From: slick@ican.net (Slick)
Subject: Afternoon Delight (m/m, scat, ws)
Date: Fri, 12 Sep 1997 07:46:16 GMT

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT
FICTIONAL STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER
18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN READING
ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND
ACTIVITIES.


--AFTERNOON DELIGHT--

The sun beat down fiercely on the hard surfaces of the apartment
courtyard.  My body was bathed in sweat.  I kept my eyes closed
against the sunlight, telling myself for the thousandth time I would
not open them to look across the 30 feet of garish blue swimming pool
to where TJ Cox lay sprawled on a chaise lounge.  The only others
about were Mrs. Finch, the frumpy manager, and two of her cronies in
deck chairs down at the shady end, aborbed in their beer and their
gossip.

I had seen him cross the concrete deck 20 minutes ago.  He wore
mirrored sunglasses.  A tiny black bikini clung to his slim hips.  A
strip of material hid only the crack between his magnificent buttocks
and provided a small pouch to hold his ample genitals.  One of the
threadbare towels provided by the management was slung around TJ's
slender but sinewy neck.

I had quickly shut my eyes as TJ had passed, although I was sure he
had not deigned to look in my direction.  In fact he had given no
sign that he was aware of my presence during the three months I had
lived in the building.  I told myself I had chosen the place because
it was cheap and convenient to the university campus, where I was a
graduate student in the music department, but I knew that spotting TJ
Cox emerging from the entrance, with its `vacancy' sign, and climbing
into his battered red Mustang had been the deciding factor.

I had seen TJ, a freshman, around the campus a number of times over
the preceeding year.  Each time was like a revelation.  He was
beautiful in that sun-goldened way that only seems to grace blond
young men from California.  His height was average, or perhaps a
little less, but his body was extraordinary--slim but muscular and,
as I had been able to observe when I could catch him poolside, smooth
and honey-colored.

His place was three doors from mine along the rather rickety balcony
that gave access to the second floor apartments.  A number of times,
passing his window after dark, I had attempted to peek through the
crack between curtain and frame, hoping for a more complete view of
the fabulous TJ.  Once, only once, I had caught him naked, bent over
as he retreived a book from the floor.  I managed a full inspection
of his long, lithe legs and, best of all, of his perfect little buns.
In the onrush of my excitement, I had fallen against the window,
making a racket.  I fled around the corner of the building and looked
back to see the drape being roughly yanked back into position,
extinguishing the strip of light from TJ's room.

For days I had avoided crossing in front of his apartment, taking the
longer way down another staircase.  I was terrified that he knew it
was me out there, peeping at him like some pervert.  And I tried to
make my expression more neutral, to hide the mute longing that would
otherwise betray me, when we passed in the courtyard or on campus.  I
veered wildly back and forth between a conviction that the blond
youth knew I was smitten, and had dismissed me as a contemptible
faggot, and and the certainty that he was completely ignorant of my
existence.  I couldn't decide which would be worse.

There must have been five years difference in our ages and, of
course, we shared no classes.  I had never seen him at any of the
functions--meetings, parties--organized by the university's gay
community.  But neither had I ever seen him with a girl.  Did he have
a sex life, I wondered? Who were his friends? Would we ever speak?
How big was his cock? (I spent the most time pondering this last
question, I'll admit.)

I could hold out no longer.  I opened my eyes to slits to hide my
perusal of him and stared across the pool at TJ.  He lay on his back,
hands clasped behind his head.  The position emphasized the sizeable
muscles in his upper arms and the sharply defined planes of his
pectorals and hard belly.  His legs were splayed.  The bulge of his
basket seemed enormous.  He turned his head and looked directly
toward me.  Did he gesture with his chin, inviting me to approach? It
didn't seem likely.  I continued to lie still, but began to breath
harder.

There was no mistaking his intention as he freed his hand from behind
his neck and signaled me with his finger.  I was being summoned.  As
I stood to make my way toward him, I was aware of the sudden
hardening at my loin, of the obscene bulge in the front of my trunks.
I quickly hung my towel around my neck, carefully draping it to hide
the evidence of my arousal, and hurried toward him.

I stood before him as he looked me up and down.  His light colored,
grey eyes were piercing in their intensity.  When he spoke his voice
was deep and musical.  A faint smile played on his thin, well-shaped
lips.  "You got the time?" he asked.

For a moment, the question perplexed me.  I stood there mute and
confused.  "What time is it, man?" he asked again, with some
exasperation.

