Date: Sat, 23 Apr 2016 12:39:39 +0000 From: namab mass <namabmas@gmail.com> Subject: How I Poo My Pants This story contains mild-moderate solo scat play by an adult male. It isn't fiction. If this sort of thing offends you or it is not legal to view it where you are, please leave now. Always happy to hear from youngish guys who are into the same kind of thing. How I Poo My Pants I'm sitting on the floor, propped against the beanbag, smoking. I'm naked, apart from my T-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. My big cock is rock hard, and I'm stroking it rhythmically through my pants as I lie there, fantasising and every so often squirming a bit from the growing pressure inside me. I haven't been to the toilet for nearly 36 hours, and now I'm desperate for a poo. Soon, very soon, the moment I've been anticipating for hours is about to arrive. I'm going to do it in my pants. I can almost feel it already; the intense relief as I give in to the urge and let my poo surge out; the lumpy warmth as it spreads across my bottom; the gasping rush of sitting in it; and then the long, ecstatic time I'll spend sitting in my pile. I've felt it all before, and soon I'm going to again. My heart is pounding and my cock is pulsing without my even having to touch it. I'm so, so horny! ***** I knew I was gonna do it as soon as I woke up that morning, fantasising about filling my pants and watching a hot young guy I'd noticed in the pub the previous evening doing it. The urge to empty my bowels came on strongly with my morning coffee, and I thought for a few minutes I was going to have to go and waste it in the toilet, but then it faded and I could get on with my day. All day I kept drifting off into kinky fantasies as I did my shopping. I imagined the slim student lad who walked past me in the street sitting on the toilet, grunting and dropping his load; the cute chavvy lad on the street corner desperate for the toilet; the handsome checkout assistant moaning as he filled his pants; the hot guy in the newsagent's shop sitting in his pile, squirming and wanking, and then showing me his pert, messy bottom. With every vision in my mind's eye my dick started to get hard. Back at home the urge to poo returned, slower and more controllable this time, and I got steadily hornier as the pressure in my bowels mounted. I lay back and watched a few videos of other guys doing it, smoking a lot, imagining what I was going to do and how good it was going to feel. I love the sense of anticipation as the moment draws nearer. Presently I went and made my preparations. I cleared the area round the bath of shower gel bottles and the like, took up the bathmats, and put a towel, some plastic bags, disinfectant and so on ready to speed the clean-up afterwards. I taped a plastic bag over my favourite hard chair, the poppers bottle close to hand on the table, and placed the mirror nearby. By now the need to go was constant; a dull heaviness in my poo chute that knocked insistently at the back door more and more often. I farted softly as I lay back, smoking again, and bent to sniff at the smell. It was thick and a bit ripe; the pong of one of my big, solid dumps; and soon it was going to be all over my bottom! I went and stripped, and changed into the tight, white boxer briefs I'd bought just that afternoon. As time went on I started to get desperate, and my cock was rock hard as I squirmed in exquisite discomfort. I was psyching myself up to it now, hardly able to believe what was about to happen and yet forced to realise it from the pressure inside me. I was buzzing with anticipation. I needed to do a poo, I whispered to myself. Another spasm of desperation gripped me briefly, leaving me clenched up tight and grunting. I really, really needed a poo now; I had to take a dump, and I was gonna push it all out in my pants and sit in it like the pervert I am. I'd sit in my pile and wriggle and smoke and squish about until my bottom was brown. And how good was it going to be! I farted softly again, and the smell rose up around me. My poo pushed urgently at my hole once more and my cock twitched and pulsed, and I realised it was time. Trembling all over I crushed out my cigarette and stood up. I bent my legs a little, put my hands on my knees and stuck my bottom out towards the mirror. For a few seconds more I fought the urge, squirming, and then I bowed my head and accepted it. I moaned aloud as the bulk inside me started to move, sliding slowly, ecstatically down my chute. I paused for just a second, whimpering, my hole twitching, on the verge of losing control completely. Then I gave in, and gasped as the turd pushed my hole open and I passed the point of no return. Suddenly it was filling my crack, all hot and firm, crackling and hissing as it slid out. I didn't push; just relaxed and let it pile up, bulge out my pants and spread slowly across my cheeks. The relief, the wonderful sensations on my bottom, and the smell starting to thicken; it was pure pleasure that went on and on! `Oh God!' I gasped as it finally tailed off. I straightened up, breathing hard and stroking myself through my pants, lost in