Date: Sun, 15 Jan 2023 14:02:33 +0000
From: Brownluster7 <Brownluster7@protonmail.com>
Subject: Roughneck (scat)

				 Roughneck

			      by Brownluster

	I have travelled many places in the world, but I was drawn back to
the USA time and time again. I had friends in North Carolina in a very
rural part of the State, with sparse farms and homes strung out along the
country roads, often in the depths of the pine forests and streams that
populate that region. So it was on a visit recently I had a strange, but
most dirty, life changing experience.

	The friends I have, also have a close friend of theirs who repairs
furniture. I have always enjoyed the times they took me to visit him as I
am overwhelmed by the skill he has in restoring bashed up old pieces,
sometimes over one hundred years old. Recently, his wife got religion and
declared that as he did not believe in what she did, he was going to
hell. Nice lady! Anyway, it is leading to divorce and he is not feeling so
great. We visited this last trip and he seemed grateful to talk with me. I
am like that: what you see is what you get, and sometimes I can help people
by not saying a word but allowing them to go through their problems by just
talking to a willing listener. He had a roughneck friend visiting at the
same time. This guy was about my height but a good ten years younger than
me. He was quite rough in his clothing too but I put that down to his
probably being in farming where nice clothes are a definite no no. He
hardly spoke but held me is his gaze a lot more than normal. Okay, I am an
adonis. Laugh, that one! I am a very ordinary guy in his early sixties who
shaves his head to get rid of the sight of the greying hair. Actually I
shave or cream off every bit of body hair I can. Perhaps it is a fetish,
but I find myself feeling liberated every time the hair is removed to
reveal the smooth skin beneath. Only problem is that the hair never takes
the hint, and comes back. Oh for the riches to have it all removed
permanently ! I do not have a big throbbing cock. Mine is small, but swells
to a decent size when handled properly and certainly enough to give a
satisfying fuck. Personally, cocks are not that important to me. Arses are
much more my focus of attention but more of that later.

	So, when I had an invite to visit the furniture man alone over
night, I naturally assumed it was so he could drink and spill out his
troubles and feel a lot better for it. I did not mind. I am a good soul
that way. So my friends dropped me off at his place where he repairs
furniture and he greeted me with a smile at the door. "Come in," he said
and immediately settled me in an armchair in the lounge whilst he scuttled
off to get two beers. We chatted and drank the beer but I began to feel he
was uneasy about something. When one silence had become a bit over long,
and his talk had been punctuated by a few nervous errs, I asked if he was
okay. "Well, Seb, " ( that's my name: Sebastiane really but I hate the full
name being used ). "I have to own up to something. I have got you over here
because my buddy Nick, who you met the other day, would like to get to know
you. Says you and he may have something in common and perhaps you'd like to
stay over at his place." He explained that my friends did not approve of
Nick because of his dirty ways and dress. I was intrigued. This was why
Nick had asked him to arrange things as a middle man. Fortunately I am
quite a laid back type of guy and the fact this guy, who did not know me at
all, thought we had things in common, made me wonder rather than get angry
at being duped. "You don't have to go if you don't want. And if you feel a
problem coming on just call me and I'll pick you up straight away." This
was important because I do not drive but somehow, I expected no problems at
all.

	The Furniture Guy drove me over to Nick's place after we finished
our beers. Nick had a cabin ( mind you it was anything but a rustic one
room affair ) along a long track deep into the woods. You could easily
stage a horror film in such a location where it is so isolated. Furniture
Guy let me out and waited till he saw the cabin door open, and then drove
away. I was left in the hands of a guy I did not know, who wanted I know
not what !

