The exotic brunette pulled the blanket and sheets off the bed to reveal the space that I evidently would be occupying soon. The bed had one of those Swedish memory mattresses, the kind that are one giant block of dense foam, but this one had been modified, no doubt by my deviant lover. It had been dug out for the neck-down portion of a human body, my body. Shaped like an inverted Y, three connected trenches, each nearly a foot deep, had been crudely hollowed out like a canoe. They were centered in the mattress; the main trench was three times as wide as the two shorter ones. Black marker streaks were present randomly where she had drawn her pattern to excavate the foam. In my mummy-like state I was ordered to climb into the crudely made opening and sit with my butt in the junction of the Y. My thighs fit into the two smaller furrows, and holes bored completely through the mattress and box spring had been created so my legs below the knee could dangle straight down toward the floor. Za'ana hiked up her long dress and knelt, then dove below the bed as I felt her tying my ankles to something. The view of her lower back and jiggling ass in the dress was terrific, but I was unsure about my fate. 




Days in Rodanthe Pt. 07



I laid down, and my chest was just below the level of the mattress' surface, and my head stuck out of the top edge. My view of the ceiling was blocked by the smiling beautiful brunette as she tied a clothesline rope around my neck and down to the bed frame. It choked me if I tried to raise my head and shoulders more than a few inches. 

The next bizarre thing my girlfriend did was hike her dress up, stand with her back to the wall and do a donkey kick into it near my head, muttering about the security deposit. The pastel green drywall gave way with a hollow thud, and her tits shook as she bent down and ripped the pieces clear of the opening. A second kick into the hole to the other side completed the small tunnel into what I guessed was the garage, as warm air drifted through the jagged passage, carrying white plaster dust with it. I began to figure out that this new, crude opening was for my head. I had become a human mattress and the bed would be pushed back against the wall. I was trying to think of what purpose my devious girlfriend had for this complex arrangement. I had hope it involved a hole in the sheet for my dick and some kind of extended hand job, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. 

Za'ana looked down at me, smiling strangely. Her callous explanation became one of the worst moments in my life. She gathered my clothes off the floor as she spoke. 

"You disgusting, perverted bastard, you will love spending tonight and beyond as my living mattress. If you behave, I will allow bathroom breaks for you and meals of my leftovers combined with my bowels." A cruel smile appeared across her beautiful, full lips after she tossed my clothes and shoes into the lowest dresser drawer. "Using a false name, I've been chatting and Skyping with a several different men on line over the last few weeks, all of them live within a few hours of here," she began, with a maniacal look in her eye. "They think I am married to non-performing older man, and am desperate for no-strings-attached sex. They each believe I have carefully orchestrated a time and place for our quick clandestine rendezvous, at the exact time my husband will be away, and in a lower floor bedroom to avoid detection." 

Each word spoken by the woman I loved sliced into me like a stab wound. Even if I thought this was one of her tricks and showed little emotion, she might interpret that as a green light to fuck other guys for real, or worse, break up with me. My stomach churned and I was unable to hold back tears as she continued, while replacing the sheets and blanket on the bed. She had made this claim previously, but this time seemed different, more plausible, I guess, since men are always ready to come to the aid of an allegedly neglected, beautiful, horny woman, especially after a couple hours' drive. 

"I have expressed to each of these men that I need to be vigorously fucked, missionary style. You will love it as you feel every thrust they make as their beautiful cocks, all larger than yours," she chuckled, "penetrate my poo-see. They will have no idea that someone is beneath me, separated only by a sheet, intimately feeling his girlfriend having sex with other men. If you do anything to make your presence known to my new lovers, I will immediately return to New York, alone." 

I was sniffling frequently by the time she was done talking. I felt her wedge a pillow into the irregular opening in the wall to support my head, which was dripping with tears and drool due to the ball gag. 

"I will try to place my phone on the dresser to video some of each encounter as well, so you can watch later, you sick bastard. Don't be such a fucking crybaby," Za'ana said before pushing the bed toward the wall with a long grunt. 

Afterwards I heard her slam the door and could detect footsteps on the floor above, but the noise from water pipes near my head obscured the sounds. I calmed down after several minutes and opened my eyes. Depending on how I moved my neck, I had a view of the darkened inner wall between the studs, or the garage ceiling, visible only due to the thin strip of light under the wide door. My head was only a foot or so away from a large water heater, which clicked on and off occasionally. 

I thought about her previous attempts to incite my jealousy and abuse my feelings for her, and was sure this was another cruel joke, like the one in the cabin on St. Martin. It also occurred to me, although unlikely, that it could be Za'ana having sex above me, but with Constance, who she turned from a tough-acting agent into a doe-eyed, panting groupie, unless the blonde's remorse for her intimate display on the motel floor that morning had changed her feelings. Za'ana and I had never discussed whether or not she was bi, but it was not difficult to picture her dominating another woman. 

So there I laid, bound and gagged, I couldn't even scratch. I wanted to leave her, but just as I always told myself before, this was most likely one of her pranks, and I just had to wait it out. Maybe she had seen a reflection of me in the window, sniffing Constance's damp panties back at the motel, or because I got hard seeing the blonde involuntarily stripped naked, and this was revenge. Tired from the long drive and emotionally exhausted, I must have fallen asleep, as noises awoke me sometime later. 

