****** The Accident by Scathole ******
===============================================================================

The Accident


The alarm didn't go off. By the time I awoke, it was nearly nine o'clock. If I
pushed it, I could still get to my office by 9:30. I just started this new job
the week before, so I was still on "probation." And my new boss, Kevin Blake,
who looked more like he belonged in Calvin Klein underwear ads than behind a
corporate desk, seemed to be paying an awful lot of attention to me. I didn't
want to be late.

I dressed in a flash and tore out of the house, hoping that my morning breath
would dissipate before I got to work. My BMW convertible got me through the
traffic and into the parking garage in record time. Then, fate opened a parking
spot on the first level, right by the elevators. It was going to be a good day
after all.

I entered the elevator and punched twenty-six, the floor where my new firm
SkyHi Technology had its offices. Expecting an express ride up, I was surprised
when the elevator stopped on the first floor. The doors opened, and in stepped
Kevin Blake.

"Good morning, Mr. Blake," I greeted.

"Good morning, Tom," he replied.

The doors closed as he stepped back and leaned against the back wall beside me.
We both gripped our briefcases at our side; neither of us spoke.

Suddenly, there was a thump, and the car lurched to a halt. The lighted floor
numbers glowed between the 20th and the 21st floors. Mr Blake opened the
communications box and put the emergency phone to his ear.

"Yes, I see. So how long...? Well, please try and hurry," he spoke into the
phone. Then he turned to me. "They don't know how long this will take, they
called a representative of the elevator company, but they don't know how long
it will take for him to arrive. I guess we need to make ourselves comfortable."

We set our briefcases down and began to chit-chat. We talked about my recent
relocation. I was surprised to learn that he grew up in a small town less than
fifty miles from me, in rural Wyoming. That opened the door for a lot of
reminiscing about our common roots.

Suddenly, I felt a rumbling in my gut. I've always been an "every other day"
shitter, and yesterday was supposed to be my day. However, I had such a busy
schedule that I hadn't ever made it to the bathroom. Then, last night I'd been
so tired that I fell asleep without even pissing. The way the morning started
out, I had no time for toiletries, so I figured I'd take a break as soon as I
checked in at my desk. Now this.

I tried to concentrate on our conversation, but the pressure on my asshole grew
increasingly difficult to ignore. The words began to blur together, and I
stopped being sure of what either of us was saying. I could feel my face redden
as I tried to hold three days' worth of shit back. I fidgeted from foot to
foot, but nothing relieved the pressure.

The it happened. Silently, but with the force of a bulldozer, a log of shit as
wide as a beer can and as long as a freight train passed from my rectum to my
Jockeys. I feared that my humiliation would be completed by a torrential flood
of piss, but the pressure of the building pile of shit against my balls caused
my cock to swell within the tightening confines of my shorts and I haven't been
able to piss with a hard on since I was twelve.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Blake's voice cut through my trance.

"I'm fine," I replied even as more shit coursed its way out of my ass and into
my underwear.

The odor finally made its way to my nostrils. I looked into my boss's face for
signs that he, too, smelled the pile that now caused my pants to bulge, but saw
nothing.

The elevator suddenly lunged upward and then slowed to another stop at the 26th
floor. The doors began to open; I intended to race to the men's room to clean
up. Mr. Blake's hand touched my shoulder.

"Come with me to my office, Tom," he said, gently but firmly guiding me away
from the bathroom.

"I'll join you in a second," I said, trying to turn away.

"Now," he stated.

"I don't want to be disturbed," he said to his secretary as we passed her desk.
We passed through the open door to his office, and he shut the door. Before I
could react, his hand left my shoulder and grabbed my buttock.

"Well, well. What have we here?" he smirked as his hand found the still-warm
mound.

"I... errrrr" I stammered. It was then, as I lowered my eyes in shame, that I
saw the tent in the front of Mr. Blake's pants. My shit was turning him on.

"I shit my pants," I said.

"So I see. Mind if I join you?"

The sound of a fart cut the silence; I gripped his ass with both my hands. As
he groaned I could feel the pile build at his backside. We stood, cock to cock
as he finished emptying his bowels.

"Let's go in here," he said, leading me to what turned out to be a private gym.
He took off his coat and draped it over the bar of a free weight. Then, he
kicked out of his shoes.

"Well, are you going to join me?" he asked as he loosened his tie.

I followed his lead, removing my outer wear in moments. We stood, facing each
other in just our socks and shit-filled underwear. He reached for me and drew
me into a tight embrace. Our lips met, and our cocks ground against one
another. As we kissed, his hand snaked its way to my ass; his fingers lifted
the leg elastic of my Jockeys. He brought out two dime-sized marbles of my
shit.

"Tootsie Rolls, only better for you," he laughed. "Less sugar!"

He popped one of the turds into his mouth and offered the other to me. Though I
had never imagined eating shit before, at that moment nothing seemed more
natural. I rolled it over my tongue, exploring the texture while allowing my
taste buds to gradually acquaint themselves with the slightly bitter flavor.

"Lay over here," his voice brought me back to the room.

I laid down on a weight bench. He straddled my chest with his ass near my face,
the brown stain obvious for the first time. He struggled to free my nine inch,
uncut cock from the fly of my shorts without disturbing the massive mound that
stretched them tight. Once free, his lips encircled the shaft, and he lowered
his head until his jaw touched my pubic bone.

With my cock deep in his throat, he lowered his ass to my face. My nose pressed
into his shit, protected only by the thin layer of cotton brief. Shit oozed out
under the leg bands, which he proceeded to smear all over my face.

"I need to be fucked," he said, abandoning my cock for a moment. He jumped up
and turned around. He pulled aside the leg of his shorts and sat on my
erection. It easily slid through the clinging shit and into his empty hole. He
literally threw himself up and down on my cock.

"Fuck me. Fuck my shitty ass!" he screamed.

I couldn't hold out long. Orgasm began at my toes and surged up to my cock.

"Aaaaaagggggggghhhhhhhh!!!" I cried, as I began to pump jism into his filthy
ass.

"I'm cumming," he cried. Semen shot from his cock and flooded my chest, even
though his cock remained untouched and encased in his underwear.

With my cock still buried in his asshole, he collapsed on my chest. As my
erection abated, my violent urge to piss returned.

"I gotta piss, man. Let me up," I implored.

He didn't move. Nature kept me from arguing for long. With my now-deflated cock
buried in his ass, I filled my boss with a gallon of near-boiling urine. Once
the flow finally stopped, he sat up.

"Mr. Blake..."

"I think it's time you started calling me Kevin, don't you?" he asked. "Clean
up in here and then come into the bathroom for a shower. When that's through,
you can go and clean out your desk..."

"Wha...?" I gasped.

.".. And move your things in here. After all, you are my new personal
assistant," he winked. "Very personal."

scat_hole@hotmail.com

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