Of Toffee Bites and Copperheads

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Hello. This is my first story on here so I hope you like it. I’m fairly proud of it, got off on it myself twice, actually. So, I’m really hoping for some feedback about it. I love hearing what you guys have to say. But, please no hate or spam. I’m going to correctly label this story below so if you aren’t into the themes listed, please kindly find something else to beat your meat to. Thanks!

Warning! Contains high scat (pissing, farting, shitting) content along with interracial lesbianism and hints at incest.

I tapped my freshly French-manicured fingernails against the cold, smooth surface of the table I was seated at in my favorite ’50s-style diner, Chef Colleen’s, as I anxiously awaited the girl I’d been chatting very intimately with for the past two months.

Well, chatting was putting it lightly, I guess. The more correct term would most likely be ‘sexting’, though I never thought I’d ever bring myself down to the level of those slum people who photographed themselves nude in their dank, dirty bathrooms and sent it to someone who could do whatever they very well wanted with it. I had always stuck up my nose at such behavior, deeming it perverted and desperate. But, I guess nothing is ever fully set in stone.

I sipped on my latte to calm my nerves as I ran all of the lewd images and words this woman and I had so carelessly shared with each other through my mind for the fiftieth time that day. I wondered if she had been like me before we met. I wondered if she hadn’t been an uptight prude, constantly looking down on people and judging them harshly, my distaste blazoned caustically in my cold green eyes.

But, I doubted that.

Her easygoing, completely non-hostile nature had surely caught me off guard. The amoral sharks who swarmed through my office, always itching to smell fresh blood first, were the people I could deal with. I was sharp-minded, always quick with a cocky comeback and an infuriating, ingratiating smile. Purely friendly people never stuck around me long enough for me to even begin to understand how their minds worked. Having no ulterior motive was an alien concept to me. At least, until Climaco No.

Being half Korean, a quarter Columbian, a half-quarter Iroquois, and another half-quarter African, she most definitely owned me, a half Jewish, half Italian girl, in the exotic ethnicities department. Though with my pronounced, straight, aristocratic nose and soft, thick, wildly curly copper locks framing my diamond-shaped, olive-hued face, I knew I wasn’t looking half bad myself.

She was supposed to be there between two and two thirty, and it was quickly approaching the latter. I had always been a stickler for punctuality, but, I felt like I could spare her my late lecture due to my damp underarms and inability to stop thinking insane, self-conscious things like, I don’t know, that everyone in the diner knew about the things I had confessed to this total stranger. I still couldn’t fully believe how much I’d revealed about myself in such a short time. She was just so damn easy to talk to, so non-judgemental. I felt like I didn’t have to be the blood-thirsty shark I usually was when I spoke to her.

Pulling my iPhone from my dark green leather purse, I typed in my pass code and clicked on my photos app, flicking through them until I finally found my favorite photo of her that she sent me right after she’d come out of the shower, completely nude, grinning cockily into the camera, her dripping wet caramel toffee flesh encasing full, voluptuous curves, her soaked sombrous mop of curls cascading down her sizable breasts like a midnight waterfall, her intense silver eyes glinting devilishly as she looked straight at me, daring me to take her yet not allowing me to. After all, I couldn’t very well ravage a photograph.

Strangely enough, this photo, my favorite, was by far not nearly the dirtiest one she’d sent me. I think the sexiest thing about it was the utter defiance in her stance and gaze. She seemed to be willfully, stubbornly insubordinate, violating mores and folkways alike as she saw fit. This usually irked me in others, but, for some reason, these shameless traits she possessed only turned me on more.

My eyes constantly flicked back and forth between the door and my iPhone, my thoughts flicking contradictorily between itching for her to arrive and almost hoping she’d blow me off after realizing what a freak I was.

Just as I lifted my wide eyes from my device once more to see that it was two thirty nine, thinking maybe I should leave before I was officially blown off, I saw a flash of dark blonde hair and familiar toffee skin, and knew without a doubt that the beautiful young woman who had just wandered through the door was indeed Climaco, in all of her wonderful dark glory.

Our eyes met from across the room and her eyes glittered with sex as a lewd smile tugged at her dark pink lips. I tried to play it cool by half-smiling and motioning her over with my hand, but, on the inside, my heart was auto-asphyxiating and my stomach anadolu yakası escort was shrinking into the size of a peanut.

