Mark Twain said, “I have found out that there ain't no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.” Although Max and Asher had been friends for years and were now business partners, Max wondered how well they would get along during a two-week vacation abroad.

Any trepidation Max felt faded almost immediately. From the start, he and Asher clicked. Max was more buttoned-down, while Asher was lighthearted and easygoing, but their differences complemented each other well. Before long, Max found himself unconsciously adopting some of Asher’s more positive traits.

For first-time travelers, practical questions quickly come into focus.

Does the other person pick up after himself?

Does he make his bed?

Who takes responsibility for ordering the daily coffee?

How well do their personal hygiene habits align?

Who is better at coordinating with the many sightseeing agencies?

Max had no reason to worry. Asher, Executive Chef, proved to be every bit as detail oriented as Max, General Manager.

The day promised to be a highlight of the trip. Asher had booked a snorkeling excursion to Caño Island Biological Reserve, widely regarded as one of Costa Rica’s premier snorkeling destinations. About 1½ hours by boat from Uvita, the island is ringed by five platforms of pristine coral reef, with visibility that often reaches 50 to 80 feet.

They were up early, eager to get the day started.

“Are all your ducks in a row, Ash?”

“You know it, Max. I don’t do anything half-ass.

“Let’s get breakfast. I asked the hosts to make it early, so we can get to the boat on time.”

“Lead on, Ash.”

“Is that a sneaky way of saying you want to see my firm ass cheeks bouncing around in these shorts?” Asher asked, laughing.

“You’re on to me,” Max answered.

Breakfast turned out to be a centerpiece of the trip. This morning, it was Tamal Asado: A dense, sweet cornmeal cake baked with cheese, sour cream, and spices, served with empanadas, stuffed pastries filled with seasoned ground beef, sourced from a local, family-run bakery.

Asher asked the hosts for a container for the leftover empanadas. They would come in handy on the 90-minute boat ride.

The morning ritual was next.

As they walked to the restroom, Max decided to open a line of questioning he’d been mulling for days.

           “I have a freaky side, too, if you’re up for some exploration.”

“Hey Ash. The other day you mentioned having a freaky side. You mind telling me about that, if you’re OK with it?”

“Yeah, no problem, Max. Let’s talk in a minute when we’re on the toilets. Where am I today?”

“You’re in back, facing me.”

They entered the room, taking their places.

“Ash, take off your shorts and underwear. I’ll do the same.”

“OK, Max. You’re the boss in here.”

Asher farted loudly as soon as he sat down. “I was holding that in for you, Max. I know you like my farts. I’ll poop in a minute.”

“I do like hearing farts. It’s cool that you’re going along with my fetish. I don’t know if you’re into it, or humoring me, but I appreciate the effort.”

“I’m liking this new side of you, Max. You’re chill. It is kinda hot to be intimate with you. Besides, your butt is no slouch. It’s almost as hot as mine.” They both laughed.

“Where my ass is a bubble, yours is bigger overall. I won’t lie and say I don’t look at other guys’ asses. Your impressive muscle butt is up there. Them cheeks be big and heavy, dude.

“I did sneak a peek that first morning when you stood up to wipe. You got a hairy crack, man.”

“Thanks, Ash, I think.

“I got rid of my farts on the walk up here. I’m ready to shit.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Asher answered.

Max adjusted his butt as Asher watched. Max spent more time in the gym, his hard body being the proof. He fueled it constantly to maintain his physique.

After a popcorn fart, he unloaded. A strong stream of shit flowed from his hole, crackling and splashing into the bowl. Asher was silent.

“I’m ready to go now, Max. I didn’t want to step on your performance. It sounded damned intense.”

“Go ahead, Ash. My focus is on you.

“I am glad we’re the only guests here. It is the slow season.”

Asher pushed. He felt heavy. It took some effort to expand his asshole. After exertion, a large mass of poop hit the bowl with such force that it caused a mini-tsunami, splashing his butt.

“Round two on the way, Asher said.” Max stayed quiet.

Seconds later, Asher ejected a chunky piece of shit. It was loud.

Max broke his silence. “I think that’s your best one yet, Ash. As long as we’re sharing, I have to admit you woke up by big dick.” He placed his right index finger on his sticky dick slit. “Yup, there’s precum.”

Max, no longer bashful about showing his penis, was manspreading. His package was on display when Asher looked in his direction. They were little more than three feet apart.

Asher replied, “I see that, Max. I can only imagine what that thing looks like fully erect.”

Max let the comment slide, for now.

Max added, “Please don’t wipe or flush yet. I like talking to you while we’re pooping. Maybe this is a good time to broach the subject we talked about.”

Asher answered, “I am comfortable playing along with your "thing." Here we are, having casual conversation, shit floating below our dirty assholes. It’s relaxing. This part is personal, but I do like to please the other person, make them feel good.

“I have put some thought into the ‘freaky’ comment. Here’s my plan. Tell me what you think.”

“Go on,” Max replied.

“There’s no reason to shower now, because in a few hours we’ll be snorkeling in the Pacific. We can shower when we get back. I’ll tell you then. I hope you’ll indulge me, Max.”

“It can’t be more niche than poop and pooping. You got me excited now, Ash. I’m looking forward to the big reveal.”

Max asked, “How are we on time, Ash?”

“We’re good, but we better get to wiping. I want to make it to the boat with time to spare.”

Asher delayed wiping so he could watch Max’s stand-up routine. He thought it odd but surprisingly erotic. Asher knew men wiped in different ways. Some stood to wipe, as Max did. Others wiped in front, between the legs. Most wiped in back, the way he did.

Asher traveled abroad several times to hone his culinary skills. He completed a chef apprenticeship in Paris, known as apprentissage or alternance. In Europe, he discovered the bidet—a fixture that changed his life. During his year in France, every home he visited had a toilet and bidet. Upon returning to America, one of his first purchases was a bidet attachment for his toilet. He splurged for an electric version that dispensed warm water up the bum. There were advantages to using a bidet. No matter how messy he was down there, the warm water cleansed his hole quickly and thoroughly. A dab with a few squares of toilet paper finished the job.

No pulling five or six lengths of toilet paper. No chafing. His hole was pampered, then healed. A roll of toilet paper now lasted weeks, not days. He saved money! He hated using public restrooms. Once, when forced to do so, he wiped so much that the cheap, rough paper actually injured his asshole. A bidet was a necessity, not a luxury. He installed add-on bidets in all four bathrooms of his Austin home. There was one in his office at the restaurant.

Max stood up, facing Asher. “You want to see my poop? Come over and take a look.” Max was pushing it.

Asher fluffed his dick, then stood beside Max as they judged each bowl.

“I think that second wave put you over the top, Ash. It’s a close call.”

“You’re the expert. I’m learning the ropes from the big dog,” Asher said.

Max started wiping, running the toilet paper up his messy crack as he stood next to Asher.

“I’m digging your hairy ass crack Max, and so are you,” Asher joked.

“I’m finished. You ready to wipe, Ash? Can I stand close to you, to get a good look?”

“Sure, Max. I’m guessing you want to see the used toilet paper.”

“You read my mind.”

Asher kept his eyes and ears open in case anyone approached. He didn’t want to get caught showing dirty toilet paper to another man.

“Hey Max, take this toilet paper to the sink and wet it for me, will you please?”

Asher did his homework. He booked a top-rated snorkeling operator. Two snorkeling sessions were included, with a break between sessions. Lunch was served before the return boat ride. Asher planned to tip the guide ₡10,000, around $20. The excursion lasted eight hours.

They had a great time. Everyone involved—from the staff in the Uvita office to the bus driver and guide—was professional, attentive, and caring. It was the highlight of their trip so far, well worth the price.

On the boat ride back from Caño Island to Uvita, Asher suggested making the evening part of the adventure.

“Since we’re almost there, how about dinner in Uvita?” he asked. “I found a place that looks promising—Fernando’s Restaurant. I’m in the mood to unwind, enjoy a good meal, and have cocktails. What do you think?”

“I’m in,” Max said. “I’m pretty worn out after all that swimming, but it was the experience of a lifetime.”

The food and service were good, but oh, those drinks.

Guaro Sour

The Guaro Sour is a classic Costa Rican cocktail made with guaro, a clear, slightly sweet spirit distilled from sugar cane. It is shaken with fresh lime juice and simple syrup, then topped with club soda and served over ice.

Coco Loco

Coco Loco is another local favorite, served in a fresh green coconut opened with a machete. Rich and deceptively strong, it combines coconut water, coconut cream, guaro, white rum, and sometimes a splash of tequila, finished with lime to balance the sweetness.

After two hours, “a few cocktails” had clearly become much more than that. Asher was relieved that Max was a happy drunk; he had never seen him so lively.

Asher felt the drinks too, but it was time to leave.

“Let’s settle the bill and head back. I’d like to get to the cabin before dark. I’m hot and sweaty, and a warm shower and a comfortable bed sound perfect.”

Max was quiet during the taxi ride. He was plastered. For Asher, who still had his wits about him, it was a quandary. He was protective of Max, but he knew his guard was down. He was vulnerable, perhaps manipulable. Thus, the dilemma. Would the hijinks he planned be seen as taking advantage of Max? He thought not.