the moment of shocked relief that always comes straight after I've pooed my pants. The weighty, rounded lump nestled against my bum, all warm and slimy and lovely; and I hadn't finished yet! The smell really hit me then, thick and cloying, and it turned me on even more. I sniffed deeply at it, and twisted round to admire my bulge in the mirror. Then I felt my poo beginning to move again, and I bent my knees and resumed my position, and moaned out loud as another fat turd began to push its lumpy way out. I could feel my pants bulging further and further. It spread warm and smooth across my bottom, and then it stopped, held half-inside me by the solid mass in its way. My hole squelched shut, leaving my crack full of sticky hotness and my poo chute aching to empty itself out. I gave a big push to help it and farted wetly into what I'd done. With one more ecstatic heave I whimpered as another smooth turd squelched from my bum and added itself to my pile. It was coming forward now, tickling the area behind my balls. It was firm and hot and deliciously heavy, and I felt so naughty. `Oh ... oh I've pooped,' I breathed. `I've pooed my pants ... I've done such a big poo-poo! Ooh, it smells so nice!' I straightened up again, feeling the pile pressing against my cheeks; wiggled my bottom a bit to make it rub lightly to and fro, and bent over a couple of times to feel it squash all the more firmly against my bottom and behind my balls. The sensation drew gasps from me. I still had more to come but I'd begin pissing if I pushed it out, so with the mess pushing about exquisitely on my behind I went through to the bathroom to finish. I stood with my cock out, squirting piss into the bath (I'd only have missed the toilet) and pushing out the remainder of my poo. There was more than I thought, and every grunting heave tailed off into a little satisfied moan as another smooth turd forced its way out of me and squashed warmly against my skin. When I'd finally finished I admired what I'd done in the bathroom mirror. My load was huge; a great rounded bulge below my bottom, lumpy in places, with a few spots of moisture just starting to show through. It was tickling the back of my balls a little and pressing deliciously against my skin. I'd pooed my pants, I told myself. I'd taken a big smelly dump in my pants, and it felt wonderful! My pants weren't in danger of leaking, so I pulled them up a little tighter and took myself off for a walk around the house, wriggling my bum to feel the hot bulky poo I'd done pushing about, the thick vapour trail following me everywhere. Upstairs I wriggled my bum some more and bent over a couple of times, and gasped as the warm mass pressed against me more firmly, and then I knelt down in front of the big beanbag. I bent forward over it, and began to hump slowly. My poo pushed to and fro, nudging my balls and caressing my bottom and the sensitive bit in between, and I moaned louder and louder. I paused and sniffed at the glorious smell, then began to hump harder, until I was crying out aloud in my pleasure Gasping, whimpering, close to cumming, I forced myself to stop, stand up and head back downstairs. I knew what I was going to do – what I had to do – when I got there, and I was trembling in anticipation. I stopped on the way to admire my load in the bedroom mirror, with my tight boxer briefs showing off its shape to perfection. I bent and squatted again to watch it move and feel my turds press hot and lumpy against the back of my balls. The sight and the sensation tipped me over the edge, and I straightened up whimpering, and hastened downstairs. I lit another cigarette and stood smoking for a minute or two, wriggling my bum and walking happily up and down. I contemplated the chair with the plastic bag across it, psyching myself up again to what I was about to do, and reached for the poppers. As my head rushed and I stood and wriggled the sensation in my pants nearly had me cumming again. I could feel every lump and contour of what I'd done, and it felt utterly awesome. I took another sniff and drew closer to the chair, willing myself on, and then turned around and half-sat until I was nearly touching the seat, and my hot poo was pressed tight against me. I teased myself, whimpering as I slid gently to and fro, pushing the mess lightly up against my balls, and further up towards my waistband at the back. I paused for one amazed second to compose myself, and then lowered myself into my brown pile. `Oh fucking hell! Oh fuck ... oh my god!' My poo squashed everywhere. It surged all across my bottom and up around my balls, and I cried out aloud. For a few seconds I lost control of myself completely, and I wriggled and bounced and whimpered in my ecstasy. Again I came close to cumming, and I had to stop and roll a cigarette and calm myself down for a bit. Another sniff from the bottle had me leaning back in my chair, sitting in my excrement in contented pleasure. I felt so deliciously naughty. I sat there for a space, stroking myself and sniffing. Then I began to move again, sliding gently side to side and then back and forward, rubbing my balls in it and stroking