I heard voices and then a local radio station blared commercials and country music from the boom box on the dresser. Thoughts of lesbian sex above me ended and my stomach churned as I heard a deep voice with a southern accent curse with amazement and compliment Za'ana on her body, calling her 'Jasmine'. Over the jingle of a belt buckle I heard my girlfriend's voice in the Russian-French accent, thank the stranger and make a surprised comment of her own, probably about his dick. This was really happening. My face tightened to cry as I sensed the mattress near my knees move slightly up and down. She grunted, mouth full, and he moaned loudly. My girlfriend was noisily sucking another guy's cock right next to me. Tears flowed heavily as I felt her hands feeling around to locate my exact position, then rub the underside of my taped down, softened dick for a moment before her bare back pressed against my bound testicles. Soon after I heard him moaning as he was licking her pussy, I guessed, as she squirmed on top of me. A few minute later, after a simultaneous outcry from her and grunt from him, the bed began to bounce rhythmically. I tried not to think of the horrible betrayal that was going on, but the motion and grunting animal fuck sounds above me swelled my cock against her as I sobbed, the boom box masking the sounds of my pain. She must have been legs up on the edge of the mattress with him on the floor and leaning into her, since a guy crawling around on the bed on top of her might detect the cuckolded male body trapped beneath. The ardent pounding compressed my nuts with each stroke and the pain pulsed up into my stomach. There was not much foam beneath me and the hard box spring frame had begun to dig into my back. Intermittent gasps and giggles from my girlfriend and the lucky redneck, whoever he was, drifted into my ears, ticklish and wet as snot dripped off them. I couldn't believe this was actually happening! By the start of the third country song, I had made up my mind to leave once I was freed. Enough was enough. I thought about some kind of revenge. I was going to laugh at this latest game and tell Za'ana I had been cheating on her at school. As they pounded away, I began to fabricate a secret romance with my chem lab partner Sophie, a cute Asian girl. Deep down I knew it wouldn't work; she would know I was lying. 

Suddenly on the side of the wall my head occupied, the door from the house opened and an overhead light came on. Apparently there were more than the two of us at the house, well three, counting the guy with his country fried cock inside Za'ana. Strangely, a wooden shipping palette sat in the middle of the otherwise empty two-car garage, laden with a chest-high stacks of unmarked cardboard boxes, all bound tightly with several layers of clear plastic. Fuck. I really wasn't in the mood to be seen by a realtor or cleaning crew. 

"Are they still going?" A voice asked. 

3

The voice sounded like my girlfriend. If it was, she was obviously not the one being fucked on top of me by a grunting hick. 

I squinted at the light and stretched my neck, and could see, although everything was upside down, as Za'ana emerged from behind the stacked boxes, still wearing the blue bikini bottom but this time her upper half was covered by a black UA t-shirt. Her bikini top was still apparently missing, as her tits bounced freely beneath. She was carrying a small towel. 

Overwhelmed by emotion once again, tears filled my eyes, blurring my view of her. I was joyously relieved she wasn't actually the one being fucked, but angry at her for putting me through this. 

The brunette kissed my forehead at the hairline, then reached into the hole, and wiped my face with the towel, stroking my hair as I continued to cry, feeling both love and hate for her. I was mad at myself for letting her fool me yet again. I couldn't believe Za'ana convinced the woman getting laid, who must have been one of her sisters, with that identical voice and accent, to help her pull such a cruel prank. I was pissed at both of them. I doubted the farm boy, who was now moaning loudly, was part of the scheme. Admittedly, now that I knew it wasn't my girlfriend, I wished I could also be watching the show going on right above me; the girl was taking quite a pounding. 



Less than a minute later, the redneck was apparently shooting his load, groaning the word 'fuck' several times. There was some hushed conversation, and the woman on top of me was eventually motionless, except for her heavy breathing. After hearing doors shut and a car start outside, Za'ana knocked on the wall. 

The warm girl on top of me arose, and cool air filled the void she left. She felt around my torso and grabbed my hard dick, still taped down, momentarily, then I felt a nice pair of tits press against my stomach before I she left the bed. Seconds later the obnoxious boom box was silenced. My mind raced. Part of me wanted to leave forever, but another part of me was glad it was just another of my sadistic girlfriend's games. I hoped I was going to be released, now that the deception had ended, and I could only imagine what further role her sister would play, if any. I didn't know if it was just going to be the three of us for the week, or maybe the lucky redneck would return. 

Za'ana began her praise for my dedication to her, but was interrupted by her sister's voice through the wall. A short conversation in French ensued, and suddenly the bed in which I was imprisoned moved, and I emerged on the other side, in the lit, sparsely furnished bedroom. My rescuer was a redhead as gorgeous as Za'ana, her red-dyed hair was only to her shoulders, and two narrow blue streaks spanned from the top of her head to her temples. It was a little frizzy and mussed upward from her fuck. She stood barelegged in an oversized orange New York Knicks tank t-shirt, looked down and winked at me as she backed away. 