They washed each other’s assholes the first time they showered together. That’s mutual trust.

“Let’s get a shower now, Max, before we settle down. You OK?”

“Yeah, Ash. I’m fine. It’s been a while since I drank that much. Coco Locos are lethal.”

They gathered their things and made their way toward the restroom. The rain had passed, leaving the air cool and clean. A soft breeze moved through the trees. Evening was beginning to settle over the compound, the last light of day turning everything warm and gold.

As they stripped, Max said, “I need to piss.”

“Don’t go just yet. That’s part of the ‘reveal.’”

Max blinked in surprise.

Facing each other under the warm water, Asher said, “Max, aim that big dick of yours at my stomach and start pissing. Don’t be shy.”

Max’s reaction was surprisingly positive. “I’ve learned a lot about you on this trip.”

He pointed his penis at Asher’s navel, releasing a strong stream of urine. Asher’s eyes were closed. He was excited.

“What’s it like, Ash?”

“The sensation of the warm piss on my body is fascinating. An old girlfriend introduced me to water sports. We did it in the shower. Thanks, Max, for being open-minded.”

“We’re a pair, Ash. The Dynamic Duo of Poop and Piss!”

“Let’s get soaped up. Holler when you want me to do your back, Max.”

“Ready.”

Asher started on Max’s broad shoulders, circling the washcloth down to his meaty ass mounds. He lathered his hands, then entered the deep crack. His right middle finger cleansed, then gently penetrated Max’s asshole.

Max’s reaction was predictable. He got a hard-on.

“Wow, Max. I don’t have to imagine anymore.”

Max said, “Do me a solid. Give me a quick hand job.”

Without comment, Asher stood behind him, wrapped his hand around the rock-hard dick, and began pumping. He saw the appeal of a big dick. His penis, now awake, swayed back and forth and between Max’s substantial ass cheeks, in a grinding motion.

When Max’s legs stiffened, Asher knew he was about to blow. Which he did. Big. Multiple thick ropes of jizz spurted from Max’s penis on the concrete floor, feet away. Max closed his eyes and tilted his head back, enjoying the rush that comes with a satisfying orgasm.

“Damn, Ash, that was great. I don’t see how you can top that.”

“You know I’ll always have your back, Max.”

Ted and Adam

In the towering glass facade of downtown's premier corporate headquarters, Ted and Adam navigated the daily grind of spreadsheets, meetings, and relentless deadlines. Both in their mid-20s, they were the epitome of urban fitness—lean, muscled frames honed from gym sessions and weekend hikes, with sharp jawlines and easy smiles that turned heads in the elevator. Ted, with his tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes, worked in finance; Adam, blond and green-eyed, handled marketing. They barely knew each other beyond polite nods in the hallways, but fate—or perhaps the rhythms of their bodies—had a way of drawing them together in the most unexpected place: the men's restroom on the 15th floor.

The bathroom was a utilitarian expanse, with six stalls lined up like soldiers, separated by wafer-thin dividers that did little to muffle sounds. The gaps at the bottom were high enough to glimpse shadows and shoes, and the open tops allowed echoes to bounce freely. It was a secret symphony for those in the know, a chorus of grunts, explosive farts, and resonant plops as stressed executives sought relief. And for some, like Ted and Adam, it was more: a clandestine spot for a quick wank, the tension of the job melting away in rhythmic strokes amid the anonymity.

Adam loved the morning ritual. Arriving at 8:45 sharp, he'd slip into a stall, drop his slacks, and let his body take over. The first push was always a rush, his firm ass cheeks parting as a thick log emerged, splashing into the water with a deep, satisfying plop. He'd hear others joining in,  a neighboring stall erupting in a barrage of wet farts, another with labored grunts building to a crescendo. It turned him on, the raw masculinity of it all, and often his hand would wander to his hardening cock, stroking slowly as he imagined the men around him doing the same. A shitting asshole, whether confidently crackling a behemoth, or a succession of torpedos ejaculating with brown authority to the roaring cavalry charge of a relentless flow, he took pride and joy in not just indulging the sounds but being part of making them happen.

Ted was similar. his morning and post-lunch dumps were not just legendary in his own mind, he was an exceptional shitter, because he had a unique colon that was bigger and longer than the average man’s colon, which meant his shits were destined for Olympic Gold medals, because his shits were beyond impressive. Apart from his inner circle of friends and his gastroenterologist knowing, he revelled in the quiet joy and pride of his big shits. The  afternoon slump was often banished by the release of a second massive load, coils piling up until the bowl groaned. He'd listen intently, his ears perking at the telltale signs: a soft moan from the next stall, the faint slap of skin on skin. Knowing he wasn't alone in this guilty pleasure made his own sessions hotter, his erection throbbing as he jerked off to the soundtrack of male vulnerability.

Over weeks, their paths crossed more frequently. Mornings for Adam occasionally overlapped with Ted’s; but afternoons saw them side by side. They'd choose adjacent stalls, the thin divider vibrating with each other's efforts. Ted would hear Adam’s deep breaths, the crackle of a turd emerging, followed by explosive plops that echoed like thunder. Adam, in turn, was fascinated by Ted's sighs and grunts, as he seemed to be shitting never ending logs. Adam grew hard hearing the distinct crackling sound of a massive poo gorging its way out and it seemed to last forever. Adam tried to time his own logs so that Ted would hear his ass crackling, but his seemed swift in comparison. Together, their pooing symphony of release, and the subtle, rhythmic sounds was a mutual indulgence. Neither spoke, but the awareness grew like a silent bond forged in shit and secrecy.

Adam had longed to comment on Ted’s big shits, but feared it would make things awkward if it all went south. Afterall, Ted was more senior in the company and what if it was all just an imagined fantasy on his side?

As the months went by though, they began bumping into each other grabbing a coffee, lunch, pissing next to each other at the urinals and of course it seemed their guts became more in sync as they serendipitously would find themselves arriving at the same time for their regular shits.

One Friday afternoon, a few months later, the bathroom emptied except for them. Adam finished first, his final plop echoing triumphantly. As they emerged simultaneously, stalls creaking open, Adam caught Ted's eye - a flush on his cheeks, his fitted shirt clinging to his toned chest. Heart pounding, Adam mustered the courage at the sinks. "Hey man, that sounded like an awesome shit. I bet that felt great."

Ted froze, he felt his cock twitch with excitement. "Aah thanks man, yeah, good shits make for better moods too." His voice was husky, eyes lingering on Adam's reflection in the mirror. Ted chuckled and sheepishly replied: “and a sense of achievement and pride too right? Or maybe it’s just me”. Ted noticed Adam had pressed his pelvis up against the basin, to tame his growing erection. Adam turned to Ted and gave him a warm smile: “That makes two of us, and gave him a wink. We should drink to that, you heading out too after this? Ask Ted.

Adam’s eyes lit up as he tried to contain himself and sound normal. Umh, yea.. I mean no, I don’t have plans, what are you thinking? Ted felt it too, he replied with, let’s do O’Malley’s down in 7th Ave, you know it?

Adam had been there once before, it was the perfect Bar that offered the perfect atmosphere for good chats.

Shall we leave here in 15? Asked Ted as they were both leaving the bathroom? Yeah, said Adam. Sounds good, meet you there.

At the dimly lit bar downtown, they claimed a corner booth, the din of patrons masking their conversation. Beers flowed, loosening tongues. "You know," Adam confessed, our daily shits together at the office has become the best part of my day at the office. Ted felt a warm buzz ignite inside of him, it was his favourite part of the day too and he had the suspicion it was mutual between them. Same bud,  replied Ted. Shitting is a big part of my life both literally and by the amount of pleasure it brings. Ted went on to explain to Adam his unique colon and how he was gifted in how much he could shit. Adam, feeling intrigued by Ted sharing this intimate part about him, smiled boldly at him, shared what he had always suspected. Hearing you shit amazes me man. He admitted how he had over time decided to time the length he would hear Ted’s asshole crackling out a turd and nerdly confessed that 3 minutes was the longest he had heard him shitting what sounded like one continuous log. Ted was flattered but also aroused by this confession. He sheepishly announced, its why I flush often, because I clog the toilet too often and don’t want to be “that guy” who fucks up the office shitters. Ted felt it safe to say, its why I love taking a shit out in the open where I really get to appreciate my shit in all it’s glory.

Where do you live that you get to enjoy shits in the outdoors? Asked Adam. Ted described the cabin he lived out in the North side of the city that was close to the main river where you had mountain countryside against the backdrop of the city, the perfect oasis for the modern man who loved the city but also being out in nature.  His modern cabin was tucked away on a piece of land, just shy of 12 acres. It was declared sacred land and was owned by his forefathers and passed down in the family. Wow, Adam exclaimed in amazement. Lucky you to own that land! Wow, so how does it feel and how often do you do it? Asked Adam.

Morning shits? Like now in summer, it will be most mornings on the weekends mostly, unless the weather doesn’t allow it or I am running late. Sometimes it’s a shit at sunset. Adam was intrigued. He had never really taken a shit in nature. He had experimented before taking a shit on the floor and in a bucket, but longed to shit out in nature. The closest he had come to shitting outdoors was in an outhouse longdrop. This news was surprising to Ted, as it felt like second nature to him. You’ve never experienced the joy of an outdoor shit? Asked Ted? Adam just shook his head.

