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Gay Scat Stories

Gay Scat Stories

Posted by on in Gay Scat Stories

 

I was hitching a ride up to the lake and I'd had my thumb out for 45 minutes. What the fuck was the matter? It's not as if I look like an ax murderer. I usually get picked up within 5 minutes. There was plenty of traffic too. The sweat was dripping off me in sheets, standing on the baking asphalt out in the full sun. I was glad I'd put on the sun block before leaving the house or I'd be burnt red by now. I only had some cutoffs and a tank top on. Some great idea this turned out to be, I muttered to myself as the 50th car whizzed by me. No classes for me today at the community college, it was 90 degrees and humid as hell, what better thing to do than go up to the lake and swim all afternoon? I figured on a week day it would be quiet and I'd have my favorite diving rock and swimming hole all to myself. No screaming little kids and their parents to get on my nerves.

Finally! I heard the gears downshift on the VW Bug that had just gone by and looked over my shoulder. Yep, they were stopping. About tucking time. I grabbed my knapsack and ran up the roadside. There were three guys inside and the one in the front passenger seat stepped out so I could get in the back.

"Hey, how's it going?" he said, flashing me a big smile. He looked about the same age as me, early twenties.

"Pretty good, now that you guys stopped. I thought I was never going to get a ride." I plopped myself into the cramped back seat, the back of the front seat flopped back and whacked my knees. I spread my legs as best I could.

"Hi, I'm Peter," the guy next to me said, offering his hand.

"Dan." We shook hands as the VW pulled back out into traffic. I felt Peter's leg against my leg. We were practically on top of each other in the small space.

"You guys Ok back there?" the driver asked. "That back seat wasn't made for people over 5 feet tall, you know. I'm Russ, by the way, and this is Andy." I mumbled Hi and my name again and Andy swiveled around to face the back.

"You look like you're going to the same place we are, up to the lake?" Andy asked. I nodded. Peter was lighting up a joint. "Yeah, its too fucking hot to do much of anything else today." The joint was passed to me and I took a hit, then passed it to Andy. He spoke while exhaling the herb smoke, "How long you been waiting there for a ride?"

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Posted by on in Gay Scat Stories

 

My father was a plumber, so after years of searching for an appropriate way to occupy my time, it seemed only right for a toilet pig in his mid-twenties to spend a year as a plumber's apprentice. Being a good Italian boy from Brooklyn, with a heavy borough accent, it made it easy to fit in with the other guys at the training classes, then to get a job with a local Italian man in my neighborhood in Jackson Heights -- the kind of guy who would only hire another young Italian stud to follow in his footsteps. Imagine what this 50 year old wop Daddy would have thought if he'd known I spent half of my "internship" staring at the top of his hairy butt crack as it hung out of his pants rather than concentrating on my fitting and welding!

My training and apprenticeship went by quickly enough, and at twenty-eight I decided to set out in business on my own as a fully-licensed plumber. Of course, I had decided to specialize in bathroom plumbing and spent an unrequired number of hours in setting myself up with the appropriate uniforms, ads, "display room", "tools" and van.

My van was a brown Ford (of course), with a big white logo of an open-seated toilet captioned by the words, "Tony's Toilet Service" emblazoned across the side. Naturally I featured my phone number in large block letters, and the slogan "No Job Too Dirty" in italicized type beneath the bowl! My uniform was a pair of brown overalls, with my name stitched in red on one pocket and the van logo repeated on the back, but with a new copy line, "a clean bowl is my goal."

I used my union advantages as a toilet and sewer specialist to sign up for a number of trade magazines which would tantalize the most creative pigs, and created a "showroom" in the basement of a small warehouse storage/office space I took in Long Island City, consisting of various unplumbed johns, antique bathtubs, urinals and even a small model septic tank, giving each its own environment, ranging from gleaming white tile to an abandoned shack motif.

My two uniforms just aged gracefully, never getting washed and becoming stiff and stinking with months and months of aged grime and stains from my dripping crotch and an old brown and yellow rag sewn on the back right hand pocket.

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Posted by on in Gay Scat Stories

 

Gamal worked the counter at Jo-Jo's, a stand-up, pizza-by-the slice joint on Father Demo Square here in the Village. I'd go there for a slice hoping to see the young man. He wasn't "goodlooking" but he was sexy. Dark with thick wiry black hair, the young Iraqi was stocky but sturdy. Gamal's right eye was somewhat turned giving him a dumb, slightly crazy look that turned me on. Like a lot of countermen his uniform was white shirt, white pants. I guess management was trying to promote the idea that theirs was a sanitary establishment. The tomato sauce splotches and the sweat stains on the young man's pants kind of defeated that idea. Gamal wore no shorts and his meaty rump was achingly evident through the thin fabric. When he turned his back I would stare at that backside pregnantly filling the seat of those thin white pants. I love pizza but what made my mouth water was the idea of getting my hands on that ample, manly young ass, spreading those delicious mounds and getting my face and mouth all over them and in them. Think of a starving man licking the pudding off the inside of a pot.