"Bonsoir, je suis Oksana," the perspiring woman introduced herself with a timid wave, smiling with pity on me, it seemed. I didn't respond, since I was gagged and didn't feel like talking anyway. 

"I've heard a lot... about you," she said, switching to English but becoming uncomfortable with the situation. Maybe she was feeling guilty about helping traumatize me. I was sure I looked like hell, red-eyed and face swollen. 

My girlfriend entered the room and kissed her sister on the cheek. Side by side, I could see that Oksana, who I knew was about twenty-five, was a little shorter, curvier and not as muscular as Za'ana, and her coloring was slightly lighter, even though my girlfriend's spring break tan had faded back to her still-gorgeous caramel color. Their stunning faces were nearly identical, except Oksana's eyes were forest green and upswept slightly. I saw one reason that the imposter couldn't have turned over on her stomach during the sex, as it would have ruined the illusion. Her free swaying breasts, now covered, except for the outer sides, by the tank shirt, were the size of grapefruit. Her nipples were oriented a bit above horizontal and still protruded, and at the moment were smaller than Za'ana's but still substantial. Oksana had several tropical flower and astrological-themed tattoos on her arms and thighs. Her fingers, with neon green nail polish, had multiple rings, including what looked like an engagement solitaire and wedding band. The redhead, whose darker roots revealed her true hair color, had several ear piercings and a small diamond nose stud near her right cheek. My obligatory male survey of the beautiful new acquaintance complete, and my head hanging out of the bed unsupported, I began to fidget against the restraints and grunt complaints into the ball gag. To my surprise, the conspirator came to my defense. 

"Zay, he loves you so much. Why are so you mean to him?" 

"Why don't you put your clothes back on?" Za'ana snapped, pointing at a lacy black bra, panty and pair of cutoff jeans on the floor. "You were supposed to be dressed first." 

"Robert, meet my little sister Oksana," she said, unaware the redhead had spoken to me already, "who frequently forgets her panties." 

Oksana comically stuck her tongue out at her sister behind her back. 

My lover knelt down next to me and sat back on her thighs, and cradled my head, wiping my snotty face with the towel. I hoped she would console me with one of those rubbery nipples, which I knew were lurking under the t-shirt. I didn't care that her sister was in the room; obviously these siblings had very few secrets between them. 

"Let's have it," Za'ana said, reaching backwards with her palm up. 

"I changed my mind. I don't like this," the redhead replied. 

"Give it to me," my girlfriend said, annoyed. 

The object passed forward was a clear sandwich baggie that contained a pink, used condom, The pointed reservoir and hemispherical tip bulged with fluid, and it seemed like the guy's load spilled out the top, as there was a bubbly, pale pink haze of sperm in the bag's corners, along with a several dark pubes. At this point I realized the condom had actually been plain latex beige, and the source of the reddish tint was obvious. 

"Oksana has a present for you!" my girlfriend said. "What's his name?" 

"Duke," her sister replied, stepping into her miniscule black panties and sliding them up under the long t-shirt. Her tits swung in large arcs inside the shirt as she bent over. 



"Robert," Za'ana said, looking at me, "I'm going to remove the gag. I don't want to hear any fucking whining. You will beg me to swallow Duke's spermatozoa, especially after she went to so much trouble to procure it." 

I nodded. Sure, it was a gross cocktail. Another guy's slightly bloody jism. But it couldn't be that different than mine. At her insistence, I had consumed nearly every load I shot since I met her. In the background, Oksana, with the addition of her denim shorts, had faced away from us and distractingly removed her shirt to hook her bra, revealing a large crescent moon tattoo on her shoulder blade, now bisected by a black shoulder strap. 

I gazed into my girlfriend's gorgeous eyes as the ball gag slid out. I felt good to close my mouth for a few seconds. "Please let me suck the jism out of the rubber! Please?" I whined. She made me repeat myself and made sure I used the stranger's name, to emphasize its foreign source. 

Oksana, was now fully dressed, although the tank shirt did not cover the sides of the black lace bra under her arms. She climbed onto the bed on all fours, straddling me, ready to watch the show, her jiggling cleavage displayed a nice one-finger wide gap. From my low angle I could see almost her whole bra beyond the drooping neck of the tank shirt, but the shadows prevented me from completing another mandatory male activity, ascertaining her areola size. 

Za'ana unsealed the baggie and reached into it, tugging on the bulging rubber by the upper edge. The guy must have saved up for a month. The strong smell of sperm and Oksana's vagina, which must have been sore after that onslaught, penetrated my clogged nose.

"Don't swallow until I say so," she instructed, then tipped it up from the end, and a long, string of salty semen landed on my tongue. I gagged a little, as this was my first taste of such fluid in several weeks. It was cooled and no longer very thick, and some of it flowed down and tickled the back of my palate. Oksana winced slightly as I swirled my coated tongue around, displaying my submission to both women. Next the upside down condom was lowered into my open mouth.

"Suck it out! Every drop you disgusting cocksucker!" my lover demanded. "How does my sister's poo-see taste?" 