"Oh, the time," I answered, almost stammering.  "I'm not wearing my
watch, it's there with my stuff." I gestured back toward my own
lounge.

TJ continued to stare up at me, waiting for me to do the obvious.

I returned to my place and scrabbled anxiously through books, jars of
lotion, a tee shirt, seaching for the watch.  Finding it, I returned
to where he lay and managed to blurt, "It's almost four.  Twenty
til."

Once more I was caught in the grey intensity of his gaze.  "Be up at
my apartment at four o'clock," he said, finally.  "I'll let you lick
my asshole."  His hand moved to his taut belly where he scratched
lazily before reclasping it behind his head.  He closed his eyes.

Although dismissed, I continued to stand there shakily.  I couldn't
credit what I had just heard, what he had just said.  It was so
unbelievably crude, so incredibly arrogant.

I looked over at Mrs. Finch and her harpies.  They had heard nothing.


Back on my own lounge, I began to fume.  Who the fuck did TJ Cox
think he was, I asked myself? Even looking as he did, there were
limits.  Fuck him.  Let him lick his own asshole.  Jesus.  What a
thing to say.  He could have said, "We can get it on," or even, "You
can go down on me." Well, if he thought I was going to show up at
four for that kind of scene, he was crazy as well as arrogant.

I heard the creak of springs from TJ's lounge and, without willing
it, looked over toward him.  He had flipped over onto his front.  The
spherical contours of his trim little butt were on display in the
afternoon sunlight.  I could see the little creases where buttock met
thigh, the dimples at the top of the smooth globes.  His legs were
spread again so that only the scanty strip of black material
prevented me from seeing right into his crack.  I wondered if he was
as hairless there as were his chest and buns.  I wondered whether his
anus was pink and puckered.  I wondered how big the hole was.  My
erection returned with such intensity that I had to flip over myself
to hide it.

Ten minutes later I opened one eye to watch TJ pass on his way to his
room.  He did not look down at me.

At five minutes to four, I rose and jumped into the pool and swam
three lengths.  By one minute to four I was climbing the stairs.  By
four o'clock I was pressing his door bell.

As I stood on the balcony outside TJ's apartment, I heard a shower
splashing and then ceasing.  A few moments later, he pulled the door
open and looked out at me.  I slipped inside.  He now wore only a
clean towel around his waist.  His tousled blond hair was still wet
from his shower.  He was breathtaking.  I hated him.  I loved him.

He sauntered into the kitchen and I heard the door of a refrigerator
open and then shut.  He returned carrying two cans of beer and handed
one to me.  He flopped onto the couch.  I remained standing.  His
towel had ridden up so that I could see the head of his dick, rosy,
bulbous, and the beginning of what I judged must be a long cylinder
of shaft.  I longed to touch it, taste it, make love to it.  I could
also make out a portion of his scrotum in the shadowy area between
his legs.  He noted where my gaze was riveted.

"So.  You made it," he said.  For the first time, he smiled.

"I had decided I wouldn't come," I said.  "But here I am.  Your
graceful invitation, I guess.  You've really got a way with words,
you know?"

He patted the couch and I sat down.

"I don't believe it bullshitting around, man."

"My name is Cory," I said.  "You're TJ, right?"

"Yeah.  Look.  Cory.  Let's be honest.  I get hit on a lot.  People
seem to like the way I look.  So I want to be straight about what's
going down." He smiled again.  "Who's going down," he ammended.

"Strictly top, huh? Strictly trade.  Is that it?"

"I don't know the terms you people use, but I know what I dig, man.
Cory. I like getting my dick sucked.  I love getting rimmed.  I might
even fuck you.  But I got no interest in your dick, man.  Shit, I
don't even eat pussy."

"Well," I answered, "it's a long time since I've made it with anyone
where there's no reciprocity.  But your hard to resist, TJ.  I guess
we'll both have to dedicate ourselves to taking care of your cock." I
reached forward toward him.  My hand slipped beneath the towel.  I
grasped the warm, pliant flesh of his penis and began to squeeze it
gently.  Immediately, it began to lengthen and grow hard.  It was as
big as I had hoped it would be.

He untied the towel, pulled it from under his rump and tossed it on
the floor.  As I moved closer to him and began to lower my head
toward his crotch, he stopped me.

"Like, I said.  I want you to eat out my ass, first.  Lie down.  I'll
sit on your face."

I did as TJ instructed.  He squatted over me, facing toward my feet.
As he lowered his ass toward my mouth, he pulled his cheeks apart,
exposing what lay in the tight crack between them.  There was no
hair. His asshole was pink and puckered, like a rosebud.  I smelled
only his sunwarmed flesh and the soap from his recent shower.