It was getting late and Ted still had a drive home. There had been a silence between them, as Ted sat thinking, finishing his beer. You got plans tomorrow Ted asked? Nah said Adam, just want to chill after this week. How about you? Ted spoke with confidence as he decided he wanted to invite Adam to his cabin. So you serious about wanting to experience a shit out in nature? Fuck yes, said Adam. Come stay the night at my place. We can drink more beers and chill out and see if your gut allows you to take a shit with me tomorrow outside? I got spare toothbrushes, extra towels and you can shower at my place. Adam, feeling dumbfounded felt honoured and lustfully aroused. He couldn’t believe Ted was inviting him to his place. Was a yearning fantasy about to become reality? Sure he replied with sheepish confidence.

They were ok to drive to his place in convoy, Adam was bursting with anticipation and lust. When they arrived at Ted’s place, Adam was amazed. What an epic spot. It felt rural yet, the city lights were just behind them. The place felt rugged, but clean and safe. Scents of cedar, pine and crisp mountain air filled his nostrils. Ted gave him a quick tour of the place.  The place felt warm and oozed masculinity.

The exterior had rugged hand-hewn cedar logs, a sturdy stone chimney, and a deep covered porch perfect for evenings by the fire pit. Inside, the open great room centered on a massive stone fireplace, surrounded by deep leather armchairs, a wide suede sofa, exposed espresso beams, and warm hardwood floors under an earthy wool rug. The compact kitchen featured rustic white washed cabinets and butcher-block counters, while the bedroom offered a tufted leather bed layered with plaid blankets and crisp linens. It all felt strong, timeless, and quietly stylish—never showy, just inviting.

The open-plan bedroom flowed seamlessly into an expansive, doorless en suite where a crisp white assertive rugged trough-style toilet boldly drew focus. Its exceptionally large, deep bowl built to handle anything with ease, set low and wide so you could sit comfortably with legs spread wide like a king on his throne. Adam could picture Ted naked on the toilet, and the thought of it, sparked lust. Positioned just a couple of feet from a floor-to-ceiling window, it faced outward toward the lush forest view, letting morning light and treetops greet you mid-session. Nearby, a raw, hand-carved rock basin sat heavy and elemental on a dark timber vanity, while the generous walk-in shower—framed only by glass on two sides—opened directly to sliding barn doors that, in summer, could be thrown wide to blur the line between indoors and the whispering pines, turning every rinse into an invigorating communion with nature.

Adam boldly remarked, I bet you have enjoyed plenty of epic shits here? Haha, oh fuck yes, my best seat in the house. Ted boasted with such confidence. But I still love shitting out in the open, you know, as nature intended it. But yeah its not always possible and in the winter, It’s the only sweet spot to take a shit. Love my custom made shitter. Wow, that is impressive thought Adam.

Another beer? Said Ted clapping his hands as he shimmied to towards the kitchen? Uh yeah sure thought Adam. He would need a few more beers to give him an impressive booze poo for the morning outdoor shit and he wanted to be sure he would have a big and urgent load that would hopefully override his nerves and allow him to perform. He was a big shitter too, but had never had a chance to be this intimate, he didn’t want to be clammed up tomorrow, he needed more reinforcement.

After some chilled music, and the brimming confidence inspired by another 3 beers, the feeling felt right. Adam had gone to take a piss and had lowered his pants and underwear, leaving his beautiful ass exposed. Ted had walked into the room, noticed his cute butt invitingly staring at him. I love the way you take a piss. Adam felt his cock becoming aroused. Ted was watching him and began slowly undressing in the room until he was in his underwear as he spoke further. I would love to watch you sitting comfortably on my toilet you know said Ted. I can’t stop thinking of you on this epic throne and what epic shits you must have taken here Adam said. Ted gave a naughty wink as he approached Adam closer and closer while he still stood in front of the toilet. With one hand Ted put his hand hungrily to Adam’s ass. That’s one fine ass you have there mister. Adam quivered with vulnerability and lust. He almost lost his balance in the turn, but Ted caught him and allowed him to glide onto the toilet. Adam sighed with comfort. Wow this feels like the most comfortable shitter I have ever sat on. Ted nodded while still drawing in closer and said, see I knew you would love it.

The sexual energy now electric, ignited with lust as Ted pushed Adam so his back would relax against the wall. Ted put his right leg over to straddle Adam on the toilet and they kissed passionately, both now on the toilet. It felt raw and invigorating and Adam was rock hard, his cock between Ted’s legs while Ted’s cock was raging in his black underwear, bursting to be released. Adam was losing his clothes rapidly as Ted helped ravish them off. But his legs and feet remained constricted, by his pants still around his ankles, shoes still tightly on. Ted slid sleekly backwards and commanded Adam to remain sitting on the throne. He undid his shoe laces and with lustful intent, made a point to do it slowly, taking in the smell of his socks, then his feet and allowing the sensuality of it all to build the sexual tension even further. Ted’s cock was still raging in his underwear, but he would take care of that later. He removed Adam’s work chinos, but grasped Adam’s underwear, while throwing the pants far behind them. Sniff it! Said Adam, I want to watch you sniff the scent of my junk. To which Ted, closing his eyes, brought Ted’s underwear to his face, burying his nose in the hot sweet musky scent of Adam’s underwear. Fuck that’s hot and wild. Ted paused, his cock now raging and beginning to leak pre cum from the hot intensity of Adam’s feet, body and underwear. His cock bounced as it released from its holding. His beautiful and thick uncut cock begging to be sucked. Adam and Ted were both well endowed. Adam wanted Ted’s cock in his mouth and he signalled him closer. He was in the perfect position. He leaned forward and took Ted’s cock to his face. First smelling the rich manly aroma, not overpowering, just the right kind of scent that drove Adam wild. He caressed his cock slowly with his tongue before really going for it. Ted was ecstatic and so turned on by Adam’s talented cock sucking, he nearly came, but stopped himself abruptly. Not yet he said, I will shoot my load in your mouth if we didn’t stop. Don’t you want that? Fuck yes, but I want to delight you some more first. Let’s take this to the bedroom he said.

They shifted quickly from the toilet to the bed, both fully naked and hungry for sex. Adam devoured Ted’s ass while Ted was blowing Adam. They didn’t get round to any fucking, because both blew their loads in unison, both exploding in shuddering climaxes. It was the most profound connection either had known

Saturday dawned, but with it a cosy storm. The clouds had rolled in to bring gentle thunder and a steady rainfall.  Adam stirred, appreciating the cabin's charm: wooden beams, a cozy kitchen, and through the windows, endless greenery against the misty grey skies. Over coffee on the porch, the familiar urge hit them both—bellies rumbling, asses clenching.

"Remember what we talked about last night?" Ted grinned, eyes sparkling. "That fantasy... an intimate bush dump."

Adam's cock stirred again. "Here? Now?"

Well no, not right now. My shitter will have to do, replied Ted. But…I mean after last night – and wow!! Just by the way, winked Ted, I want to experience the ultimate with you. We’ve been shitting next to each other for how long now at the office? Adam smiled looking down, responding warmly: Months I know. Like we discovered yesterday evening, we both passionate about shitting and I love that you can admit that. I thought I was the only one so crazy to that way.

Nah man, it’s not crazy at all said Ted.

What might be crazy is that… Adam paused.

What? Asked Ted intrigued.

This may be too crazy because we only just got naked last night and… its maybe too early.

Ted extended his leg towards Adam, who was sitting towards his right. He gave Adam a intentional peek of his dick through his thin silky boxers that he knew Adam ‘s eyes were drawn to. Ted oozed sex appeal, lying back casually, with just his thin boxers on, cock now starting to bulge in the crotch area. His olive skin body was toned perfection.

Ted grabbed his own cock, cupping it with his right hand. He said:  I’m wanking way too much solo on the shitter these days and sex has felt so vanilla this past year. I want more kink and intensity. I’m bored fucking women and they don’t get my fantasy of a blumpkin or hot fuck on the shitter. I am finding myself way more into men and if I am being honest, I want to get dirty with you and last night drove me wild the way you ate my ass out and blew my cock and fuck… your cock was the best and hottest cock I have ever sucked. Fuck you even bigger than me and that drives me wild! And the best part is… Do you know what the fucking best is?

Adam was hanging on his words… I think I may know, but I want to hear it.

Ted exclaimed, that you love shitting as much as I do! Fuck that turns me on.

Adam was blown away by Ted’s confession. I feel the same bro. Shitting, wanking, fucking, and getting fucked are the ultimate.

There was a calming yet sexually charged silence. Ted downed his last bit of coffee and so did Adam. You feeling it yet? Ted asked. Yeah I can feel something brewing…

Adam followed Ted inside towards the bathroom.

Was Ted nervous? Or was it the mounting pressure of an impending shit and him trying to exercise sphincter control? Ted was doing the dance and had a grimace in his face. How urgent is yours he asked Adam? I’m still good. Said Adam

Aaah thank God, ok well I’m going first then, I really need to shit. As his words came out, so Ted dropped his sleeper shorts to reveal his beautiful naked arse towards Adam. He was swift and began making his way to the toilet.