"Za-ay!" Oksana protested in two syllables, apparently not having thought about her sharp essence on the rubber, squeaking as I surrounded it with my lips and cleaned it off. 

"Delicious, thank you." I mumbled, spilling some of the semen out of the corner of my mouth. 

"Swallow all of Duke's mess and show us your empty mouth." 

Besides the latex and saline genital fluids, my mouth tasted like it did after holding several nails between my lips during carpentry projects, I guessed from the blood. 

More conversation between the women, rope cutting, and sheet removal, and I was exposed to my girlfriend's sister, taped up like a partially completed mummy. They stood on either side of the mattress, and I felt like a patient on an operating table. 

Oksana grabbed the edge of the clear tape that held my semi-hard cock against my stomach and began to tug on it, raising it up and slowly stretching the loose skin into what resembled a shark fin, but it actually felt good. The giggling redhead's fun ended when my girlfriend smacked her hand away, scolding her sister in some language. 

"Relax! I didn't actually touch it!" Oksana explained with a grin, winking at me once more. "Do you have any single brothers as cute as you?"

Before I could answer my girlfriend barked something in Farsi that took the smile off her sister's face for a moment. I nearly laughed as I thought of my geeky, virgin younger brother trying to make out with her. He almost came in his pants whenever my girlfriend kissed him on the cheek. 

Za'ana then began yanking on the ends of the tape and unwrapping my hips like a crazed child opening a present. I grunted as dozens of pubes were also roughly extracted, then groaned in pain as she unwrapped my nuts, intentionally making them bounce and jerk upward as tape unwound. Once my front side was free of tape, my dick was stiff enough that it almost pointed at the ceiling, and Za'ana smacked it several times, as her sister made a gesture of surprise. More blood rushed into it, and I had a huge load building, which was slowly negating my anger at them. 

"Legs in the air!" 



She guided me until I was in the shape of a letter 'C', with my ass facing the ceiling, legs spread, and my stiff dick pointing at my nose. My head was still unsupported, but at least my chin wasn't jammed into my chest. A few pieces of clear tape still clung to my airborne ass, and the girls began yanking those off, again taking pubes with them. I could see Oksana inspecting my asshole and nuts from this new angle as I held my hips up with my elbows on the mattress. 

Several slaps echoed through the room and my cheeks stung as the brunette smacked my upward-facing ass rapidly, alternating sides. Several painful seconds of her long silver fingernails digging into my nuts, squeezing and yanking upward on them followed as Oksana winced, I assume at my pain. Next I watched a smiling Za'ana eject a long string of thick spit down toward my hole, and felt it land just before she began to dig a wiggling finger into it.




Days in Rodanthe



In disbelief of what was happening, I followed her humiliating instructions, my throbbing dick pointing downward. She stepped away for a moment, but returned and I felt something plastic run up my thigh and then between my cheeks. Obviously 'no touching' meant skin-to-skin. I realized she had grabbed the ancient red flyswatter that had hung on the wall. Luckily I had scrubbed it down recently. I braced for a whipping on my bare ass.

Moments later the sting of the swatter registered across my cheeks as Za'ana flogged me rapidly at least a dozen times. I could feel the heat on my skin. I began to relax as she stopped but grunted as my hanging balls were knocked harshly around for several seconds. My eyes watered from the pain.

"Okay, now, your butter finger, in your asshole!"

I had agreed to this game thinking all I would have to do is jerk off while she happily stripped down. I was stupid not to realize there would be much more. Now I was going to have to sodomize myself. Almost in tears and regretting what I had signed up for, I followed her order, and slipped my middle finger into my rectum as Za'ana watched, her face very close by from what I could tell. I'll admit I had done that once out of curiosity in the past, so the sensation was not new.

"Move it around! In and out! Good boy Robert!" she said in that strange accent.

Suddenly I could hear her rummaging around in the fridge. She had me grab a carrot from her.

"Stick this inside. You know you want to show me how well you can do it."

No, I didn't, but thought there was no other choice. I had to keep this scary bitch happy until I could get out of here. So I began to stuff it up my ass. It was cold and much bigger than my finger. Luckily she didn't select one of the zucchinis or yellow squash I bought for her omelets.

"Around in a circle! Yes! Stretch your asshole for me, nice guy Rob! Your dick is still hard! You love this! Now in and out! Faster!"

I couldn't believe I was butt fucking myself with a carrot. I began to feel some strange urges from my intestinal tract and was beginning to sweat.

"Okay stand up! Walk around the room!"

The orange intruder shifted around in my rectum as I stepped gingerly around the kitchen like a show pony, my stiff meat dancing in front of me. Za'ana smiled and moaned approval. She had perched herself on the tabletop, sipping tea, her long legs curled up beneath her. I finally stopped and looked into those beautiful eyes, and my regret lessened slightly; I hoped I was giving her whatever sick pleasure she wanted.

I followed another set of orders, which resulted in me face up on the floor, with my body upside down in the air, leaning against the cabinets. From this position it was clear she wanted me to come on my own face. I resumed stroking, my feet in the air, carrot still lodged in my ass, its orange point sticking out. Again my cock betrayed me and the morals I had been raised with, I was going to blow another load at any moment. I couldn't believe what I was doing, much less in front of anyone. I looked up at beautiful Za'ana as she smiled, kissed the air, then spat on my face again.