The clenched hole was small until I began working on it with my lips
and tongue.  TJ's sphincter dilated and my tongue slipped inside him.
I forced it upward and began exploring the satiny, slimy walls of his
rectal tube.  I alternated vigorous probes with my tongue with
attempts to suck as hard as I could on his hole.  A few moments of
these ministrations and I began to taste his shit.  The flavor was
nutty, delicious.  I grew delerious with the flavor of him.

With one hand I reached around stroked the hard nine inches of his
erect cock.  With the other I fondled his big balls, hanging down
over my chin.

He squirmed, mashing his hard buns all over my face, delighted with
what I was doing to him.  But he kept his asshole positioned directly
over my mouth so that I could continue to suck on it and lick up
inside his rectum. "Oh, that's bithchin', man," he grunted.  "I love
the way you eat my ass.  Get your tongue in really deep.  Clean it
for me, Cory."

I did as he told me, loving it as much as he did.

He lifted his foot and placed his heel on my belly, just above my
cock.  He began to poke my cock with his foot, batting it back and
forth.

"Your dick is like a rock, man.  You really dig eating my shit hole,
don't you?"

I could only answer by thrusting my tongue even further up his chute.
My tongue encountered the soft, crumbly texture of a turd lodged in
his gut.  Still, I didn't stop.  I had never done anything so dirty,
so abasing before.  I wanted never to stop.

TJ, too, grew more and more excited.  I was startled to feel the turd
begin to descend.  Now I was frightened, but I was trapped beneath
him. He could do as he wanted.  I couldn't believe he would actually
try to shit in my mouth.  People didn't do that to each other, did
they? Why would TJ want to subject me to that? Why would I let him do
it?

"Now you're going to eat my shit, man," TJ told me.  "I'm going to
dump a turd right in your mouth.  You ready?"

His sphincter opened even more widely and he grunted slightly as he
strained to force the stool into my mouth.  It slid past my lips and
over my tongue.  It felt long and slippery now as it moved toward the
back of my mouth.

"Suck it," he commanded.  "Suck the turd out of my asshole, Cory.  Oh
yeah.  Oh, yeah.  You're doing fine, piggy."

Before we were finished, TJ ejected three large turds into my mouth.
I chewed and swallowed them, wallowing in the filth he forced into
me.

When he had no more shit to expel, I licked him clean, making sure no
trace of feces remained to stain the perfection of his rectum, his
anus, the warm cleft of his buttocks.  Only when I had finished
cleaning him with my lips and tongue did he let me up.

As I rushed into the bathroom to vomit up the mess he had filled me
with, I heard him say, "Now clean yourself up, man.  When you get
back, you can suck my dick until I come.  If you do a good job, I'll
let you drink my piss, afterwards.  You think you'll like that?"

I couldn't wait to get back to TJ.



I sunk to me my knees in the steamy shower stall.  TJ stood before
me, legs slightly parted, fingering the limber length of his now
flaccid cock.  He aimed it at the middle of my chest.  I waited.

Now I could see the urethra dilate.  The lips of his piss hole
actually curled back.  The orifice gaped open and I could see the
shiny pink of the membrane that lined it.  Suddenly a pencil-thick
stream of bright yellow urine gushed out, hitting me squarely between
my nipples.  The smell was sharp, acrid.

TJ played the stream of piss all over me, taking care to wet me
everywhere.  My own cock was rock-hard as he pissed on my crotch.

The stream moved back up my body and did not stop as it reached my
throat.  It continued up past my chin and sprayed all over my face
and head, drenching my hair.  Now TJ stepped closer to me so he could
improve his aim.  As I opened my eyes, I could see that he had
stopped pissing for a moment but that his cock was pointed directly
at my mouth.

"Open up, you slut," he said.  "I want to piss in your Goddamn
mouth."

I did what he told me.  He began to piss again.  The frothy golden
urine splashed into my mouth and, because I couldn't hold it all,
dribbled down my chin.

TJ yanked on my urine-drenched hair, pulling my face closer to his
pungent, dripping genitals.

"You're wasting my piss, fucker," he told me.  "Pigs are supposed to
swallow all the piss their masters give them.  Close your lips around
my dick.  But don't suck on it.  If you get me hard, I won't be able
to piss."

He must have been carrying a huge bladderful because what he now
commenced to piss down my throat completely filled my belly.  When he
was through, I could feel his still warm urine sloshing inside me.

What an incredible half hour I had been through.