I wondered if my jitters showed through my austere front as she sauntered over, clad in only a skimpy black tank top and jean capris, her scuffed dark grey sneakers squeaking slightly as she stepped confidently across the linoleum floor. Her hair had been dyed a dark ash blonde color since I’d last seen it and she’d decided to roll it into a messy bun with several golden locks framing her handsome, baby-cheeked face.

She sat down opposite to me at our booth and I was increasingly aware of her probing, hot stare exploring my body in the flesh for the first time. I had made sure I looked my best today. I was wearing a light cotton forest green t-shirt along with my favorite pleated plaid red and black skirt, horizontally-striped black and white garter belt thigh highs, and my brand new high-heeled Gothic Lolita knee-high boots. I’d also thrown some eyeliner and lip gloss on, which was rare for me. Our mutual lack of interest in cosmetics was just one more thing Climaco and I had in common. She wasn’t even wearing any today, and she still looked radiant.

“You dyed your hair.” I blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

She chuckled. “Nice to finally meet you, too, Annie,” she said as she aimed her glittery eyes into mine.

I flushed. “Uh, right. I’m being rude.” Smiling, looking up at her. “Nice to meet you, Climaco.”

“It’s fine. It must be strange seeing me face to face. It’s awkward for me, too. Don’t be fooled.” Leaning in towards me, “Especially since we expressed our mutual love of shit not too long ago.”

I cleared my throat, thoroughly embarrassed by her frankness. It was true that we had just three weeks before found that we both very much enjoyed bathroom activities more than the usual person would, and had sent some very explicit pictures of a select few of these activities to each other in that short span. I had felt dubious when she had first told me about her coprophilic desires. I found it pretty hard to believe that such a sexy young female would legitimately enjoy such a grotesque, taboo fetish. So, at first, I denied having the same feelings. But, after half a week of prodding and promises of non-judgement (along with some convincing pictures), I gave in and told her the truth.

Now, I found I couldn’t quite meet her intense gaze after such a bold comment from her wide, soft-lipped mouth. She was nearly four years younger than me, a twenty two year old kid. How could she possibly be so comfortable in her own real hide? The rough exterior of my shark persona melted away when I was with her, leaving me with the nauseating feeling of vulnerability and nakedness when I wasn’t alone in my room, pleasuring myself furiously on my plush queen-sized bed as I received another perverted text or filthy photo from this dark young vixen.

“Annie, darling,” she cooed, sadistically, “Lift your face for me, please.”

I obeyed her, reluctantly, and felt her sweet caramel breath on my lips. Only an inch or so from my face, her eyes changed from playful to meaningful, the same probing intensity still present in those lovely, slanted silver orbs of hers.

“You’re so…” I faltered.

“I’m so what, darling?”

Crazy. Beautiful. Inebriating.

“You sure know how to make a first impression.” I breathed out a split second before she captured my lips in hers, her hot tongue shoving itself forcefully between my easy lips. I moaned and reached out my hand, pressing it hard against the back of her head, gripping her blonde ringlets so harshly that she gasped wetly into my open mouth and bit down on my lower lip, drawing blood.

I pulled away when I heard someone clear their throat obnoxiously. I was half tempted to punch their teeth in. How dare they interrupt something so perfect? No one had ever made me feel so alive in all my twenty five years of life.

Settling back in my seat, eyes glazed and face flushed, I looked at her through heart-shaped eyes.

“Let’s get-“

“Something to eat? Sounds great!” she chirped, interrupting me.

The rosy haze cleared and my disorientation faded away. She seemed completely unaffected by what had just happened, all innocent eyes and toothy smiles. I felt foolish as I dared to glance at the other patrons only to see many sets of eyes on us, hearing girls and boys alike giggling in the background. I whipped my head back around and faced the table, my cheeks blazing red.

“So, what will you have, Annie?” Climaco continued, ignoring my embarrassment, “I think I’m going to get some scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes.”

Copper eyebrows hidden under my blunt-cut bangs knitted in confusion and annoyance, I looked up to see the cutest waitress who worked at Chef Colleen’s part-time, a bright-eyed, black-haired teenager who couldn’t have been more than fourteen, smiling down at me in an especially innocuous way that made my arnavutköy escort delicates swamp. She always worked in the summer during the late hours of the morning and early afternoon. Dark little Sage, always bouncing around the place, making all the boys blush and all the men seriously reconsider their morality all from just one sweep of her long, thick pig-tailed hair.