"Open! Fill your mouth! Don't you fucking love jerking off for me Robert?"

"Yes!" I said to appease her and in another second I moaned and came, less volume but more intensely than the last time. Afterward I was blinded, sperm in my eyes, hair, and mouth.

"Play with it! Swirl it around!" she said, referring to my coated tongue. "Use your fingers again, suck them."

When I was done, I stood up and Za'ana spoke. I could see her out of one eye through a white haze. I was out of breath.

"Very good, Rob. I have to work now. They told you I am not to be disturbed, correct?" She was smiling sweetly as I nodded. "This was the best breakfast I've had in a very long time. See you tomorrow? Remember our deal."

"Okay," I said, inwardly unsure if I shouldn't just wash up and get in my truck and take off. This was sick and perverted and I could pretend it was all just a bad dream and never happened. The Virginia border was about two hours away. I could leave when she went for a run later and evade her millionaire boyfriend, I thought.

But, for whatever reasons, I stayed. I realized I felt like I did when I first started sneaking around jerking off, when it was new, dirty, forbidden and exciting. There was a kind of a freedom in having your fate, as it was, decided for you as well. Throughout the day I made several urgent trips to the toilet, thanks to my overly stimulated colon. In between two of those trips I watched her run up the beach. She paused and spoke to an older man, and petted his leashed retriever. She also stopped a couple times to practice martial arts punches, flips and spinning kicks into the air. Za'ana looked like she was no amateur. Their was no need for a boyfriend to fly down here and kick my ass; she could do it herself. I began to wonder if she was really a journalist or if something else was going on, but knew I would not ask any questions. Later, she emerged from her room only once and politely asked to borrow my truck; I offered to drive her but she refused, insulted that I asked if she could drive a clutch. She returned a couple hours later. Her coworker picked her up for dinner and they apparently didn't return until after I had gone to sleep.

The next morning I awoke, opening my eyes before touching myself anywhere. My ass was a little sore, and made me realize the previous day was real and I had not been a trained monkey in some nightmarish wet dream. I did my usual morning bathroom hygiene routine and headed upstairs to the kitchen, wondering what twisted adventure awaited me today. As I cooked another omelet and time passed, nerves set in and I began to wonder if I should have just left the state last night when I had the chance.

Suddenly I was glad I stayed. Za'ana strutted into the kitchen in a loose orange t-shirt. It was short and had a large open neck and showed part of a white macramé bikini underneath. The suit was a handmade one like I had seen hanging in the local surf shops. It looked more like pieces of a hammock than a bathing suit, the kind most women say they would never wear in public. Apparently my new acquaintance had borrowed the truck to go shopping yesterday, since the t-shirt was local as well. I was flattered she bought it, apparently for me.

"Surprise! I'm a surfer girl!" she said before sitting at the table. Again she invited me to join her, and we had a pretty normal conversation, with my repeated compliments on how nice she looked. As we finished eating, I began to tremble, unsure what or if anything was next. Maybe she was taking the day off, and the bikini itself was the reward.

"More juice please Rob," she said, "but take off your shorts first." Za'ana's smile dropped from her face. "You masturbating pervert!"

And so it began. After she drank the juice delivered by her bottomless ersatz manservant, she had me begin stroking, standing only a couple feet from her face.

She then walked to the counter and grabbed a plastic grocery back and stuffed several small potatoes into it. For a second I thought I was going to get beaten code red style.

"Here, sit down. Tie this around your balls."

I complied, looping the thin handles around the top of my scrotum and pulling the knot tight. My heart was racing again, as this was getting serious. I was not sure this was worth seeing her naked after all. That's what strippers are for. I sat, holding the bag full of potatoes in my lap.

"Drop them," Za'ana commanded.

I gently lowered the bag.

"No! Pick up and drop!" She demonstrated with her hands what I was to do.

I pulled the bag up until it stretched my nuts off the chair, then let go. I grunted loudly as the weight of the bag painfully yanked my nuts away from my body.

"Okay, keep jerking off you fucking pervert! Stand up! Get one leg on the chair and swing that bag around!"

As I stroked and swung my hips, the laws of momentum made the swinging weight even more painful on my nuts. My eyes watered as my lower body cramped up. I could feel that my face was bright red. Just when I was ready to quit and take my chances by walking out on her and the B&B, she slipped the t-shirt over hear head, displaying the revealing swimsuit. It was not much more than a series of strings connected by knots. There were panels of material woven into the suit at critical places. They covered, just barely, her pubic area and tits.

"Nice hard cock again, Rob! You love jerking it for me, don't you?" She said as I took in the view. She made kissing motions and teasing, mock adjustments to the strings of her suit.

Her body was thin but not boney; she had good muscle tone, a flat stomach and moderately wide hips. Despite her naturally bronze complexion, she had some tan lines, although they matched the golfer's pattern of a tank top and shorts. Za'ana's breasts were small, low on her ribcage but protruded nicely. She had a few scars on her limbs, but no tattoos or piercings that I could currently see, except her ears. I kept stroking and gawking at her, and a dinner plate for my jizz was placed in front of me on the chair. Since she was close, she spat in my eye.