Adam found it incredibly sexy that Ted’s perfectly toned bubble butt that oozed such sex appeal as he walked, was about to put on a show for him. Ted took proud ownership of the toilet, legs spread wide and confidently, his cock, already semi hard, hung forward naturally, the shaft thickening just enough to arc gently downward, while his balls dangled low and loose, swaying freely without clinging tight to his scrotum. It all positioned perfectly inside the rim of the classic open-front horseshoe seat.

His perched his feet onto the squat stool to raise his legs up. He definitely was a serious shitter who understood the benefit of simulating a squat for a better smoother release. His muscular smooth legs and thighs spread perfectly, was a sight of pure masculine sexiness. Now settled comfortably on the shitter, he reached down and lifted his cock upward with a casual grip, revealing his beautiful bubble butt nestled comfortably into the seat's contours—the rounded cheeks spreading just right in a perfect, inverted heart shape that cradled him securely. His asshole puckered invitingly in the ideal intended position, centered and relaxed, primed for a smooth release. What an epic view.

Ted’s asshole immediately began crowning widely, as an assertively large turd was already poking its way out. You ready said Ted? Fuck yes said Adam, his cock raging from the anticipation and thrill of what he was about to witness…

Here goes… Ted gently tipped his head back, eyes closed and let his asshole do the work. Ted’s anus was a true marvel and his shit - thick, smooth, and incredibly long, with a wonderful fibrous texture like a thick rope, its surface a rich mixture of similar shades of dark brown, veined subtly with earthy tones. It slid out with a soft rustling sound like silk against skin, followed by a gentle ppffffft as air escaped around it. As the end pinched off with a quiet finality, his uncircumcised cock—held upwards and to the side to give Adam an unobstructed view of his flexing asshole—gave a half salute, twitching upward in a subtle nod of release.

It coiled lazily into the toilet, no loud plops, but a soft shhhlup as it gently touched down, grazing the side of the bowl as it came to rest up against it. As he continued shitting,  loop after loop formed a perfect spiral, the length seeming endless as his body worked it free. A quiet moan escaped his lips, not dramatic but profoundly satisfying, a low "mmh" that vibrated through him like a wave of relief washing over his fit frame.

Adam stood transfixed in front of the toilet, transfixed on Ted’s asshole, his eyes wide with bedazzled arousal, the intimacy of the moment pulling him in like a magnet. He watched as the succession continued: another big, long one followed seamlessly, firm and unyielding, its smooth fibrous texture gleaming like coiled ropes in those deep brown hues, rustling out with that same subtle whisper, punctuated by sporadic ppfffffts that filled the air with a raw, earthy scent. As this one pinched off, Ted's cock nodded again, a half salute that sent a thrill through Adam's veins. Ted's colon gifted yet more, the pieces coiling in a mesmerizing, very long succession, each one thicker than the last, his body handling it with effortless confidence. Midway through, as another robust length eased out and pinched free—prompting yet another twitchy nod from his cock—a few drops of piss escaped the tip, dripping warmly against his inner thigh, the unexpected trickle adding to the raunchy allure without a hint of mess.

Adam felt a surge of amazement at the sheer scale, intrigued by the raunchiness unfolding before him—the lust in Ted's quiet sighs, the bold vulnerability of it all—his own pulse quickening, drawn deeper into the erotic haze of the scene. Ted let out another soft, mind-blowingly content groan, his relief palpable yet understated, as the final coil settled, leaving them both in a charged silence. In the aftermath, Adam's gaze lingered on Ted's anus, surprisingly clean and not as soiled as he would have imagined after that long anal workout—smooth, pinkish-brown, and only lightly kissed with residue, a testament to the effortless confidence of the act.

Adam understood now why Ted needed a custom made toilet. Even with its extended size and large landing area, it was full and no normal toilet would be able to handle this amount of shit without being completely clogged.

Fuuuck man! That was amazing! Adam stood up, his cock raging with an erection as he approached Ted closer. Ted took Adam’s cock in his right hand, gripping it confidently and giving it a stroke to reveal that his cock was wet from pre cum. Ted took Adam’s cock in his mouth and slowly sucked his cock while staring intently into Adam’s eyes. Adam felt waves of pleasure cascading in his body… Adam abruptly had to withdraw, announcing, I really have to shit now too…..

Please be my guest Ted gestured as he stood up, Ted proceeded to flush. The niagra fall flush surprisingly handled Ted’s massive poo pile with relative ease, leaving the toilet scarred with epic skidmarks. Adam took to Ted’s toilet, loving the warm seat and feeling a sense of ultimate honour. Ted said, now your turn.

Adam could feel the pressure in his asshole and as he positioned himself to give Ted a show, his asshole momentarily went shy. But it wasn’t long because the urge was stronger and so he relented and let his asshole do it’s job. A thick long turd made an urgent exit, sending a distinct plop of a heavy turd crash landing In the water below. Aarrgh!!! Fuck… that felt good, said Adam softly, feeling an overwhelming wave approaching….

Nice said Ted, that was an epic landing….

Oh fuck, shit its coming…. Exclaimed Adam, a bit worried that this would be a shit spatter.

It wasn’t fortunately but what did follow was a messy torrent of shit – loud, strong flowing and primal. Shame, disgust and lust danced together as Adam’s asshole gave a very different performance to Ted’s.

Ted was equally intrigued as Adam was, fascinated and honoured to be witnessing such intense intimacy. The look between them as their eyes met mid shit, gave Adam the assurance that Ted was loving this, and so, his cock growing stiffer, he let go of any shame and pushed with pride, his man hole gorging with confidence.

Finally it stopped and Adam seemed to have held his breathe the hold time, let out a sigh of pure relief… Fuck that was intense!

Adam noticed Ted with a very stiff boner, giving him the confidence that Ted enjoyed the show! Fuck yeah bro, that was epic!!!

The toilet was quite full of a mushy mess, but seemed like a giant had had an average shit simply because of the size of the toilet. A regular toilet would have been filled well above the water line, but this toilet had space for more than double the capacity.

Ted then did what Adam would never have expected. He said, I want to shit on your shit, let me hop on, I’v got round two already waiting.

My god, really? Said Adam surprised.

Oh yeah said Ted, I mean it when I said, I have a very large colon.

As they swapped seats again, Ted was back on the toilet and was going to shit his load onto Adam’s below.

Ted got himself comfortable, but this time just leaned forward as he waited for the next load to unleash.

Adam, not sure what to do next, let his lust lead the way and he went down on his knees in front of Ted. Ted’s cock was still hard and Adam wanted more than ever, to blow Ted while he was shitting.

Do you mind asked Adam….

Without Ted having much of a chance to answer, Adam took his cock into his mouth and began rhythmically sucking Ted’s beautiful uncut cock, while using his other hand to gently massage his foreskin up and down as he tantilised the tip of his cock.

Shame danced with desire as Ted, having never experienced this before, trusted Adam and let himself go too.

Adam could not believe how Ted’s asshole just kept giving and giving, crackle after crackle the turds kept coming. Ted was starting to relax more and lean into the sensation… as he approached orgasm, it was like his asshole shifted into 5 gear to ramp up for the climax.

Jets of warm cum erupted in Adam’s mouth as a now torrent of shit was exploding out of Ted’s asshole…. Ted jolting from pure ecstasy, his cock slipping out of Adam’s mouth, while he was still coming, as a stream of cum landed on Adam’s ear, shoulder and chest. Adam felt the warm cum trickle down his back as he attempted to continue swallowing the mouth full of cum in his mouth.

Spent and still quivering slightly from the aftermath. Ted regained himself again properly on the toilet. Another full load, this time their shit mixed in together in a heaped pile beneath.

Adam stood up, while Ted remained seated on the toilet. Ted widened his legs and sat back for them to admire the load below. This was the ultimate intimacy. No more needed to be said. Adam leaned down and slowly kissed Ted. Ted tasting the reminants of his own cum.

I want you now to cum inside of me said Ted.

Adam still close to Ted’s mouth as they were kissing, said, I don’t have more shit in my tank like you bro…

That’s not a problem, I meant, I want your cock inside my asshole please! I want to feel that monster inside of me.. and I want you to fuck me on the shitter.

They were both standing by this point, hands around each other’s asses. Ted turned Adam so his back faced the toilet so he could take his seat. Adam almost flung back onto the toilet. Ted taking assertive charge.

"Goddamn chili cheese fries," Charlie grumbled, slamming the front door hard enough to make the framed photo of my mom rattle on the wall. I recognized that tone—half-pissed, half-desperate—the one he got when his stomach was staging a full-scale rebellion.

I was mid-stroke when I heard the first volcanic gurgle echo down the hallway. The phone screen flickered with last night's footage: Charlie at the diner, cheeks flushed from beer, unleashing a thunderous fart into the vinyl booth that made the waitress drop her tray. My thumb hovered over pause, but then came the sound of belt buckle hitting floorboards, followed by the frantic slap of bare feet on linoleum.