Arousal now overtaking any negative feelings I’d been experiencing, I ordered my usual blueberry pancakes and a refill of my latte. One of the things I’d always liked about this place is that they didn’t stop serving breakfast until three pm and started serving lunch, dinner, and dessert at eleven am.

“Ok,” Sage chirped as she scribbled down my order, “I’ll be back soon with your food, girls!” Smiling, she wandered back into the kitchen, her petite, pubescent body holding my stare longer than I’d like to admit.

It was Climaco who brought me back to Earth with a clipped, “So, you like jailbait, huh?”

Slightly embarrassed again, yet grateful that she kept her voice down this time, I turned back around to face a very obviously amused blonde with a hardly hidden green glint in her silver eyes. So, this goddess was jealous of a baby, was she? How adorable.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” I replied, an aura of cool pseudo-apathy lilting my voice to it’s discretion. I was glad to finally be dominating this little game of ours.

Her eyes glossed slightly as a tiny, sneaky smile tugged at her mouth. She said not a word, only a small “hmmm” escaping from her lips. What was she planning?

We sat in a sexually tense silence until Sage came back with our food, setting our individual platters in front of us with girlish delight, completely oblivious to the heated looks my date and I were giving each other, both of us wary and anxiously waiting for the next event in the game.

Daintily slicing my pancakes into pieces with my fork and knife, I hungrily bit into the sweet carbs as I eyed the suddenly suspicious siren seated across from me. Her eyes stayed glossed and her lips stayed perfectly perched in their position, that knowing little smile gnawing at my every last nerve.

I couldn’t take much more of that look, that silent little warning. I finished my bite of syrup-slathered pancake and set my fork next to my plate, rising and excusing myself to the restroom. I had a bit of gas anyways and if she wanted to stay here rather than share gassy exchanges at my apartment, it was her loss, not mine.

I strutted into the women’s bathroom and strolled right into the handicap stall. I’ve always liked the biggest stall for some reason. Maybe I liked the space, or how important it made me feel. Who knows? All I knew at that moment was that the sharp pains in my stomach were ripping me apart from the inside out.

I hung my purse from the hanger on the door and leaned over the sink, my hands gripping either side of it as I spread my legs and ass cheeks, ready to fire out some noxious fumes from my chili ring. I could feel my shit-stained little pucker muscling out a rather large one and not long after, heaved a sigh of relief as it noisily slapped its way out of its anal prison.

Following the example of the first one, the rest were rather wet and bubbly, slapping my ass cheeks harder than my daddy had when I’d misbehaved as a child. Remembering the way my father used to spank me along with the intoxicating scent of my flatulence filling the stall (I pulled my panties down and saw that I’d left a rather sizable brown streak in the back of my knickers.) had my pussy positively pulsating with lust, my clit throbbing like a jogging fat bitch’s heart.

I was excessively wet, but, I knew I would take too long in the loo if I were to try to get off. I was never a lightweight when it came to orgasming. You had to have skilled fingers, tongue, or cock to get me to come. So, after a strong-streamed piss in the john, I returned to my seat to be greeted by a much more talkative Climaco.

As we ate the rest of our meal, we chatted about all sorts of nonsense. She told me about how excited she was about graduating from college and I told her how much I was looking forward to the sure-thing promotion I was expecting from my boss. We shared favorite sports teams, countries we’d like to travel to, almost every trivial little thing you could think of.

About half-way through our conversation, I could feel my stomach bubbling and winced a little until it passed. A small, relatively unnoticeable fart escaped from me as I lifted my ass up to release it. Looking back on it now, I realize that I should’ve seen this as a warning to leave the diner right then and there and race back home. I can now recall the devilish glint in Climaco’s eyes when she heard my stomach acting up. That fucking foreign bitch. Such a sadist.

We were just finishing up our meals when my stomach began gurgling so audibly that a few heads closest to us turned to look at me in mild disgust. I laid ataköy escort a hand on my noisy stomach and blushed bright red as a wayward fart escaped from my asshole and suddenly realized as I looked up into Climaco’s stormy, glossy grey eyes what I was about to endure.

