Date: Tue, 09 Jun 1998 21:48:35 PDT
From: "oranges, lemons and cherries" <loop_fruit@hotmail.com>
Subject: Gaston's Toilet

Gaston's Toilet  by loop_fruit

He left his number in the bathroom - on the wall.

The first time I saw it, I was 17.  His message was simple:  "Top Guy 
into bizarre sex".  I didn't know what he might mean by 'bizarre', but I 
knew that I was definitely a bottom - even though I had not yet had sex 
with anyone.  And I certainly knew that my fantasies would be considered 
'bizarre'.  I took down his number, and the first time I called, I hung 
up when I heard his voice.  He had an accent - I thought it might be 
French.  I wondered how old he was.  He'd sounded quite young - I 
guessed he might be in his early twenties.

A different bathroom, a different message:  "I want you to be my 
toilet".  The same number as I'd copied down a week ago was next to the 
message.  My heart beat quickly.  In my fantasies, I was often forced to 
drink a man's piss while kneeling in front of him.  Once finished 
emptying his bladder, the man would often command me to lie on my back.  
I'd see his ass slowly lower over my face.  I knew what was coming 
next...

I decided to call him.  What was there to lose?  At worst, I might get 
uncomfortable and hang up on him.  Even so, my hand was shaking as I 
made the call, and I hoped I would be able to hide the nervousness in my 
voice.  

"Hello?", I heard him say with his strong accent.  
"Hello", I said hoarsely, "I saw your ads". 
"My ads?", he said, confusion in his voice.
"Yes.  The ones in the bathrooms".
"Oh yes", he said, I could almost hear the sound of a smile in his 
voice.  "You want to be my slave, then".  
I felt the blood shoot into my cock as I responded, "Yes, that's right".
I found out he was 21, and his name was Gaston.  We discussed what he 
was looking for in a slave.  His voice was so sexual, that every time he 
said the word 'slave', or 'toilet', or 'piss', my cock would feel a jolt 
of pleasure.

It was the first of many calls.  He wasn't interested in phone sex - he 
wanted to meet me.  But I was too nervous for that, and at times, when 
I'd catch him in a horny mood, he'd give in and jerk with me over the 
phone.  I'd share with him my fantasies of wanting to kneel in front of 
him while he sat on the toilet.  How I wanted to beg him for his cock as 
he looked down at me and laughed.  How I longed to hear him command me 
to take his cock into my mouth, forcing me to drink down his hot piss as 
I heard him grunt and fart, finally hearing the sound of a huge turd 
falling from his asshole and splashing into the toilet.  The putrid 
smell would overwhelm me with ecstasy and disgust as I continued to suck 
his now fully erect cock.  Then he'd stand up and turn his ass toward 
me.  "Time to wipe it", he'd say, while spreading his cheeks with his 
hands and pushing the dirty hole towards my mouth...

He'd always cry out as his cum began to spurt - I tried to imagine what 
he looked like as I held the receiver to my ear and let my own cum shoot 
all over the floor.  I wanted to be his slave, and yet I was so fearful 
- I'd never had sex before, not even anything 'vanilla'.  I just 
couldn't bring myself to meet with him, and finally, he told me to stop 
calling him if I wasn't interested in anything beyond phone sex.

When I was 18, I went away to college.  I started meeting different gay 
men on campus or at bars, and casual sex became a regular release for 
me.  I didn't get into anything kinky - just oral and anal sex.  There 
was nothing I loved more than rimming a man as he sat on my face, and 
sometimes, as I looked up and saw a hairy asshole lowering toward my 
lips, I would imagine it was Gaston, and dream about what was coming 
next.  But the men I was meeting never mentioned a desire to delve into 
dominance and submission or raunch or anything else 'alternative', and I 
was never brave enough to speak of my own dark desires, so my kinky side 
remained closeted.

One summer break, when I was home visiting my family, I decided to go 
for a bike ride through a park I hadn't visited for a long time.  I was 
22 at the time, and visiting with my parents had become more of a chore 
than anything else.  I had told them I was gay several months before, 
and they had been less than approving.  Since then, conversation with 
them was often strained, and I tried to keep my visits short.  Riding my 
bike became a way of escaping from home, while keeping me in good shape.  
I was proud of my body, and I tried hard to take good care of it.

Anyway, as I rode through the park, I felt the call of nature, and I 
wheeled my bike toward the bathroom at the north end.  I knew that it 
was a bathroom where men 'cruised' each other - it was one of the 
bathrooms where I had read the 'ads' written by Gaston.  

I sat down on the toilet and began looking over the writing on the wall.  
There was a message:  "I want you to be my toilet".  The number next to 
it was different than the one I had called all those years ago.  Could 
it be Gaston?  I quickly copied it down.  Did I have the courage to meet 
him now?  I wiped my ass and hurried out of the bathroom to the pay 
phone outside.  There was already somebody on it.  Damn! 