The bathroom door flew open before I could react, the knob denting the drywall as Charlie barreled in like a runaway freight train. His gut wobbled violently beneath the thick mat of chest hair, skin flushed pink with gastrointestinal distress. "Fuckin'—*move*—" he managed between clenched teeth, one meaty hand already pushing my knees apart.

I barely had time to register the heat radiating off his naked body before he straddled the toilet bowl with a wet slap of thighs. The smell hit me first—rancid chili grease and sour beer—then the sound, a deep intestinal growl like a cement mixer full of pudding. Charlie braced both hands on the tank, shoulders hunching as his colon announced its surrender with an apocalyptic *BLORRRRRP*.

The first explosive blast hit the water with the force of a firehose, sending lukewarm toilet water splashing up against my thighs and lower back. Charlie groaned like a wounded bear, his whole body convulsing as another torrent of semi-liquid chili remnants erupted from his quivering asshole. Chunks of undigested fries splattered against the porcelain bowl while the stench of fermented beef and melted cheese filled the steamy bathroom air—thick enough to taste.

"Christ on a cracker," Charlie wheezed, his hairy knuckles whitening around the toilet tank as his guts unleashed another violent contraction. A long, wet fart spiraled out between clenched cheeks, followed by what sounded like a gallon of chunky soup draining from his bowels. I watched, mesmerized, as a single bead of sweat rolled down the cleft between his hairy shoulder blades and disappeared into the swampy crease of his ass.

The toilet bowl was already half-full of Charlie's putrid brown slurry when his knees buckled, his massive frame shuddering as another cramp tore through him. "Fuck—*fuck*—" he gasped, his hairy asscheeks clenching and unclenching like a hungry sea anemone. A fresh cascade of liquid filth poured out of him, splattering against the back of the bowl with a sound like wet cement hitting pavement. The stench was unbearable—like a dumpster behind a taco stand in mid-July—but I couldn't look away. My dick throbbed in my hand, still slick with pre-cum, twitching every time Charlie's guts gurgled.

Charlie slumped forward, his sweaty forehead pressing against the bathroom wall as his colon unleashed a series of wet, sputtering farts. "Goddamn Hopkinson's chili," he groaned, referring to the sketchy diner where he'd eaten last night. "Tastes like heaven, shits like hell." His stomach emitted a noise somewhere between a drowning walrus and a broken garbage disposal. Another wave hit him, and suddenly I felt something warm and slimy drip onto my thigh—a rogue turdlet had escaped the bowl entirely.

Charlie's body tensed violently as another spasm wracked his gut, his thick thighs trembling against mine. The rogue turdlet slithered down my leg just as Charlie unleashed a fresh torrent—this one thicker, chunkier, with visible bits of undigested corn and onion that plopped into the swirling brown soup below. His hole pulsed obscenely with each contraction, the swollen pink rim gaping wider than I'd ever seen it.

"Fuck me sideways," Charlie panted, his hairy chest heaving. His ass cheeks were slick with sweat and splattered droplets of his own filth. The sight of his ruined, quivering hole sent a jolt of electric need straight to my cock. Before I could think better of it, my free hand reached up and smacked his left cheek—hard. The meaty slap echoed off the tiles, followed by Charlie's startled grunt.

Charlie's grunt turned into a low, guttural moan as his ass clenched around nothing. The slap left a red handprint on his hairy cheek, stark against the sweat-slicked skin. "Jesus fuck, boy," he panted, but his hips rocked back instinctively, pressing his swollen hole against my thigh. The heat radiating off him was unreal—like sticking your hand in a freshly dumped compost heap.

I didn't hesitate. My cock slid through the mess with a wet schlick, the head catching on his twitching rim. Charlie's whole body jerked, a fresh gout of diarrhea spilling out around my shaft as I pushed in. The sensation was unreal—hot, slippery, the chunky remains of his chili-shit oozing between us in thick globs. His colon clamped down like a wet fist, massaging my dick with each convulsive spasm.

The moment my cock bottomed out inside him, Charlie’s whole body seized like he’d been electrocuted. A guttural, almost wounded noise tore from his throat as his asshole fluttered around me, squeezing in erratic pulses that sent little sprays of liquid shit leaking down my balls. His stomach gave another ominous gurgle—a deep, subterranean sound that vibrated through both our bodies—before unleashing another torrent that splattered against my pubes. “Fuck, fuck, *fuck*,” he chanted, his voice cracking as his hole milked me through the mess.

I gripped his hairy hips hard enough to leave bruises, my fingers sinking into the soft give of his beer gut as I pulled out halfway and slammed back in. The squelch was obscene, a wet, sloppy noise that echoed off the bathroom tiles like a perverted applause. Charlie’s knees buckled, his massive frame shuddering as another cramp wracked him, his colon convulsing around my dick in a way that made my vision blur. “Don’t you—*hnng*—don’t you stop,” he growled, his voice thick with something between pain and pleasure, his ass clenching down like it was trying to suck me deeper.

Charlie’s breath came in ragged bursts, his thick chest heaving as his body struggled between the competing forces of expulsion and penetration. His hairy back arched suddenly, the muscles beneath his sweat-slicked skin tensing like coiled springs as another violent cramp tore through him. I felt it before I heard it—his asshole fluttering wildly around my cock, then the hot, pressurized spray of liquefied chili remnants erupting around our joined bodies. The stench was biblical, thick enough to coat the back of my throat, but Charlie’s choked-out moan of relief was sweeter than any oxygen.

Professor Carlton had learned about M’s “hospitality” towards a couple of his colleagues through the grapevine.

The two hadn’t met one another, neither been one another’s student or a teacher, but had exchanged glances on occasion.

One Thursday morning, during a break in classes. Professor Carlton and M crossed paths.

“Oh M, is it?” The professor asked stopping the senior.

“Yes..” M answered with a tinge of a puzzling tone.

”I’ve heard how you’ve been helping some of your mates this semester.” Prof. Carlton exclaimed

“I’m not sure I follow?” M responded.

“From what I hear you’ve been a great tutor to your peers. Quite the Wizard of Oz.” Prof. Carlton added.

M picked up that this may have been a gay reference. Was the professor hitting on him? To another student, this could be harassment, but to M it was intriguing. After all he had admired Professor Carlton before. So he continued to play along.

”Oh yes” M replied

“I know some department’s are looking for TA’s and or peer tutor’s. Would you stop by my office this evening to discuss?”

“Sure.” M replied curious as to what this meeting would entail.

“My office 7pm?” Prof. Carlton asked

“See you then.” M followed up

The day went on and as 7pm neared, M prepared to head to Professor Carlton’s office.

M climbed the final set of stairs and walked halfway down a corridor to find Professor Carlton’s office on the right side. The rest of the offices along the way were either closed or empty, it was so quiet, only M’s foot steps could be heard.

As M entered he knocked on the door frame.

“Come in and close the door.” Professor Carlton answered as he sat finishing up some work.

“Take a seat” Professor Carlton offered.

M sat down and waited a minute as the Professor completed grading a paper.

“Am I in trouble?” M implored

“I don’t know, are you in trouble?” the professor retorted before grinning ”I’m joking” before reaching to take a sip of what appeared to be a glass of whiskey.

M made a small laugh to ease the tension.

Professor Carlton then stood up and walked over to the large leaded glass windows behind his desk to look out at the now darkening sky.

M could get a good look at the Professor now. He was a man in his mid to late forties. Dressed as a typical academic at the time, suit, vest and tie. He had a slight British accent when he spoke, probably somewhere in Southern England, near London.

“I know we haven’t met really, but I’ve seen you around.” Professor Carlton added.

“Oh really.” M answered

“Yeah we’ve passed one another in the halls between classes. I remember on at least one occasion we bumped into one another in the loo.”

M knew exactly the moment he was talking about “Ah yes, you entered and walked up to the sink as I was washing up.”

“Exactly.”

“What did you do after?” M asked, curious what Professor would say.

“After what?”

“After I had walked out, you were still in front of the sink.” M added

Professor Carlton turned to M smiling and then laughed a little. So too did M.

“You’re funny.” Professor Carlton stated. He returned to the desk and picked up his whiskey to take another sip.

“Do you enjoy a drink?” He asked M. “Oh I should clarify, this is the last of it, so I apologize in advance for being a poor host.”

“I do.” M replied

“About once a week, I’ll have a drink after work, a little way to relax.”

“Relax, how so?” M followed up, his tone now clearly smug and flirty.

Professor Carlton paused for a little moment looking out the window once again, before returning to the desk once more to set his drink down. He then took his brown tweed suit jacket off, draped it over his desk chair. He rolled his white shirt sleeves up and then proceeded to do a near perfect handstand, before returning upright.

“That’s one way.” He replied.

”I’m impressed.” M commented.

“I used to be a gymnast when i was younger.”

Returning to his desk chair, Professor Carlton took another sip. ”It’s not the only way though.” He added.

M looked on waiting for more context.

“Did you still want to know what happened after we crossed paths in the loo?”

”Do say.” M responded

Professor Carlton stood up and walked to the left across the room to approach a door.

“I headed over to one of the stalls.”

