The Forbidden Zone

Surfers frequent this spot every morning before hitting the waves. There's always a line, so etiquette doesn't allow for campers.

If you're on the left, forget modesty in front of a crowd. You'll have to stand to reach the toilet paper. Regulars have seen everyone else's penis, small, medium and large.

Blowing it up? No one cares.

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.”

I am currently creating an outline for the next chapter of Max & Asher.  I will expound upon their conversation at the end of the first story:

“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.”

What a setup!

I live in one of the largest metropolitan areas in the USA, surrounded by a diverse mix of millions of people. Ringed by highways, freeways, interstates, toll roads. A business mecca. Abundant entertainment venues. A shopper's paradise.  Multiple grocery stores, minutes away, stock every food imaginable. Everything else is delivered through an app in two days, overnight, or by drone in 8 to 18 minutes.

"The City" is great, but sometimes I want solitude. Anonymity. Privacy. In the woods. Near a lake. With a dock. And a comfortable chair.

The cabin is modest. It's furnished with the comforts of home. There is cell service and Wi-Fi. Motion sensors and multiple cameras, inside and out, provide security, protection and peace of mind.

"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

I like discovering a rough picture in the dark, deep recesses of the Internet, then manipulating it so it becomes a space I'd like to find myself inhabiting.

There's so much to like here, the industrial motif, the single light bulb. The triple urinals, old-school style. Who needs partitions and auto-flush?

If you choose the toilet on the right, and you're right-handed, you can lift and wipe for your mate with all the flourish and drama you can muster.

If the left one is your pick, you'll have a ringside seat for those doing #1.

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 straightlaced 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.”