The man at the phone glanced me up and down.  It was obvious he was here 
to cruise.  And he was definitely easy to look at.  He was about 6 feet 
tall, and weighed maybe 185 pounds.  He had dark wavy hair and a 
moustache and goatee, and his eyes were a dark brown.  He was wearing 
tight Levi's and a denim shirt.  I guessed his age to be around 25.  He 
kept staring at me, but the short message I had read on the bathroom 
wall and the phone number I now held in my hand were keeping my focused 
on one thing - calling Gaston - and I just wished the guy at the phone 
would hurry up with his call.  I decided to move closer to the phone, to 
make it clear that I was waiting for him to finish his call.  

And then I heard the accent.  The man at the phone had a voice so 
similar to the one I had heard on the phone all of those years ago.  
Could it be Gaston?  My erection grew in my pants, and the man on the 
phone looked back and forth from my bulging jeans to my eyes.  He 
finished up his call and walked into the bathroom, looking back over his 
shoulder as he went through the door.  My heart was beating hard in my 
chest.  What if it wasn't Gaston?  Would I make an idiot of myself?  

I followed inside as if I was in a trance.  There were three toilet 
stalls and he was in the middle one - I chose the one to the left.  I 
pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet seat.  I could see that he'd 
pulled his jeans down around his ankles.  I bent over, trying to see if 
what more I might be able to see - his white briefs were stretched out 
between his ankles, and I could see a beautiful brown skid mark in the 
center of the shorts.  My cock was fully erect and my heart was beating 
in my throat.  I didn't know for sure if it was Gaston in the stall next 
to me, but whoever it was appeared to have a raunchy ass, and I was 
determined that I wanted to lick it clean.

I heard a fart rip from the ass of the man in the next stall, echoing 
throughout the dirty bathroom we were in.  I almost had an orgasm on the 
spot, and tried to focus on remaining in control.  I saw his hand come 
under the wall between us holding a notepad and a pen.  It had nothing 
written on it, so I scrawled a short note:  "What are you into?", and 
passed it back under the wall.  He passed it back to me with a note 
saying, "I like it kind of dirty".  My heart was pounding more as I 
wrote him back:  "Are you top or bottom?".  The message came back:  
"Top".  It had to be Gaston.  I decided to take a huge risk - what was 
the worst that could happen?  If I didn't like the guy, I could always 
run from the bathroom and ride my bike like hell to get away.  My next 
note read:  "I want to be your toilet".  I passed the note back under 
the wall.  There was a moment of silence that felt a year long before I 
heard him stand up and walk out of his stall.  He was standing outside 
of my stall now, and I reached up and unlocked it.  He stepped inside 
and locked it behind him.

"You should be on your knees", he said, and I knew then beyond a doubt 
that it was Gaston, both from his accent, and his tone.  I fell on my 
knees before him and he wiped his uncut cock across my face.  "Smell 
it!", he ordered, and I inhaled the stench of his cock.  It smelled like 
he hadn't bathed for days.  He moved around behind me and sat on the 
toilet - I turned around and faced him, on my knees before him.  He held 
his cock out toward my face.  "Lick under the skin", he said with a 
sneer.  I was intoxicated by his presence and I began to lap at his dick 
like a dog.  The smell and taste of his filthy foreskin made me gag and 
he laughed as I continued to lick it clean anyway.  He grabbed my hair 
and pulled my head forward, forcing his cock into my mouth.  He farted 
another huge, loud fart as I sucked him, and the stench was more 
disgusting than any fantasy had allowed me to imagine.  As I smelled it 
and sucked on his huge cock, I began to wonder how far he'd take me - if 
his farts smell that horrible, what if he makes me lick his shit?  