He then opened the door to reveal a small, but well appointed vintage washroom with a toilet right in front of the door. The toilet had to be from the 1920s or earlier, a white porcelain bowl that transitioned into a somewhat boxy base down to the floor. The seat and lid like many others at the school was wooden and the tank slightly elevated. White hexagonal tiles dotted with the occasional black tile covered the floor. Extending halfway up the wall was white subway tile. a small sink was just out of view.

“I stepped inside. and lifted the lid.” He narrated, as he reached and carefully placed it against the tank.

Professor Carlton turned around, now standing in front of the toilet to face out towards M and his office.

He began to unbuckle his belt “I loosened my belt and lowered my trousers.” He then unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them gently down to his ankles. Revealing argyle shin length socks and red y-front briefs trimed in white.

He lowered his legs and briefs in one movement to reveal his bush and cock as he sat down on the wooden seat. ”And I sat down on the loo.”

M’s heart quickened with arousal in view of the professor.

“I had been in a staff meeting that morning for an hour. You couldn’t tell, but I needed the loo terribly.” Professor Carlton added.

“M could you do me a favor and bring me that journal on the desk as well as that pack of cigarettes.” He motioned pointing towards his desk.

M picked the items up and walked over to the seated Professor. Trying to hide the excitement building in his cock.

Handing the journal and pack to the professor, M could see Professor Carlton’s hairy legs and thighs up close. The professor’s taut ass sat neatly on the walnut seat.

“Thank you. You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

“Not at all.” M replied

“Lovely. I…” The professor replied before pausing himself. a deep fart echoed across the bowl.

“Oh how rude of me.” the professor added, flashing a slight grin.

“…I was hoping you would say that.” He continued placing the journal off to the side and took a cigarette out of the pack along with a lighter from his pocket.

“Can I do the honors?” M motioned towards the lighter

the professor handed M the lighter. As M leaned down towards the professor to light the end of the cigarette, M’s rock hard dick came closer and caught the professor’s eye.

The professor took a small hit and then exhaled.

”I can’t help but notice those trouser’s must be a bit tight and restrictive. If you’d feel more comfortable you can remove them.” The professor offered.

Both men smiled at one another and M proceeded to remove his pants, tossing them to the side to reveal his briefs. The outline of his dock in full view. M began to Slightly stroke it.

“You’re so turned on right now.” The professor added.

The professor moaned a slight bit and reached down to hold down his cock as piss began to trickle into the bowl turning to a steady stream. As it slowed, the professor sighed. He lifted his own stiff dick onto the seat.

Taking another drag, the professor continued “M, I’d suggest you take those off.” Pointing to M’s underwear. “Unless you want to make a mess all over them.”

M looked at the professor as if asking for more context.

“I bet you wanna know if I’ve been teasing you this whole time, huh?”

M nodded his head.

“I can assure, I haven’t been.” He added The professor looked down at M’s brief’s again, motioning for M to remove.

M proceeded to lower them to reveal his bare ass and cock.

The professor took another drag. “We’ll..” He then paused to sit up and left his mouth open slightly.

A wet crackle then sounded from the professor’s ass. A gassy plop followed by another hit the water as the professor moaned.

“I hope you can take the smell.” The professor finished.

M’s dick was practically leaking at this point.

He paused again to take another drag before setting the butt down on an ashtray located on a small shelf above the commode.

“Here let me help you out.” The professor motioned for M to come closer and began stroking M’s dick with his hand.

“Now I can’t let you ruin my good suit can I?” He smiled again. He took the tip of M’s dick into his mouth and began to lick it M moaned. The professor kissed M’s dick before pinching off a final plop. M came into the professor’s mouth.

M moaned and took a moment to catch his breath. The professor wiped his mouth. M looked down and noticed the professor’s erect dick standing straight up and smiled before kneeling down.

“Ah wait.” the professor stopped M quick. “A flush, my courtesy.” He stated reaching to pull down the handle and wash away his waste. After the bowl gurgled and the fresh water arose, the professor motioned to M “Go right ahead.”

M took the professor’s dick in his mouth. He moved up and down. “Ohh.” The professor uttered as one of his hands gripped the side the nearby sink.

Professor Carlton braced himself as he moaned. M pulled the professor’s dick out of his mouth and stroked it, now erect and wet.

“Cum on my face.” M said in a low, but commanding tone.

Only seconds later, the professor’s semen shot onto and across M’s face.

As the professor recovered, he offered M a handkerchief.

As M cleaned his face with the handkerchief and water from the sink the professor spoke up.

“You know if you’re still interested in being a TA or tutor, I can talk to one of the other department heads and recommend you.”

M and the professor burst into laughter.

“I’m serious.” The professor clarified

“Sure, I’m still interested. Keep me posted.” M stated as he zipped up his pants with a grin on his face.

"Check it out, Wes, I caught another one!"

"What are you up to now, Colton, an even eight?"

"Yeah, dude. We're gonna eat good tonight. That's enough fish for today. Anyway, I gotta take a shit for a while. Start up the motor and aim this bitch for the camp. I need to go."

With a single pull, Wes fired up the Mercury and set full speed ahead for the shore.

After five days of camping, both men were attuned to each other's pooping habits. Out of necessity. With feral hogs known to be in the area, safety was paramount. Coolers were kept in the truck bed. Food was stored in bags suspended high in a tree, 50 meters from the tent.

There was no private shitting. It was a safety issue. When either pooped, the other stood watch with a double-barrel 12 gauge at the ready.

"Let's go," Colton said, urgency in his voice.

Wes followed Colton to the portable toilet.

"You ready, Wes," Colton asked as he dropped his drawers and sat down.

"I got your back, Colton, shit away."

With his finger on the trigger, Wes kept an eye on Colton while scanning the piney woods. Feral hogs are stealthy. And fast. They travel in groups.

Colton, having learned everything he knew about fishing and camping from his dad, was apprehensive every time he pooped. They had a set of four alarmed motion sensors, which sounded if any hogs or intruders entered the perimeter of their camp.

With that, he started pushing. This was going to be a big one, he thought. Colton caught the fish. Wes did the cooking. They'd been eating like kings.

Wes watched as numerous fat, chunky pieces of shit tumbled into the clear plastic bag under Colton's ass. After a few seconds, Colton said, "There's more." A second wave splattered into the bag.

"You get it all out, Colton," Wes asked.

"Yeah, sure did. I feel much better now. I'm not gonna chance it. Gonna hurry up and wipe."

Colton lifted his ass to wipe as Wes watched.

"I think we can get two or three more shit loads in here before I need to change the bag," he told Wes.

(only pics are AI)

WES

Asher likes to retell the story of how he met Max. They were postgrads at McCombs School of Business at the University of Texas, working toward a Master of Management in Hospitality.

Max’s dream of owning a restaurant was years in the making. With his connections and networking abilities, he obtained financing to build on his chosen site in Austin. Asher was tasked to design his dream kitchen.

After years of hard work, determination, judicious risk-taking and a bit of luck, they were the duo behind Zaffiro, a bistro located in Austin’s urban core. It’s known for northern Italian cuisine, with an emphasis on freshwater fish and filled pastas. Zaffiro was awarded one Michelin star in 2024, the first year of Michelin eligibility in Texas.

Max is General Manager, overseeing business operations and the front of the house. Asher is Executive Chef, jefe of the back of the house.

The restaurant business is difficult, as attested by anyone who ever worked in one. With the Michelin star came crowds, media coverage and national recognition. Neither man rested on laurels. Their goals were to innovate and improve. An additional star would be icing on the cake.

Spouses and children were on the horizon for now.

“Hey Max, I’ve been thinking.”

“I get worried when you say that, Ash.”

“We’ve been on the job fifty hours a week since 2023. We have a good team. The place is running like clockwork. How about a vacation? Somewhere with no crowds. Outdoors. How does a rainforest sound?”

“I like it. You’ve done research? Pray tell.”

“There’s a couple with two cabins in a small compound south of the National Park in San José, Costa Rica, near Uvita. From the looks of it, it’s fucking paradise. There’s whale-watching, diving, kayaking, waterfalls, sea caves, hiking trails.

“I have a layout of the compound. You should know it’s not The White Lotus. It’s not a luxury resort. There’s no fine dining, no spa, no influencers. You can hike fifteen minutes and see a waterfall. You in?”

Max answered, “You’re reading my mind. I’ve been thinking about how much I want to get out of this town. What else?”

“I checked the best times to visit Costa Rica. ‘Green season’ is coming up. Yeah, it’s rainy, but the crowds are lower, and it doesn’t rain all day. The rainforest is lush.”

“Sounds like a plan, Ash. Let’s carve out two weeks. I just finished quarterlies, so no upcoming reporting deadlines. Get on it!”

“I’m ahead of you, Max. I have their contact info. I checked availability and found open days. Once I get confirmation, I’ll notify the staff. No need for an all-hands. I’ll send details to the leads when I have them.”

“Tell me about the meals situation, if there is one,” Max continued.

“The hosts opened the place 10 years ago. Good reviews, too. There’s a communal area for dining, coffee, drinks, snacks. They provide breakfast and will pack a lunch if we order in advance. Dinner we’re on our own, but guess what. Uvita has a food scene, lots of restaurants, casual, upscale, the works.”

