Dirty little freaks and FTT (scat)

They call it FTT, or brown showers, or toilet training. Sometimes, it is referred to as scat but always, it is a different experience because of the details of how every person who is interested in it wants their poop scene to go.

I have only done this a couple times in my life. My first experience was with a man from a few states away who had such a baby face he looked like a cherub. They always look like cherubs with clean cut, baby faces and look like altar boys to me.

Or it could be my imagination is expecting someone that looks like Dirty Psycho Santa from the tv series Happy! is the kind of person who would want to do this. (By the way, if you haven’t seen this show, I recommend it. This character in the poster is not psycho santa but the main character who is comparably filthy and vulgar. LOL)

He answered the door and true to form, he looked like one of Boticelli’s angels with a sweet, gentle personality to match. How am I supposed to take a shit on someone who is inspiring me to feed him cookies and give him delighted hugs because he clearly isn’t the monster of my worst imaginings?

How do you ask someone if they want you to shit on their chest, in their mouth or over their genitals so they can masturbate with it without making things even more awkward and weird? Since this is a one time event for the day and it is time sensitive, these details help make things work the way the recipient is hoping for. I agreed to be here. They should get what they are asking for without more stress for either one of us. I asked and he looked more embarrassed than I felt asking the questions. It seems no one ever asked him such pointed questions before and it caught him off guard. I was as surprised as he was and probably for the same reasons.

We prepared a space on the floor. He laid down an old blanket for absorbency and I insisted on my previous standby of plastic sheeting for easier clean-up. I like being able to gather everything together in one sweeping pull of plastic wrap and throw it away. We put the blanket under the plastic sheeting to make it more comfortable for him. Above that, the portable throne for me to sit on that is indispensable because it helps to keep my feet and high heels clean and out of contact with any mess, reducing my stress and worry. Relaxation is key to making this work because along with shy bowels, anxiousness or worrying about a mess will prevent anything from moving along smoothly. This include bladders for those times that a golden shower is desired. We both want this to be a pleasurable, natural experience and not a performance-driven, uncomfortable, anxiety hour.

He covered himself in lotion while I watched. “The smell lingers and this makes a barrier to prevent that. I read about it online,” he explained. He smelled like lavender in sun-drenched fields of summer and for a moment, I forgot about what we were about to do. Once everything was set up, we stood face to face admiring each other.

He was lovely and I was delighted to be in the company of someone I could feel safe with and who had such a sophisticated palate for kinky play instead of the usual creepy kink involving daddy and little girl roleplay or choking the air out of someone, among other things, as a form of erection inspiration. Those kinks may be fine for other folks but for me, those are red flags that scream psychotherapy and PFA orders. No fucking thank you.

We began by kissing and touching each other in lovely, sensual ways. He gently fondles and sucks my breasts while I gently squeeze his firmly swelling erection. Slowly and gently we entered our play in ways that are so normal they would seem contradictory to the activity we were about to embark on.

After all, isn’t defecating on someone one of the most debasing acts that one person can do to another? It would seem that way on superficial inspection but consider that sex is supposed to be an expression of joy between two people. When sex is used as rape, it becomes an act of violence and degradation that is both soul and joy destroying. The superficial act may be the same but the outcomes and impact are completely different ends of the spectrum.

Intention, and perception, of the act we engage in with another person defines the experience, not the act itself. And this is why enthusiastic consent matters so much and makes such a difference in the final outcome.

~Xo, Samois

His kisses are breathy, soft and light like a butterfly landing on different places of my shoulder, back, and chest. It is a delicious feeling to be treated so delicately and with such genuine affection. I return his attention with warm, sensual strokes and affectionate kisses and smiles. In this moment, we are friends who share a secret pleasure that no one else would understand. Our kinship in this secret is a moment we are celebrating with each other.

An island doesn’t need to explain to the water around it why it is anomalously there and the water doesn’t need to explain why it rises up to meet the island or retreats back in waves. They co-exist together in their moment of meeting in full support of each other without any need for explanation. When you don’t have to explain yourself to another person, it can be everything.