I never looked away when he would turn back toward me. It didn't bother me that he would know what I was thinking. Somehow, I didn't think he would mind. When he started giving me a second slice for free, I knew he didn't mind.

One quiet Tuesday afternoon while I tore at a slice, Gamal stood on the customer side of the counter with his foot on a chair looking out the window, pensively.

"You look sad," I said.

"I don't think I will work here much longer," he said, scratching the crack of his ass with his thumb. My mouth must have fallen open. "Excuse me," Gamal said, "I forget myself."

"I don't mind at all, Gamal," I said. "It's so warm in here. You get sweaty. A man has to scratch."

"Khalil, he is the boss. He is a shit," he said.

In places like that, the boss usually is.

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Posted by on in Gay Scat Stories

 

My doctor's name is Jeff Penteck, and I've been seeing him for about 3 or 4 years. The doctor I had before that retired, which is when I was told about Dr. Penteck by a friend.

Dr. Penteck struck me as a bit of an odd character right from the first time I met him, but I couldn't put my finger on the reason why. He came across as somewhat shy - almost like he found it hard to look me directly in the eye. He's probably in his mid-thirties, and is a fairly average-looking man - not striking in any way, except for his voice, which is soft and almost erotic. Over the years, his manner hasn't changed at all, but I've grown used to it, and comfortable with him as my doctor.

Six or seven months after I had first met him, I told Dr. Penteck that I'm gay. It's one of those things that a sexually active gay man should inform a doctor about - especially since regular HIV tests are important even when practicing safe sex. I've largely had good responses by the people in my life who I've come out to, but still, I watched him closely for what kind of reaction he would give me. I wanted to get a sense about whether or not he was gay-positive, because if not, I would probably have started looking for a different doctor. But he really gave no reaction at all - he just made a note on my file. He is a very difficult person to read, but I definitely did not get any negative vibes from his reaction, so I assumed that my sexual orientation was not an issue for him.

Like I said, I've been seeing him for years now - every six months or so for one reason or another. A few months ago, his office called me and asked me to come in for an appointment. This had never happened before, and it made me pretty nervous. Why would a doctor request an appointment with me if nothing was wrong? I tried to think back on my previous appointment 3 months before. It had been for a complete physical, including an HIV test, but surely that could not be the reason I'd been called in. If there had been a problem with the test, I would have been called back much earlier. Still, I was nervous - what if....?

I am a 25 year old male, fit but not terribly muscular. I run every day but I don't otherwise work out. I'm sexually active but don't have a steady partner - when I feel the need, I often will pick up men at the bar for a night. I'm good looking enough that I can usually get fairly sexy partners, and I enjoy physical, sweaty sex. I always play safe because I have every intention of living a long, healthy life. I've had longer term partners a few times in my life - usually no longer than 6 months or so. I'm not certain that I'm good relationship material, although it's quite possible that I may just not have met the right guy up to now. Anyway, based on my lifestyle - regular exercise, eating well, and safe sex (albeit with various partners) - I'm hopeful that I don't put myself at too much risk of any sort of health problem.

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I hated going into midtown Manhattan during the August heatwave, but every now and then it was unavoidable.

Just to keep cool (and in hopes that things would get HOT), I put on as brief an outfit as possible -- that meant, how little could I wear and not get thrown out of line at the bank!

I decided to go for a construction crew look: scarred workboots; dirty knee socks covering my hairy, muscular calves; paper thin grey gym shorts over a stinking, hole-filled jockstrap; and a skintight t-shirt with sweat stains down the front and back and ripped-out armpits, which magnified my massive shoulders and arms while showing off my pumped pecs and swollen cone tit-nipples to their best advantage.

The shorts, too, showed off my assets. While walking, the back straps of my jock could be seen clearly, since the shorts didn't cover much of my fur-coated melon butt cheeks. In front, the jock caused a hefty bulge of my pumped, swollen, uncut Italian meat -- particularly when I sat down. Unable to close my legs, the foul filled pouch of scummy stained cotton hung rudely out to one side of the leg openings in the gym shorts.

Reflective sunglasses insured my privacy, while a backpack handled my paperwork, a couple of good-sized plugs (not counting the fist-sized plug worked up my limber cunthole), titclamps and poppers.