“Fucking sold, Ash!”

Rodrigo and Isabella were amiable and gracious hosts. Everything was in order. The accommodations and location were spectacular. Since it was late afternoon, they decided to drop off their belongings and find a restaurant.

“Hey Ash, you mind if we turn in early tonight? I’m tired after that five-hour flight. I want to get an early start tomorrow.”

“I’m with you, Max. I have some ideas for stuff we can do. I’ll run ‘em by you later.”

The guys met their hosts for Desayuno Típico, the typical Costa Rican breakfast, a simple meal found in homes around the country. Starters included fresh fruit—papaya, pineapple and cantaloupe—served with strong coffee and fresh-squeezed juices. The heart of the breakfast is Gallo Pinto, a mixture of rice and black beans sautéed with onions, red bell peppers, garlic and cilantro. The secret ingredient is Salsa Lizano, a slightly sweet, slightly spicy, brown vegetable-based sauce.

There were eggs (huevos), fried plantains, and natilla, a thin, slightly sour Costa Rican cream, typically dolloped over the Gallo Pinto or the eggs. Handmade corn tortillas round out the meal.

Near the end of the big breakfast, Asher whispered to Max, “I need to shit.” Max replied, “So do I. Let’s go.”

Max led the way down the path to the facilities. The “ceiling” was made of tree branches intertwined with vines. Max took the toilet in the back. A second toilet was directly in front of it at a right angle.

“Well, this’ll be a new experience, Ash. We’re pooping in front of one another, and everything that entails. You OK with this, as if there were any other choice.”

“I guess I was right when I said this isn’t The White Lotus,” Asher answered, as he dropped his shorts and sat down. He felt nervous anticipation.

Max farted twice. Asher let a long, airy poot.

Seconds later, Asher’s asshole spread wide. Numerous wet and sticky turds splashed in the water below. It was loud and dramatic.

“I’d say you got it all out, Ash.”

Max then loosed a steady stream of crackling mush into the bowl with force. It lasted almost four seconds.

“Wow, dude, that was epic,” Asher commented. “There is an upside,” he continued. “With no doors, no ceiling, I don’t have to smell your shit.”

“You forget I’m downwind from you.”

“Whatever, dude. I’m about to wipe my ass now. See these trash bins? The plumbing can’t handle toilet paper. Used paper goes in the bins. Otherwise, you’ll be the one telling our hosts you clogged the toilet.”

“Will do, Ash.”

Asher lifted his ass cheek, then ran the toilet paper up his crack. He checked it, saw it was very dirty, then tossed it into the bin. He wiped four more times.

Max, silent, took it all in, low-key. It was the first time he’d seen a man taking a shit. And another first that a man watched him perform his most intimate act. Max was accustomed to being in charge, not vulnerable.

As he sat there, a big shit load floating underneath him, his mind raced. He looked at his business partner. Asher was tall and well-built, with a textbook bubble butt. Seeing his ass from the side only accentuated its roundness and heft. He even had a butt dimple. His thighs were muscular and sculpted, with a wisp of blond hair. Even his calves were chiseled.

Max was intrigued. And curious. The look of concentration on Asher’s face. His farts. How he held his breath, then tightened his stomach when pushing. The sound of his chunky shit hitting the water. The look of relief. The smell. The smile at the end. Max, who always played the strait-laced boss, envied Asher’s easygoing playfulness.

Then there was the way Asher wiped his ass. He didn’t stand up, like he did. He wasn’t a front wiper either. He was a folder, and not a “one and done” guy. No courtesy-flush. Being a numbers man, he gave Asher an “A” in shitting.

His thoughts manifested in the part of his body that had a mind of its own—his penis, which was growing, thickening, and leaking profusely. Asher could see between his legs if he looked in his direction, so he covered his crotch discreetly with his left hand, pushing his penis down as if pissing. He didn’t care if Asher saw his thick pubic hair.

Max rose from the toilet, positioned his ass toward Asher, bent over slightly, then dug in. He was reluctant to reveal his penis to Asher just yet.

“So, you stand up to wipe. That’s a new one.” Asher looked in Max’s bowl. “Would it be a faux pas for the Executive Chef to comment on the General Manager’s impressive shit load? Would that be taken as a compliment?” Asher again displaying his laid-back sense of humor, Max thought.

Max, eager to soften his image, and push some boundaries, laughed, “Not at all. Get a good look. But I expect reciprocation. Stand up and let me see what you’ve done, Chef.”

Asher, taken aback slightly, decided to roll with it. He could see that the trip was already influencing Max, who desperately needed to chill.

Asher exuded confidence. He decided to give Max what he appeared to want: A show.

He dropped his shorts on the floor and rose from the toilet, facing Max head on, giving him full view of the bowl. Nothing was left to the imagination.

Asher’s poise extended to his penis size. He was a member of the “Average Guy’s Club.” He was cut. The rub was that he was a grower, not a shower. In some situations, it was downright small. But when erect, it was slightly above average. Upsides were girth and his oversize mushroom head. His pubic bush, a shade or two darker than his blond hair, was lightly trimmed.

“You want to look at my shit? Can you see it from there or do you want to come over here to get a better look?”

“I can see it just fine, Ash. I don’t know how much you usually poop, but this one is a proper bowl-filler,” Max said.

“It’s just another morning, Max. I eat lots of fruit and veggies. All that fiber makes big loads.

“We done here?” Asher asked.

“Yeah, I’m finished. A warm shower sounds good right now. You ready?”

“Sure thing.”

Asher saw Max on the bench, still clothed. Sensing he was nervous, Asher turned on the charm, cracked a joke, then asked, “Are you ready to do this,” pointing to the single shower.

“If you are, dude.”

They stripped and stood under the warm water together. Asher was comfortable in the space. But he felt he needed to break the ice. What better way than a compliment?

“Wow, Max, I always thought you were hung, and damn, those big low-hangers!”

“I get no complaints, Ash.”

“You’re a shower, Max. I’m a grower myself.”

Max returned the compliment. “Nice glutes. You work on them?”

“Yeah, I do a lot of squats.”

“There must be some genes involved. You get some stares,” Max asked. He was finally letting go. Asher was pleased.

“From men and women. I’m used to it.”

After a few minutes, Asher turned to Max.

“Speaking of growing, I haven’t busted a nut in four days. You mind if I jerk off?”

Max blushed and laughed, adding, “Go ahead. Just aim it away from me!”

With Max’s blessing, Asher started masturbating. Soon, his dick was erect. He liked to edge, to prolong the pleasure. He glanced at Max occasionally, noticing he was watching as he continued stroking.

Asher looked at Max, a silent signal to “get ready,” then at Max’s big dick. He closed his eyes, turned away, then came. He counted five spurts.

“Fuck man, that was good,” he said to Max.

“I bet you sleep well tonight,” Max replied.

It was Max’s turn to ask a favor.

“Hey Ash, I have a request before we finish up. There’s something my girlfriend does for me that I can’t physically do myself.”

“What is it, Max?”

“She washes my back. Would you consider taking this washcloth and wash my back? Give it some effort. You won’t hurt me. It feels good to be touched. You know I’m not gay.”

“Sure, I’ll do you if you promise to do me. You want me to wash your ass?”

“Go ahead.”

“OK, turn around for me.” Asher soaped up the washcloth, then started scrubbing Max’s back, beginning with his broad shoulders, working his way down. He placed his left hand on Max’s shoulder for support, then scrubbed some more.

He had an idea. He used his left hand to separate Max’s fleshy ass cheeks. “Bend over slightly, please.” Max complied. Asher used his soapy fingers to cleanse Max’s asshole.

“You all right,” Asher asked.

“Yes. Thanks for indulging me.”

“Any time, partner. You ready to do me?”

“Sure thing. You want me to do your butt like you did mine?”

“Only if you feel comfortable, Max.”

Max started at the bottom. He lathered his hands with a bar of soap, then guided the soap up and down Asher’s deep ass crack until he was satisfied it was clean. He gave Asher’s back a good scrubbing.

“All those squats are really paying off, Ash!”

“Hey Max, If I knew all I had to do to get you to unwind was show you my big ass, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

Max, a smile on his face, had nothing to say.

“Let’s get dressed, Max. I have a whole day planned. There’s active time and relax time.”

Max said, “I’m over making any decisions on this trip. Some days I want to sit on the front porch with my Kindle. Order in lunch. Have strong drinks while we watch the sun set over the Pacific.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I want the ‘chill Max’ when we get back to Austin.”

“That’s my intention, Ash. While we’re talking openly, I have another request. Feel free to turn me down.

“What do you have in mind?”

“I enjoyed pooping with you today. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s not about sex. It’s about a friend I can trust.

“If you agree, let’s meet in that little room every morning for the rest of the trip. Tomorrow let’s switch toilets. I want you to see me the way I saw you a few minutes ago. Am I nuts? Too out there for you?”

“I’ll do it for you, Max. I have a freaky side, too, if you’re up for some exploration.”

“Let’s keep this between us, Ash.”