I want his mouth lower. I want to feel his lips and tongue between my legs. We are standing against a couch and I turn my back toward him, spread my legs and bend over. He responds by moving down to position himself to give his delicious attentions to my pussy lips and clitoris. His delicate and slow explorations are excruciatingly pleasurable and I am nearly beside myself. I stop him so I can grab my tiny vibrator and return to my position.

He is standing now, stroking his cock and waiting for me. I reach behind me and pull his cock toward my asshole. “Just jerk off right there. Don’t put it in. Don’t come. I just want to feel you jerk off against it”, I tell him and he obliges. He begins strong and enthusiastic pumping against my asshole while I press my vibrator against my clit and masturbate myself. After his wonderful tongue lashing, this combined with the sensation of his restrained desire masturbating against me sends me to a near ruinous orgasm within minutes. My knees almost buckle under me causing me to stop and grab the back of the couch so I don’t collapse.

I laugh at how light headed I am as I turn around to look at him. He is grinning and asks if he can stick it in my asshole if he can eat it all. I know he is being optimistic about what he can do because he is so aroused. In good humor, I agree to let him if he can accomplish his goal.

He positions himself under the throne. Now it is his turn and as he lays there stroking a very hard cock, I seat myself and hope that I will not have a shy bowel or missed my window of opportunity to accomplish my own goals. The irony of pressure to perform and performance anxiety that goes with the theories of Freud about toilet training is not lost on me in these moments. I can’t focus on it though because it will only make it harder to relax enough to perform.

Oh, the irony.

When the train leaves the station, it is in a smooth, graceful motion. I am so relieved that I can’t help but moaning and offering scurrilous encouragement while I watch him masturbate himself furiously during the process. Thick, white ropes of ejaculate shoot out of the cock in his hand as he is telling me that he can’t take anymore and to stop. He demands this as if anyone could stop a train abruptly once it has been set into motion. I am not sure if I should laugh at him in this moment, or keep insisting that he lay still and continue taking it. And he thought he could consume any of it, much less all of it only a few moments ago. Lucky for him, it was a solid, firmly formed log that could be picked up with two fingers like a cigar and disposed of instead of a soft or wet mess that would have surely not spared his mouth or nostrils during his protestations.

Everything that does not stay in the plastic sheeting goes into the toilet. He follows by going into the shower and I was so surprised by his sudden protests that he did interrupt my performance. I take a seat on the toilet next to the shower for a few more moments to empty out completely so that I can be comfortable too. We have a little more conversation and then say our goodbyes. It has been a positive experience for both of us and I think we are both relieved by that, no pun intended.

The first few times I had done this, it was always a surreal experience and I was never sure what to think of myself, them or why anyone would want to engage in these types of activities. After my own personal adventures around the BDSM corners of the Universe, it has become clear what baseline dynamics are woven through many of the kink expressions we see. Just like cookies, they all have the same basic ingredients but with slight variations here and there, you still end up with dramatically different results in appearance, taste and texture.

But this is different. It isn’t about “humiliation” as expressed in BDSM. The people I have had the privilege of playing with are not really looking to be debased or degraded, nor do they want to be abused, insulted or hurt. This is its own island of sensory experience and psychological sorcery that doesn’t fit into a BDSM box of kink or fetish. I don’t have words to explain a lot of this but there is an intimacy that is happening here that feels like the driving force for the desire for this kind of play. In the world of BDSM, kink and fetish, this is its own island of mysteries that has nothing to do with other forms of play. The inhabitants of this island are equally enigmatic. Why the ones I meet all look like innocent, baby faced choir boys will also always remain a mystery to me.

If you would like to have a fantasy chat with me about this, you can call me at www.niteflirt.com/governesse_samois or you can request custom audio stories narrated by me. More information about my phone sex and custom audio recordings can be found here Custom audio and phone sex with Samois

If you are interested in reading a quick overview of Freud’s works, you can go to this link. It is an easy and relatively expansive read. Sigmund Freud (ship.edu)