He pulled his cock from my mouth and commanded me to bow in front of him 
and take off his boots.  His socks were filthy and smelled worse than a 
locker room full of jocks.  He stuffed his foot, sock and all, into my 
mouth and I gagged and choked as he said "Suck it, bitch".  As I sucked 
the disgusting sock, he pushed his other foot under my nose and rubbed 
it over my face.  He laughed and called me a faggot, a sick twisted 
queer, a piece of shit, his fucking perverted slave.  Then he grabbed my 
hair and pulled my face up toward his cock again.  It was soft as he 
pushed it past my lips, and I felt the splash of hot piss hit the back 
of my throat.  Although I had fantasized about it many times, I had 
never tasted piss before, and the strong bitter taste made me gag.  I 
was afraid I'd throw up, but even more afraid of what might happen if I 
did - would he make me lick it off the floor?  I focused on swallowing 
down the hot, putrid urine and fought to breath normally.  It seemed 
like forever that I knelt there, drinking his piss before I could feel 
the flow decrease, and he pulled out, spraying the last bit into my 
face.  Then he looked down at me with hatred in his eyes, and spit in my 
face.  He did it again, and again, saying "Eat it, bitch", and I opened 
my mouth, catching his spittle on my tongue.  He spit on the floor, and 
pushed my head down to his feet.  "Lick it up!", he commanded, and I 
licked his spit off of the disgusting floor.  He pushed my head down 
hard and wiped the floor with my face, while grunting and laughing.  
Then he grabbed my hair again and pulled my face up toward his crotch.  
He stuck his hand between his legs and down to his ass hole, then pulled 
it out again, his index finger pointing toward my face - it was brown.  
"What's that on my finger, bitch?", he asked in a sinister voice.  "Your 
shit, sir.", I responded.  He took his finger and stuck it up my nose.  
In my fantasies, it was always kind of disgusting to smell another man's 
shit.  But never had I imagined how truly sickening it smelled, and I 
once again fought from retching.  I felt completely base and started 
thinking about how the hell I could escape before we went any farther.  
He stuck his finger up his ass again, this time pointing it toward my 
mouth.  "Taste it!", he commanded.  I felt completely under his control.  
I wanted to run away, but I couldn't.  I opened my mouth, and wrapped my 
lips around his outstretched finger.  I could feel the grittiness of his 
shit on my tongue as I licked it clean.  I was disgusted and degraded, 
and he could tell.  He laughed as a huge fart blew from his ass.  My 
eyes begged him to stop there.  "What do you want, fucker?",  he asked 
me, again with the sinister look.  "I don't think I can do this.", I 
said quietly.  "Do what?", he demanded.  I looked down.  "Look at me!", 
he screamed, and I looked back up into his hate-filled eyes.  "I don't 
think I can eat it", I said.  "Say it, faggot!  What don't you think you 
can eat?".  "Your shit, sir.  I don't think I can eat your shit".  He 
laughed again.  He was enjoying torturing me.  He loved to see the look 
of disgust on my face.  He relished humiliating and degrading me.  "So 
you want me to go easy on you?", he asked.  "Please sir", I responded.  
"You've never eaten a man's shit before, have you?", he inquired.  "No 
sir, I've never done any of this stuff - never drank piss, never licked 
a filthy cock, I've never sucked a man's feet or had my face rubbed on 
the floor of a filthy bathroom like this.  It's all new to me, sir, and 
I don't think I can do any more". 

He looked down at me, contemplating for a moment.  I felt at his mercy.  
I don't know why.  He wasn't much bigger than me.  I'm in good shape, so 
I could probably hold my own against him in a fight.  And I could always 
run - I'm fast.  So why did I remain on my knees at his feet?  "Please 
sir", I said again.  

A smile spread across his face.  "No fucking way, faggot", he said, "lie 
down on your back".  I looked at him once again, my eyes pleading for 
mercy, but I could tell it was no use.  He had decided to make me eat 
his shit, and begging him for hours would not change his mind.  My mind 
felt like I was in a trance as I shifted my legs to the side, laying on 
my back on the filthy floor, looking up at his evil face glaring down at 
me from where he sat on the toilet.  Then he shifted, pulled one leg out 
of his pants, and then put his feet on either side of my chest, facing 
my feet.  And i saw his ass lower towards my face, as I had imagined it 
many times before.  He moved slowly, and I could smell his ass when it 
was still inches from my face.  He stopped once his asshole was a couple 
of inches above me, and for a small second, I felt like maybe he would 
change his mind.  Maybe he'd be merciful.  Then he grunted, and the most 
rank, disgusting fart spewed out of his ass, spraying my face with 
wetness.  He pressed his asshole over my mouth, and I struggled to 
breathe the stench of his fart.  "Open your faggot mouth", he commanded, 
and I obeyed.  I could feel his muscles tighten as he grunted over my 
mouth.  It felt totally surreal as I fully realized that I was about to 
become Gaston's human toilet.  I could feel the lips of his asshole part 
as a hard log made its way through my lips.  This man was shitting in my 
mouth!  I sucked it in, completely disgusted and humiliated, knowing 
that I could never be the same again.  The vile taste pushed farther 
into my throat, and I realized that I would choke on it if I didn't bit 
it off.  My stomach churned as I bit through the filthy log of shit, 
chewing it up as still more was pushed into my mouth from his ass.  
Suddenly, Gaston started pressing his ass against my face, wiping it 
back and forth over my lips and nose.  "I'm wiping my ass on your face, 
you filthy, disgusting toilet", he sneered.  "You're a completely filthy 
faggot, shit eating worthless slave, vile, sick excuse for a human, 
you're my toilet, do you hear me, my fucking toilet!", he shouted 
through laughter as he smeared his shit all over my face.  Then he rose 
up, looked down at me, spit in my face, laughed once more, and pulled up 
his pants, walking out of the bathroom, back into the park.  

I was left there full of his shit, completely humiliated, and more 
disgusted with myself than I had ever been.  He was right - I was his 
human toilet.  
  
written by loop_fruit