scat
I was dating a glamour model in the early nineties when I first heard those rare words: "Do you wanna try scat?" Such was my enthusiasm that I forced one out right there and then, in my pants and at the wine bar. That should have ended the relationship, but she was as dumb as she was hot, so she gave me a second chance.

We decided to plan it carefully in advance. We both ate plenty of fibre that morning to ensure a firm stool. I had my anal hair waxed to avoid cling-ons and we purchased plenty of plastic dust sheets to protect the carpet. I even bought a CD of mood music called "Cool Moods For Scat Play" featuring a lot of Kenny G.

"So how do we do it?" I asked her. "Do I crap on you, or do you want to drop one on me?" Apparently this was beginner stuff. Instead, I was to lie under a glass topped table while she squatted above it to give me a view of her dilating ring and the emerging log. Then I would toss myself off. Such was the plan.

In actuality, the first twitching of her knot presented a tear of pale brown liquid, then a dramatic eruption of watery dribble that splashed on to the table top and kept coming like a cataract of raw sewage. It rained down the sides of the table each side of my head, dripping on to the carpet as Kenny G's saxophone played melodiously in the background.

I felt curiously unaroused by the situation, although she seemed to be well into it, bubbling and squirting in a world of her own as the torrent of ordure splashed forth. Not wanting to seem a beginner, I reached down and squeezed out a firm log into my palm, which I then lobbed up and around so that it cartwheeled through space to land square and upright upon her shoulder like a malformed and reeking parrot.

The surprise of this caused her to scream and fall into the pond of tepid sludge on the glass tabletop, her buttocks squelching flatly at me through the brownness. The sight of this finally injected some stiffness into my tool and I began to stroke it to a climax.

Unfortunately, that's when the glass broke and I was almost crushed to death by a falling glamour model caked in filth. She had to have 23 stitches in her buttocks and I had to accompany her to the hospital. Now, I can't listen to Kenny G without remembering that time.
(frankspencer, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 11:10, 6 replies)

awesome
That's just what I was waiting for.
( Bazongaloid, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 11:16, closed)

Contragulations...
I am now a fan of scat pron.
( girlinthehole, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 11:20, closed)

So funny
I had to disguise my laughter with a (rather poo-r) attempt at a coughing fit
(bamboozled Can hear you getting fatter, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 11:30, closed)

I feel that way about Kenny G
and I haven't had to watch anyone shitting above my face. He just has that effect on my anyway.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 28 Mar 2008, 11:42, closed)

I am Kenny G
...and I will shit on your face any time (except Saturdays, for obvious reasons)

Disclaimer: I am not actually Kenny G (damn the 7 day sign-up rule), but the offer still stands.
( Fireflier La la la la, not listening on, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 13:24, closed)

Nonce
I strongly suspect the QOTW frontpage this week is going to be filled with frankspencer's utterly pointless but highly entertaining nonsense :)
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Fri 28 Mar 2008, 14:21, closed)