	The vision which greeted me at the door was bizarre to say the
least. Admitted, it was a really hot day, and the humidity was off the
scale, but here Nick was, dressed in just vest and underpants and long
socks of thick brown wool. His vest, cut off at the shoulder, was stained
with sweat marks and obviously had not been washed in months. His
underwear, Y fronts, once may have been pure white but now the front was
stained yellow from piss and precum leaking from his cock. Was I shocked?
Fuck, no. I grinned and he returned my grin and walked ahead of me into his
home. I followed, noting the tram lines which figured distinctly on the
back of his pants. He led the way into a den; a room totally cluttered with
'stuff' so that there was hardly any room for the leather two man sofa,
side tables and mini fridge. On one wall was a giant screen TV with much in
the way of electronics underneath. I knew some of the gear but not all. It
was even hotter in the den.

	Nick suggested, whilst getting two beers from the mini fridge, I
would be more comfortable with less on. I normally do not wear underwear
and playfully suggested he might provide me with some of his gear ( we were
about the same build ) thinking I might just have to strip off
altogether. Yet he took me at my word and disappeared off to another room
returning with an equally stained set of vest and pants. Did he ever do
laundry ?? He also brought an identical pair of long brown woollen
socks. "Humour me Seb. Put these on too." I turned away and stripped off my
shorts, teeshirt, socks and trainers and donned the stuff he proffered. He
obviously could ogle my backside but he could wait for anything else. The
feel of another guy's underwear is a sensuous act when you pull the
garments over your own skin. The vest felt smooth to the touch but smelled
of Nick's dried sweat. His underpants slipped easily over my cock and balls
and I felt a slight dampness against my skin which told me he had soiled
them not too long ago. The smell was of old piss and shit and a very
attractive aroma to me. The long socks were a little itchy, being wool, as
they clamped on my thighs and legs and I wondered why caramel brown. Quite
an unusual colour for socks. I guessed but I am not one to assume; too many
mistakes made doing that in the past.

	Nick seemed pleased when I turned back now rigged out in his soiled
clothing. He indicated the sofa and we both sat next to each other and
drank the bottled beer. After four beers each, he replenished the mini
fridge and started talking more. "You're game to wear my stuff Seb. Its
like looking at my twin." In fact we looked alike when dressed the same. We
both favoured a cleanly shaven face. I noted his arms and legs were, like
mine, either naturally smooth or shaved/creamed smooth. I had not noticed
until I donned his vest that both his and mine had nip holes cut in them
showing off our dark brown nipples. It was quite a turn on. I favoured a
skinhead look; my head wet shaved to a shiny smoothness, whereas he had a
mohican, the rest of his scalp equally smooth as mine. I was attracted and
could feel my cock swell and thicken and bulging in my underpants. I noted
his must be doing the same although a thick bulge ran upwards in his pants
and his mushroom must have been beginning to pop from beneath the pant's
band as even his vest was bulging at that point now. And yet we just
talked.

	We went through our histories. Mine was relatively simple. Born and
bred in England, I had married a guy but, our sexual desires changing over
time, we had agreed on an open relationship. His was more colourful. Father
died when he was eight years old and his mother, possibly from never ending
grief and increasing poverty, committed suicide when Nick was eighteen,
leaving him and five siblings without a home. The wider family tried to
help and Nick had been farmed out to a single uncle, a younger brother to
his Mum. The uncle had taught him a lot about how to accept his own body
and desires whatever society had thought. A dutiful gay uncle for a change
it seems. What else his uncle taught Nick did not say, but there was the
suggestion that some lessons were practical. So Nick had emerged into full
adulthood totally in touch with his own desires and exploring his. His
uncle was gay and had many friends into extreme kinks so Nick had many
teachers so as not to make mistakes. Nick's uncle passed away and it was
not until then that Nick found out how rich he was and that he had left it
all to Nick as his sort of adopted son. Nick, therefore, did not have to
work for the rest of his life and could indulge himself in anything he
liked.