Soon she was flogging my ass again with the swatter and an intense burst of sperm splattered onto the plate. After I had tilted up the plate over my head to coat my face, she slapped my jaw with the swatter, and jizz went flying everywhere as she laughed. Finally, after I licked the plate clean, I was told to free my aching balls from the bag of potatoes. I was catching my breath, happy that at least I didn't have to stick anything up my ass this time.

"Okay, out here, I've got another surprise," she commanded, pointing to the front porch. The front deck was covered and enclosed with screens, but could be seen from certain angles beyond the dunes and swaying sea oats. I reached for my shorts.

"No fucking shorts! There's no one around! Get your bare ass out here or I call my fiance!"

The view I had of Za'ana was from the side as she held the front door open. There was bare skin from her neck to her foot, crisscrossed only by a two strings. I walked out onto the porch, in a t-shirt only, fully illuminated by the morning sun. My embarrasment over potentially being seen bare-assed was forgotten when I saw my next challenge.

Besides putting on the bikini, Za'ana had been a busy girl earlier this morning. She had gotten into my truck's toolbox. One of the wooden benches was placed in the middle of the porch. Screwed into the top was a small shelf board. To that board, attached from the bottom, was the lower seven inches of a table leg, its rounded end sticking strait up. It looked like it was coated with Vaseline. My drill, hand saw, and the sacrificed end table were placed in the corner.

"Another surprise! Shove that wood up your fucking ass and show the neighbors and the fishermen how good you can jerk your cock!"

If someone on the decks of either one of the neighboring houses in the distance or someone on the beach at the shoreline was really looking, they might be able to see. I walked over to the bench and realized this homemade dildo was over an inch and a half wide. This was going to hurt like hell. Za'ana sat on another bench and leaned in behind me to watch close up. I spread my ass cheeks with both hands at her direction and slowly lowered myself onto the wooden leg. Despite the lube, it started to spread the ring of muscle around my hole painfully, and I pulled up.

"It's too big. I can't do this!" I said, breathing hard, staring out at the crashing waves.

"What?" Za'ana stood and walked around to face me, her hair blowing in the breeze. "You don't like my presents? I wear this whore outfit and make a nice wood pole for you and you don't like? I'm going to get my phone!" Her small tits jiggled in the flimsy bikini as she gestured angrily.

"Okay! Okay! Don't call! I love your presents!" I said. "And I'll keep trying..."

"You sit on that fucking wood stick all the way in your asshole Rob!" She moved in closer and spat in my eye, which was stinging from sweat already.

As she watched behind me, I descended again, trying to relax my spinchter. On the fourth, grunting try, I was able to align everything and get it inside. My breath was quick and shallow as I slowly slid the rest of the way down. My anus throbbed against the solid wood. Relieved, I began to yank on my cock, which had betrayed my upbringing once again and grown during the ordeal.

"Now, stand up!" she said.

I stood up, freeing the post, and then had to noisily repeat the tense entry several times at her insistance. A truck would be able to drive into my asshole when she was finished with it, I joked to myself. Just when I had gotten settled in, growing slightly acclimated to what felt like a baseball bat up my ass, she spoke again.

"Up and down! Faster!" Came the command from down low and behind me. Maybe her journalism specialty was proctology, I thought. Such inane thoughts diverted my attention from the throbbing mush that my asshole was becoming.

I began to ride the dildo, my stroking hand moving at twice the pace. My knees and thigh muscles were starting to burn a little. I had chills up and down my spine and was sweating to the point that all traces of earlier sperm load that I had to smear on my face were gone.

Za'ana, who had apparently had her fill of watching the destruction of my rectum, came back around in front of me, spat on my cheek, then backed away. She cheered me on as I kept stroking, making kissing motions with that beautiful mouth. She began to play with the bikini strings, which tied at the outside of each hip. I watched as she tugged teasingly as the suit began to fall away. She spun around quickly, holding the fabric just low enough to reveal most of her beautiful, quivering ass for a minute or so, bending forward, bouncing on her heels and arching her back. She looked back over her shoulder and told me that she knew how much I loved doing these things for her. Her red nails dug into the soft flesh as she grasped a handful of cheek and caressed it, then slapped herself just like a stripper. I took in the awesome view, frantically whacking away at my stiff dick, until I announced I was coming. She quickly pulled the bikini up and turned around, and told me to shoot into my other hand. After I lifted myself off the dildo, I was told to bend over and display my open, ravaged asshole to Za'ana while I wiped my load into my ass crack. She watched and laughed and commented in English and another language as my dripping, distended rectum slowly closed. Soon she and her macramé swimsuit had disappeared into her room as I limped back to mine.