The errands were over swiftly, with minimal stares from the stupid bitches at the bank. Actually, I enjoyed the looks I got on Park Avenue from both men and women, shocked yet titillated by my humpy, muscular body so obscenely displayed -- of course, most New Yorkers are use to construction workers showing off their bodies in the summer heat, and to many of the business class on Park Avenue that hot August lunchtime I was just one more slab of illiterate beefcake -- great to cruise from 15 feet, but far too much up close, where my several days of sweat could be smelled above the city's rank garbage odors.

I perched on a sidewall just off Park in the 50's to smoke a joint, something, fortunately, the New York police department could care less about. Everyone deserved to get high if they were going to deal with this town in the summer swelter.

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Posted by on in Gay Scat Stories

 

Chapter 1

Maya and I had married just two weeks ago, and I was deliriously happy. Maya is beautiful, 5' tall with a stunning 38-29-38 figure. I am 6' tall, and around 180 pounds. Both our families thought it rather a strange match, Maya being dominant and flirty and me being shy, possessive and jealous. I didn't care though; I loved her more than anything and could not bear to be without her.

On our return, we went straight back to work. The two of us worked together in a small company owned by Mrs. Singh, and had an office where just the two of us worked. I felt a little annoyed when I was told that we would have to share it with Mrs. Singh's 21-year-old nephew Sanjay, who was to be training with us as part of his development in the company.

Sanjay is 6'6" tall, extremely muscular and fit, and very handsome. He is also conceited and arrogant. I found immediately that he had no intention of taking instructions from me, and showed little interest in working. When he went to lunch on the first day, I mentioned this to Maya.

"Yes, but he is gorgeous!" she replied. "I think it is going to be great to have him around." It was then I had my first pang of jealousy, and feeling of foreboding.

I turned out to be right; it was not long before he started openly flirting with my wife and belittling me.

"What made you marry an ugly wimp like him," he asked her. "Does he have a big cock?"

"Hardly," laughed Maya hurtfully. "They must come much bigger than what he has, I can hardly feel it!" I could not believe my ears at her cruel words.

"I have a huge one," continued Sanjay. "I will show it to you soon!"

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The kid at the checkout counter bagging the groceries was giving me a big smile and I smiled back. I had not seem him there before, I would have remembered this one. He had short, dark brown hair and light brown eyes, a bit shorter than I am at 6 feet. As he was helping me out to my car with the bags his well developed ass was twitching in front of me. He put the bags in the trunk and flashed me another big smile. I couldn't resist.

"Are you by any chance over 18 yet?", I ask, fully expecting him to say no.

"Yeah," he answered, "I graduated from high school last month. I turned 18 last February. Why?"

"Then how about I give you my number and you can call me sometime when you're feeling homey?", I flipped back to him, steeling myself for a nasty 'I ain't no fag' comeback.

"Cool," was all he said. Sometimes I think I'm getting too paranoid as I get older. I know when I was his age, I jumped at such offers. Especially in this podunk town.

I gave him my phone number and he said his name was Sean, and that he'd call real soon. I thought, yeah right, probably a fucking tease looking for a tip. Jeez I've gotten cynical. But I know I must be pretty obvious around this town with my earring, leather jacket, boots, and brown hanky. And I was sure to flash him my huge ringed tits out the sides of my tank top when we were talking. So the kid should have a clue I'm not interested in some quick milk toast romp. He must have seen my dick bulging down my jeans leg dripping precum through the material too. I'm not real subtle. I'm in my late thirties, blond, blue eyes, and a killer body. I used to hustle for years and love really nasty sex. Recently, I've been developing a taste for kids. I never cared much for them before, but you find one that wants to be corrupted and shown the ways of pure filth, and I tell you, its a fucking turn on.

Sean called later that afternoon to tell me he was off work and had a hard on thinking about me. I told him I was pretty wild in what I liked to do and he thought it sounded interesting. I'd show him interesting. I gave him the address and he was there in 15 minutes.

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Posted by on in Gay Scat Stories

 

I had been kept so occupied I nearly forgot all about Toad. Where had he disappeared to while I had been involved in so much raunchy action? It was too bad that I would soon be leaving without being able to thank the man who made this amazing day possible. Experiencing his surgically altered dick had made me aware of a whole other perverted world for me to discover. Despite all the action I had had today, I longed to feel Toad's wart covered dick in my mouth again. Amazing that latex inserts could look so natural.

Bear man was standing to my side trying to lick the remaining cum from the piss filled glass he had fed me. His thick beard dripped with cum and I tried to imagine how fucking hairy his ass crack must be. I decided to ask him where Toad had gone.

"Don't you know?" he said with surprise. "How do you suppose he can afford to own this place? I know you might think this is a fucking dump, but it requires a lot of work to keep it up. The rooms with the holes in the ceiling, the glory holes, the shit equipment that you haven't even seen yet... He financed the whole operation himself. Attendants, like the shit covered punk you just met, need to be specially trained to clean the place without destroying the look, feel and smell."