A slew of rancid, sloppy farts slopped out of me like I was a total hog and this was met with angry insults and utterly repulsed glares from almost everyone in the diner. I groaned in pain as the gas seeped out of me, seeming to have a mind of its own, as raunchy and eye-watering as it could muster.

Climaco grinned at me coldly as I stood and spread my pale, freckled legs, accepting what was about to happen. My forehead and underarms were slicked with sweat and I was sure my entire body was so red that you couldn’t see a single freckle on my body.

As quickly as icing squeezing out of its tube, my panties were soon consumed by soft, foul-smelling shit, sliding easily from the back of my knickers to the front, filling each fold of my cunt with its gooey goodness, sneaking past the elastic and slipping down my long legs in dark maroon masses, staining and ultimately ruining every article of clothing worn on my lower body.

People gasped in pure revulsion and most fled from the diner like they’d been gassed out by the Germans, hastily grabbing their things and leaving in a horrified huff.

The river of excrement seemed to never end, filling my boots to the damn near top with human waste. Climaco sat stationary and sadistic the entire time. I’d never been more humiliated in my life. I felt like I couldn’t move. I wished desperately to black-out so that I wouldn’t have to remember any of this. I stood shuddering and close to tears, completely mortified and afraid to turn around to see if anyone was still there.

Then I noticed Climaco’s arm moving rather rapidly as well as another fecal odor slightly different from mine making its way to my nostrils. Looking closer, I noticed a dark pile pressing against the seat of her jeans and her fingers deep down the front of them. They were completely unzipped so I could see her brown digits, covered in even darker shit, playing with her engorged clit, smearing it and rubbing it all over the little pink gem between her legs. She wasn’t even wearing underwear.

As soon as I ceased shitting, she started. She stood and revealed the ever-growing, tightly-contained fecal mass growing out from her already full ass. She looked me right in the eyes as she, out in public like this, masturbated with her own waste in a very brightly-lit diner in the middle of the day.

I suddenly couldn’t control myself and reached one bony hand into my panties, lifting up my skirt and delving into the muddy dungeon that was my knickers, feverishly rubbing the delectable mud against my own erect clit, my wetness intermixing with the hot mess in my drawers.

I couldn’t believe she was such a pervert, putting laxatives into both of our meals, humiliating herself just as much as me. My affection for this young woman grew to an even more intimate level with every passing moment knowing her. She was so confident, so shameless. Why couldn’t I be more like her? Why did I always have to hide?

In a moment of blind passion, I shoved off my boots and socks and panties and lifted my skirt up high, in front and in back, as I released yet another slew of shit from my stretched-out asshole. From waist to toe, I was covered in my own shit, standing nearly nude in front if a girl I barely knew yet maybe loved and any stranger unfortunate enough to pass by. And I’d never felt more alive. My skin felt ice-cold and hellfire-hot at the same time and as I breathed in the odor of our entangled lust and perversion, I felt like a schoolgirl again, rebellious and intense and in love.

Climaco, pushed forward by my boldness, stripped from her jeans and squatted over the discarded article, pinching loaf after gorgeous loaf upon the already soiled trousers. Overcome with lust, I ripped my skirt in two and my shirt soon followed before I lowered myself on top of Climaco and shoved her to the ground, roughly ripping her shirt off and shoving my soiled pussy against hers, twisting at her nipples and groping her large breasts while gyrating on top of her. Her eyes, cold and hard and warm and soft, enveloped me in her love as she reached up and wiped my lips with her shit-coated fingers. I closed my eyes and sighed shakily, savoring the faint taste of her shit and cunt on my lips, humping against her a bit faster.

A stream of hot urine surged from me and straight into her cunt. I moved slightly away from her and carefully aimed my piss into that invitingly dark pink canal and I could hear her shudder as a stream of piss, just as golden as mine, came sputtering out of her and right unto my breasts, my pink-brown nipples hardening as the acidic fluid graced them with its sweet presence.

I hunched down carefully so as to keep my stream fucking into her cunt while also catching her’s in my mouth and on my face and hair. I drank her piss, so sapid as it flowed along my tongue and down my throat, as if I was dying of thirst and her golden river was my oasis. I lapped at it like a whore and almost forgot all about her until I noticed her violently fingering at her clit, my pisscock about to send her over the edge.

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