Later, she left for a run, and again I watched out the window. Oddly, she encountered the same man with the same dog again, in practically the same spot, even though it was a different time of day. She crouched down to pet the friendly Golden Retriever, and adjusted the dog's collar. Throughout the day, I could hear her in her room, at times yelling on her cell phone in what sounded like a least two different languages besides French. I also knew she would scale the stairs to the rooftop deck in the wee hours of the morning with one of the aluminum cases. I reasoned she had a satellite uplink and was sending her story to her news service, whoever they were. Or, maybe she was a covert agent and the man with the dog was her contact, and the retriever's collar held a microchip with top secret information; but I had probably been watching too many spy movies. Later on the same day as my front porch anal ordeal, Za'ana was dressed in her long dress and headscarf once again, lugging a suitcase out to her coworker's van. It was plain white with no hint of what media outlet she worked for. I found a computer- printed note on the fridge that said she would not be back for a few days.

I took some ibuprofen and slept for a while, then packed up my stuff. I was going to leave, but never got around to it. Other than frequent trips to the bathroom, the next few days were very quiet and I found myself missing her and the adrenaline rushes she created. I thought about her evident appetites, and realized it must be hard to find someone, especially in whatever closed society she came from, that would aquiesce to her demands such as I had so far. Za'ana had kept her word about showing some skin in return; her jiggling ass was beautiful. I decided not to abandon her or the B&B in desolate Rodanthe just yet.





Days in Rodanthe



"Get some in your mouth! Open up!" Za'ana said with enthusiasm, leaning forward, undaunted by the overspray caused by the random breeze.

I winced as my piss spashed onto my face and stung my eyes, then the sharp tasting, salty liquid passed my lips. The slight smell of the beer was detectable as well. I directed the over half minute-long bladder elimination up and down my body, drenching me and creating trails down the roof shingles below the deck. Suddenly I started to get cold. It doesn't stay warm long apparently. That was okay, as I was ready to see her soaked as well.

Za'ana's tone changed once again to a serious one. "Now you shit your pants!"

Again I felt duped about the whole deal and began to wish I bolted when I had the chance. But I wanted to see her naked. So, I relaxed the other set of muscles for a moment until I felt a soft warm foreign object between my cheeks. I rolled my hip up to show her, as the wet pajamas were now see-through. It was just the solid start of a massive beer shit that was building within. My ass was still I little sore from days ago and holding back was taking some effort.

"No! All of it! Let's see that pizza! Let me hear your noises!"

I returned to my slouching position. By 'noises' I assume she meant gas, so I unclenched and let everything fly. Random and repetitive gurgling, squishing and plopping noises accompanied the feeling of warm soft mush that forced its way up my ass crack and down between my legs, pulling the cheap, soaked pajamas tight agaist my thighs. My hips jolted as I squeezed out the remaining liquidy goop. The smell wafted across my nose.

"Oh that stinks, even up here in the wind!" she said, smiling but holding her nose. "Sit up and smear it around." She moved her hips around to demonstrate what she wanted.

I raised my hips and planted my butt on the bench. It was like sitting in a big mud puddle. My ass slid around, pressing brown liquid out through the pajamas.

"Very good Rob! I'll be back " Za'ana said, as she dashed down the stairs.

A slight panic overtook me. It was a Sunday morning. By all rights I could have been in the dorm, waking up next to some smoking hot sorority girl that I had banged the previous night. But I knew that my geeky attempts at romance were mostly dismal failures, and I would have most likely have been alone. So here I was, on the upper deck of a beach house, soaked in piss and wallowing in feces. I wondered if a guy with a video camera was going to appear any minute now.

The paranoia disappeared and my cock twitched as Za'ana returned. She was soaking wet, covered with goosebumps, wearing the new yellow see-through top and the macramé bottom from the previous day. Her small tits were stunning, with dark, erect nipples as big as macadamia nuts. Her stiffened, gathered areolas were each peppered with a ring of bumps the size of buckshot. She exclaimed several words in one of her languages, apparently about how cold she was.

"You like?"

I answered her unnecessary question with an enthusiastic yes and immediately I began to stroke my dick, which had been sticking out of the fly of the piss-soaked pajamas the whole time. A softball-sized patty of shit was suspended between my legs beneath my balls, and the deck looked like a coffee maker accident, with brown liquid dripping from the seat.

Za'ana stood and smiled as I yanked on my stiffening dick. A dialouge about how much I loved shitting my pants and jerking off for her ensued. In no time I was ready to shoot, and I grunted as most of my load splashed into my other hand. Now that I had come and smeared it on my face per her instructions, I was hoping she would let me go down to that outside shower and rinse off for an hour or two. She had other ideas.

"Jerk again. Scoop the shit out and rub it on your balls and cock!"

I had managed to keep my hands free of shit so far. Squeamishly I reached down and encountered the putrid gunk that had been in my colon minutes before. I got some on two fingers and slid them across my soft dick.

"More! Whole handfuls!"

So I dutifully retrieved more and slathered it all over my groin. I stared at this beautiful girl as the brown mush, no longer warm, flew off in several directions while I used it like a thick lube to jerk my dick. There was more traffic on the highway behind me and the sun was climbing higher in the sky. Anyone on the beach within a hundred yards could have easily seen what was going on. Still, I stroked away on my brown coated cock, staring at her beautiful face and tits, finally coming after several minutes.