my hard cock through my pants. Again I got close to cumming, stopped, took another sniff of poppers and relaxed. I leaned back in the chair, feeling the mess spread yet further across my bum, and as I lifted my legs the mass between my thighs and around my balls slid slimily back like a brown glacier, drawing yet more gasps from me, and then a strangulated yelp as I rocked forward again and the slimy warmth enveloped my balls. I took another huff of poppers, pulled out the front of my pants and bent forward. I could see the thick, lumpy brown clod under my balls. The smell came up at me even more strongly, and I sniffed deeply to drink it in. `Mmm! Oh you stink!' I fucking love the smell of my shit, and it drove me wild now. I let my pants spring back into place and began to rock and bounce again, whimpering ever more loudly as the mass caressed my balls. Every so often a slimy puff of gas bubbled up through it, and the sensation drew cries from me all over again. I was just in heaven, rocking and squishing and wanking. Time after time I rocked and wriggled until I was moaning aloud and my cock was dribbling pre-cum everywhere, and then stepped back from the brink and relaxed again, all warm and buzzing as I sat back, loving the hot sticky sensations on my bottom. As I sat and smoked I began to fantasise; dirty, dark fantasies about having someone with me in that moment, a really hot guy urging me on to get messier still. Maybe he needed a shit and he was promising to drag me to the bathroom, lie me down and do it on my face, or perhaps he'd push my face in what I'd done, even make me eat it. I took another sniff of poppers and began to wriggle again, until I was gasping again as my shit squashed around my bottom and balls and thighs. `Oh God ... it feels so nice ... oh I'm such a mess.' `You are,' replied my imaginary companion. `But that's nothing to what you're gonna be in a minute. You fucking pervert, your shit stinks!' I lay back again, moaning. I was sitting in my shit! My arse was plastered with my hot filthy shit, and I stank! On impulse I jumped up and headed through to the bathroom, dragging the chair with me. I was going to pull my pants down at once, but I couldn't resist it. I had to sit in it one more time and revel in my messy bottom and the slimy tickle underneath. I rocked and wriggled until I was edging yet again before I stood up and hauled my pants down to my knees. I dribbled pre-cum all over the floor as my cock bounced free. I twisted round to look in the mirror behind me and admire my brown bottom. My shit had squished nearly up to my waistband at the back, out across both buttocks and smeared down my thighs. Looking down, there was still a fat clod of it in my pants. I stared at it, wide-eyed, until the urge overwhelmed me and I dropped my pants to the floor and stepped out of them. I picked the pants up and put them on the seat I'd just sat on, folding them back so the shit was on top. There was still a great pile, all smooth and compressed where I'd sat in it. I knelt before it, took a big sniff of poppers, and leaned in until my nose almost touched my shit. My cock was in my hand, dribbling pre-cum again. `Mmm!' It was still hot, and close up like this the stink was overpowering. I took yet more poppers, and leaned in again, drinking in the reek and the filthiness. Without realising what I was doing I began to wank harder. `Get your face in it,' the voice in my head said. `Lick it. Go on you pervert, do it. Fucking eat your own shit!' `Oh God,' I moaned. I was almost beyond control now, almost at the point where the little voice of sanity in the back of my mind died away and I crossed the line I never yet had and tasted my own shit. I was worshipping it; the smell, the warmth, the filthiness of what I'd done. I took one final hit of poppers, sniffed my glorious shit again and opened my mouth over it. I was moaning, lost, almost crying in pleasure and disgust at what I was about to do. Now ... I began to put my tongue out, slowly, closer and closer to my shit. I was going to taste my shit. I could feel its warmth on my tongue. I was going to ... nearly there now ... and then I came. My vision went blurry and I cried out aloud as I shot everywhere. `Oh fuck...' Gradually the spasms faded and I came back to something like reality, scarcely able to believe what I'd so nearly done. I was a mess, I realised, and now that I'd cum it wasn't sexy any more. But I'm good at cleaning up, after plenty of practice. I bagged up the ruined pants and cleaned myself as best I could with toilet paper before getting in the shower. One long, long shower with plenty of disinfectant and anti-bacterial soap had me clean, and then I turned to the scene of the crime. Finally, when the evidence was in the dustbin outside and the only trace of what had happened was the lingering smell of shit and disinfectant, I treated myself to another long shower. And then, finally, I could relax and smile over what I'd just done. Enjoyed this? Feedback and ideas are very welcome: namabmas@gmail.com Please consider donating to Nifty so we can continue to enjoy this excellent resource.