“Don’t worry, Max. What happens in Costa Rica stays in Costa Rica.”

school boys

Sven, the Norwegian ripped 24-year-old golden blonde boy with a body carved from marble—veins popping on his biceps, a six-pack that could grate cheese, and a thick, uncut cock that hung heavy between his powerful thighs—had been a walking time bomb all fucking day. That brutal hike had stuffed his guts with a colossal load, his colon bloated with what felt like pounds of dense, unyielding shit from all the protein shakes and roughage, while his bladder throbbed like a motherfucker, piss begging to explode. Sweat poured off him, soaking his clothes, his asshole clenching desperately around the impending invasion, every step sending jolts of filthy anticipation straight to his dick. By the time he crashed through his apartment door, he was feral, horned up from the pressure teasing his prostate like a dirty secret.

He stripped naked in a frenzy, ripping off his drenched shirt to expose his sweat-glistening chest, nipples erect and begging for a twist. Pants and Jockstrap hit the floor next, his cock slapping against his thigh, already thickening from the raw urgency. Naked and primal, his athletic frame slick and musky, Sven planted his bare ass on the toilet seat, legs splayed wide like he owned the fucking world. The cool porcelain kissed his sweaty crack, making his hole twitch in excitement.

The piss came first—a violent, steaming gush that roared out of his piss slit, splashing wildly as his bladder unloaded in ecstasy. He let out a deep, relieved sigh, the burn melting into pure bliss, his cock stiffening to half-mast as the relief flooded his veins like heroin. But the real filth was brewing deeper. His bowels churned with at least six long, girthy turds, each one a behemoth in its own right, packed tight from his manly diet, ready to emerge one by one in a drawn-out symphony of release.

Sven bore down, his abs rippling like steel cables under his sweat-slicked skin, a low groan rumbling from his chest as the first turd descended. He leaned forward slightly, peeking between his legs to watch his asshole in action—that hairy, manly ring, dark curls framing the puckered pink centre, usually tight and guarded but now bulging outward under the pressure. His asshole dilated slowly, the coarse hairs around it matting with sweat and mucus as the thick head crowned, stretching the rim to its limits with a raw, burning pull that blended pain and pleasure. A signature crackling sound filled the air—the telltale rasp of a hairy man's anus giving way, like dry leaves crunching underfoot, as the long, dense log inched out, its rough, knobby surface scraping every sensitive nerve in his rectum. Inch after endless inch slithered free, the turd at least 10 inches of wrist-thick filth, coiling heavily into the bowl with a deep plop. Sven groaned louder, a throaty "ahhhh" of relief escaping as the first one ended, his hole contracting with a quiver, his cock giving a nod to the release, stiffening more with a loud bellowing fart teasing more to come.

Soon after, the second behemoth followed, his colon contracting rhythmically to propel it down. Another deep groan vibrated through him as his asshole stretched again, the hairy rim crackling audibly once more— that distinctive, raspy pop and sizzle as the turd's girth forced the hairs to part, the sound raw and primal, amplifying the erotic intensity. This one was even thicker, veined with ridges from compaction, sliding out in a slow, glorious glide that made his prostate throb, sending sparks to his pulsating cock. He sighed heavily, body shuddering as it dropped free, piling atop the first in a steaming heap, the relief building like a filthy crescendo.

By now, his dick was fully erect, throbbing insistently from the internal massage, pre-cum beading at the tip. Sven couldn't resist to wank. His hand wrapped around his cock’s long shaft, starting to stroke slow and firm, the sweat on his palm slicking the motion, his cock hungry for a release too. As he wanked, his foreskin perfectly taunt, caressed his cock head with delight. The rhythm seemed to coax his bowels further; the third turd emerged with less effort, his groans turning to breathy sighs of ecstasy as his asshole crackled again, the hairy entrance dilating wide for another long, snaking log—8 inches of dense, smooth shit this time, ejaculating out in response to the building pleasure. The fourth followed suit, his strokes picking up speed, hand flying over his veiny cock as the turd crackled free from his hairy hole, the sound louder now, like popcorn in slow motion, his gaping asshole making his balls tighten.

He kept pumping, lost in the haze, and the fifth turd roared out with gleaming satisfaction—his wanking intensifying the peristalsis, making his shit ejaculate from his ass in rhythmic pulses, the crackling rasp echoing in the bowl as his now filthy asshole worked overtime, flaring and contracting around the girth. Sweat dripped down his crack, mixing with the musky residue, heightening every sensation. His asshole kept puckering, as the last of his shit was working its way down. He let out a long whistling fart that transformed into a louder more unapologetic roar, before finally, the sixth and last—a massive finale, at least 12 inches of tapering filth—crackled out boldly with a prolonged, satisfying groan from Sven, his body trembling as it slithered into the overloaded bowl. Just after the last one exited, leaving his rectum blissfully empty and his hairy asshole tingling and loose. Fuck, I love the shit shivers he thought to himself. He reached his free hand back, plunging two fingers into the dirty, smeared warmth, the tight ring sucking them in greedily as he fingered deep, probing the sensitive walls while his other hand wanked furiously.

The bowl was a beautiful and filthy masterpiece now— six long turds heaped in a tangled, steaming pile, their combined length easily over four feet if straightened, thick and ridged, filling the water to the brim with manly essence. The sight cranked his arousal to eleven; he fingered harder, scissoring his dirty hole while his mind flashed back to that legendary blumpkin in the gym toilets.

He pictured Jake, his buff buddy with the perfect bubble ass—round, firm, and begging to be wrecked. That time in the stalls, Jake had been mid-shit, dropping a massive load, his beautiful asshole winking and stretching as the turd emerged, the sight so raw it made Sven's cock leak. Sven then took to his throne to add to Jake’s masterpiece, shitting an equally, if not larger turd on top of Jake’s load. Jake had sucked him off right there, lips wrapped around Sven's dick while grunting through his dump—a blumpkin masterpiece, hot breath and moans vibrating Sven's shaft. His mind then shifted to another time while the two were out camping together. Jake had just taken a hot shit in front of Sven. After Jake's ass was emptied but still dirty, he walked over to the tent, still naked, looking for toilet paper. Sven had flipped him over and fucked that filthy hole raw, pounding deep into the smeared warmth while Dallas, their other hung friend, rimmed Sven's raunchy ass, tongue diving in like a pro. The memory made Sven finger-fuck himself harder, digits now coated in residue, while he wanked with abandon—the holy trinity peaking as cum exploded in thick, ropey blasts, splattering his thigh, the floor, and the wall in hot, sticky wads. He roared through the orgasm—body convulsing, hole clenching around his fingers, waves of filthy ecstasy ripping him apart.

Panting like a beast, he took a moment to admire his manly mess. This was by far his favourite quiet joy. He then wiped the cum first—thick globs off his leg, the floor puddles, the wall streak—before a single rough wipe on his ass, the paper coming away loaded with skidmarks. He flushed, but the toilet gurgled and backed up, that massive pile of turds clogging it like a stubborn fuck. He chuckled breathlessly, grabbing his poop knife from the cabinet—a sturdy blade for just this shit. He dissected the logs methodically, slicing through the dense masses, chunks plopping back in as the earthy smell intensified. Second flush swirled but failed; third time, with a triumphant suck, it all vanished, leaving behind thick, manly skidmarks streaking the bowl—dark brown smears like battle scars, proud remnants of his virile dump.

That's when Jake burst in—his equally jacked buddy, 6'2" of muscle and a fat cock—grinning wickedly. Jake stripped naked without hesitation, his toned abs flexing, dick swinging free and said, man I have a big shit brewing that I need to download. Before taking to the throne, Jake noticed the manly aroma and saw the heavy skidmarks in the bowl. Bro, I can see you had an epic shit? Jesus I wish I got to see your shit. Ah yeah, sorry man, I was out on a hike this morning and was desperate to get back for this one, I didn’t have time to spare, I stripped on the way to the shitter and just made it. You should’ve seen my shit bro, wish I had my phone close by. Awesome buddy! And by the looks of it (Jake who had just sat on the throne, had dipped his index finger into a spot of come on the toilet seat, Sven had missed)… you had a great wank too? Fuck yeah bro, I came like a stud, it was fucking intense! Cum all over the floor, my thighs and the wall. To that, Jake gave Sven a bantering slap on his ass and said, there’s my brother! We are such shitting and wanking champs! I got a load to shit too and going to enjoy a wank while you shower.

Sven stepped into the shower, hot water pounding his sweat-slicked body, rinsing the musk away in steamy bliss. Sven, soaping up, eyed Jake hungrily through the glass. They bantered filthy—the joys of massive dumps, the stretch, the relief turning to horniness—Sven describing his epic six-turd shit and the fantastic wank, fingers in his dirty ass, which got Jake rock-hard mid-push. Sven was so turned on again, he was getting hard too. Jake bore down, grunting as a thick log crackled out of his perfect asshole, stroking his dick for the show, moans mixing with the plops. The sight got Sven throbbing with lust under the spray; he embraced his soapy shaft for a second wank, pumping fast as water cascaded over him. Jake's orgasm hit first, cum shooting onto his abs as his turd finished, Sven following with a guttural moan, seed swirling down the drain. Steam-filled and bonded, they laughed it off, two studs revelling in their raw, unapologetic manhood.