"I guess I didn't realize what it took to build and maintain a place like this," I said. "What does he do to keep this place up?"

Bear man grinned. His hands reached down to pull down his zipper. He undid the top button and his stiff dick poked out. I couldn't believe me eyes. Here was one of the cocks that I had seen in a picture at Toad's place. Bear man's penis shaft was completely covered with hair. Even the cock head was completely hairy--a narrow band of skin surrounded his piss slit.

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Montana is one of those places where the sky is so big and blue, the vistas so broad and expansive, that you feel like you're as far away from it all as it is possible to be in this day and age. I've always liked Montana. I feel like I'm in another world whenever I'm there. I visit there every year for two weeks just to get my head clear. On my last trip, I was truly in another world. Here is the story.

I had just left Missoula that Saturday morning on my way to Anaconda to visit with a friend I had made on a previous trip to the state. We were going to travel together into Utah to take in a bit of the scenery, do some hiking, and relax a bit before I had to get back to the hectic city life.

About an hour and a half out of Missoula I heard a clacking sound coming from underneath the hood of my rental car. I stopped along the side of the road to check it out. I got out of the car, turned off the motor, opened the hood, and peered inside, knowing full well that I was not only piss poor at mechanics, but even if I could spot the trouble that there was little or nothing I could do about it. Sure enough, I could see nothing that could have made the noise. I thought that starting the car again might help me find the problem, but as I turned the key in the ignition, nothing happened. I tried again...and again... and again. Nothing. Fuck! Here I am in the middle of nowhere with a broken down rental and no cell phone.

There was only one alternative. I would have to leave the car and hitch a ride into the next town for help. I sat on the back of the car, admired the scenery, and put out my thumb. After about an hour, and what seemed like a hundred passersby, I began to get discouraged. What the fuck? Why wasn't anybody stopping? Maybe people were so jaded today that they were afraid to pick up a hitchhiker. I had an idea!

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Stu, Steve, Bob and Aaron were going to take a bachelor's weekend at Stu's house in the mountains. It seemed that all four wives had something to do for business that weekend. Stu had said something to Steve, so before you know it, beer, steaks, snacks were purchased, videos rented and joke list mentally revisited. Stu and Steve drove together. Bob and Aaron arrived only a half an hour later.

Stu had a nice place. A large living room, four bedrooms with two shared baths, a screened in back porch and a small pool. It was in a small gated community where people liked to slip away for the weekends. Because of the woods, no one could see onto anybody else's property. Thus, with privacy assured, one's imagination runs wild.

The guys met in the kitchen. "Ok, house rules. I don't care what kind of a mess it gets over the weekend, but it's clean before we leave. I don't care where you piss or shit, puke or anything else. I just want it clean when we go. I have tubes of KY in various places in case the urge strikes. Remember, no holds barred, it's a fun weekend for doing all kinds of shit."

The three other guys knew the rules in advance and had no problem with them. The guys were all professionals in their mid 40's, not hunks anymore, but nice looking guys who liked to have fun. It didn't take long. You see, Steve, Bob and Aaron had spoken to each other the day before. As if on cue, they stripped bare ass naked. Stu was a little shocked, but could guess the drill and he too, took off his clothes. But what Stu didn't know was that the three other guys immediately pissed on him. Aaron jumped onto the counter and pissed on Stu's face and chest. Bob stood on a chair and wet Stu's face and hair before washing his chest and abdomen. Steve stayed on the floor and concentrated his load on Stu's dick. Needless to say, there was a huge puddle on the floor.

"Well, that's a wonderful way to start. Ok, shithead," he said to Aaron, "why don't you jump down from the counter and lie in the puddle." Aaron did. Stu leaned over him and put his dick into Aaron's mouth. Stu bent a little more and was able to take Aaron's cock to complete the sixty-nine. But Stu had a little surprise for Aaron. As Aaron started to slurp at Stu's cock, Stu pissed into his mouth. Aaron started to gag, but was able to swallow most of Stu's urine.

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The Scat General DVD
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A very feminine petite Japanese male inteviews for the video shoot. Three different guys squat over a plastic bowl, and take a shit into it. The Japanese male is presented with the bowl of shit, takes some shit out of the bowl, and smears it on his face, and upper body. He lays back, and another male comes into the picture, and takes a shit right on his face! He sucks the cock of the older male shitter. He is presented with a large rubber cock dildo, which the older male uses on his ass.

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I am a hot nasty Asian Pig. I love to drink piss and eat shit. Tell me how should i play with my filth. I love to be humiliated. Offensive and abusive language is such a turn on. I really like fucking my throat with my hard shit log till I gag... then swallow it of course. Tell me off... tell me what a nasty slave Im, tell me what else i should eat and do to my body. The nastier, the kinkier the better!