I spent the next two hours cleaning up. What a mess, even after a long outside and inside shower and cleaning under my fingernails I could still smell it on my hand. But, it had been a rush and was worth it. Breakfast ended up being served at lunch time. I couldn't believe she let me prepare her food after I had been ground zero for germs earlier. Later, as I dragged a garden hose to the upper deck to wash it down, I watched her run down the beach, again meeting the man with the retriever.

I had no contact with my twisted housemate until the next morning. She awakened me even earlier, by spitting on my face several times. She was in a foul mood, but was dressed the same, in a zippered hoodie and shorts. Again I was not allowed to use the bathroom, so I knew what was coming. I had refrained from taking a dump before now, since a low volume might be constrained to be reluctance on my part.

"Here, you fucking nasty masturbating pervert, Put these on," Za'ana said. "Now!"

As she gestured, it looked like whatever she wore under her hoodie was not very restraining. Maybe today was braless t-shirt day, I hoped.

I expected more high-fashion three dollar pajamas, but she handed me a package of panty hose. I rolled my eyes and clumsily stuffed my legs and naked body into them as the saliva from her wake up call drained down my neck. The beautiful but incensed brunette had me take one of my keys off the nightstand and tear a hole in the front of the panty hose for my dick, which was to remain sticking out. She had me slip on a t-shirt and once again we were on our way to the top deck. I felt really stupid outdoors in the weird-feeling hose with my soft pecker waving around, but that was her intent. Expecting the same routine, I sat in the same corner.

"No. Stand. Face me. Stuff your dick inside, pointing up."

I did so, and the hose stretched across the underside of my cock, which was growing slightly.

"Now face the sun so I can see. Piss, no hands."

I felt the warm liquid travel up as far as the waistband before it cascaded down my legs and puddled at my shiny, enshrouded feet, dripping through gaps in the deck boards. Soon the breeze chilled my legs.

"Nice, turn around, bend over. Let's see your bowels! Show me the leftover pizza!" she barked, referring to my dinner last night.

A loud, long, trumpeting fart ensued, and Za'ana cheered and clapped lightly, to my surprise. I squeezed ardently, and felt the stretchy material resist my effort to lauch my thick rockets and soon felt them flattened and bulging, creeping slowly down the back of one thigh. The smell was sharper but less intense than the day before.

"Okay turn around. Stick your hand down the back and scoop and start jerking with your nasty shit. Sit and smear it again."

As I followed her instructions and realized there had been no bargaining for wet bikini tops yet, so today might be a freebie for her. I would have to rely on my memories of the previous day's fantastic view if necessary. I coated and briskly pumped my cock, stopping only to tweak the head a little or play with my balls.

To my surprise, Za'ana reached down to her waist and slid her running shorts off to reveal a shiny yellow bikini bottom. She had carried up a bottle of water, which I had thought was strange. Now I knew why.

"Look at you! Sitting in shit and jerking your hard cock and loving it, aren't you Rob?" Her voice and accent carried above the wind.

"Yes!"

"You know this is the transparent suit like the top yesterday. Do you want me to pour this water on it?" She shook the bottle. "Maybe I should drink it?"

"Pour it! Don't drink it!" I pleaded as my arm continued flailing up and down.

Za'ana sat up and held her thighs together, pushed the hoodie up and slowly poured the water onto her lower stomach, and the crotch of the yellow suit became transparent, revealing a dark bush beneath.

I kept yanking away as she teased me more.

"You want me to open my legs like a common whore?"

"Please!"

My eyes were locked on her as her thighs slowly spread. She splashed more water, making a puddle beneath her. It became apparent that there was a sweet pair of protruding, thick, irregular lips crammed into that small bikini bottom. They moved as she scooted her hips and then she harshly tugged upward on the suit, creating a deep divide between them. I could hold back no more, and shot into my clean hand. She closed her legs but maintained the camel toe as I held a palm full of sperm, tinted slightly brown since some of it contacted my shit-coated fingers on the way out. She had me drizzle it on my extended tongue this time. I started pulling on my dick again as I watched her unzip the hoodie. The sun was rising behind her and obscured my view somewhat, but it looked like I was wrong about braless t-shirt day. She wore nothing underneath.

"You like? I dressed up like a high school slut just for you Rob." She looked at me with those stunning brown eyes.

Za'ana gradually opened the jacket, showing me her beautiful bare chest. She scraped the zipper across her nipples, then rubbed and yanked on them, causing her whole tit to jiggle as it snapped back. She thrust her ribcage forward and hips back playfully, then bounced up and down on her butt for several seconds.

"Look, I'm jerk off Rob!" she said insultingly as her tits gyrated around chaotically, "Sticking the wood up my ass! Pissing and shitting myself! I love doing perverted nasty things for Za'ana!"

The sight of her gorgeous face and those perfect tits is not one I'll ever forget. It wasn't long before I was shooting again. My fourth load in two days, it wasn't big but it felt good as is flowed out of my shit-coated meat. Another long cleanup ensued, and she left soon afterward for several days. Like a drug addict, I was hooked, and couldn't wait for her to return.