	We were quite at ease now what with the beer and the openness. Nick
asked, with a slight raise of his eyebrow, if I were a member of any online
gay sites. Of course I was but how far should I open up about my more
perverted desires? I told him about several gay video sites, one of which
tended more towards the shit side of sex but I did not actually say
that. However he knew the site and said straight away, "There's some great
dirty vids on that site." What could I say; I agreed and remarked that he
must like that area himself. "Oh Yea my friend, I like things dirty and
wet, with olive oil covered bods. I have seen your face on one site you
know." He left the remark hanging. "Oh yeah? On what site?" "On Scatboi
Seb. I loved the pic of the lumpy hard turd in your mouth." Okay, I was a
bit gobsmacked. I had been a member of Scatboi a number of years and
although some members had shown a kind interest, I had not exactly been
inundated with offers of sessions in my time. That I had missed his viewing
stumped me. "Oh" was what came out my gob and then a stammered "I don't
remember your face from any interested in me." "Well, my boi, that's
because I wear a mask in my facepics and I put my location a little aways
from here so nosey heteros, seeking a quick gay wank, won't recognise
me. However I lusted after you and could not believe my eyes when I saw you
this week." He leaned over and drank in the sweaty smell of my borrowed
vest and licked my neck which was also bathed in sweat, it being like a
furnace in the room now. I found my tongue licking his filthy neck too
while I ran my fingers through his mohican hair. Soon our mouths were glued
to each other as we drank in each other's mouth juices; our tongues pushing
this way and that into each other's throats. Nick suddenly ran his hand
under my vest and into my pants seeking my cock. It was already slimey with
precum which he coated his fingers with and sucked with his pursed
lips. Then he reached the same hand behind his body, and when it reappeared
his fingers were brown. He must have stroked his shit caked hole and
brought forth honey from the beautiful orifice. I yearned to explore his
hole but first I was treated to the contents of his fingers as he jammed
his hand into my throat. I managed to close my mouth on his hand, and, as
he slowly withdrew it, I sucked the candy from his fingers. Fuck but the
taste was everything you'd wish from a man's arse. This shit load was
smooth and loose and tasty as heck. The consistency was that of sludge,
with a slight gritty quality that gave it an edge. I took a long time to
savour its feel and taste in my mouth before swallowing. I have often
thought it would be great to have a group turd tasting. There is so much
difference between a group of men's individual shit, and even one man's
turds can vary according to what he eats. It would be like the tasting of
gourmet foods; their piss like fine wines. Just a fantasy I suppose but a
lovely thought.

	Nick had been intently watching my reaction to his shoving shit
into my mouth. He seemed satisfied I was not just a cock wanking voyeur of
shit play, but a true player with whom he could enjoy hours of being a turd
whore. He roughly ripped the vest from my body and I responded, yanking off
his as we kissed again, no longer with anything separating our flesh; our
hands exploring each other's upper bodies. I reached down his now naked,
glistening back to his pants and on down into the depths of his arse
crack. The tactile feel of his shit spread between his buns plastered my
hand instantly and I withdrew it brown covered which I rubbed first over my
face and head and then over his. All the time I tried to pass a turd into
my pants and as it eased from my hole I clenched my butt muscles to spread
its beautiful essence and smell over my crack. Smelling the unique aroma of
freshly exposed turd, Nick duplicated my action, passing his hand down my
back and into my pants. As a fisherman landing his catch, his hand came
away as brown as mine, and, after savouring the taste of two fingers worth,
he also spread the manure over his head and mine. Our shit combined in a
mud slide of sweat and turd as the heat of the room was made even more
intense by our gyrations in our desperate need for each other's filth.

	I think even at this stage, barely an hour after I stepped into
Nick's home, we would do anything, however extreme, however taboo, to each
other !

	We paused. Looking at our now soiled faces and the riverlets of
shit dripping down our torsos we needed a better place to play. Nick led
the way to a small door leading off the hall and down into the netherworld
which was his basement. A number of rooms encompassing the whole area of
the house above, this consisted not only of a boiler room but also a
toilet/shower area and a large main space. The whole floor of the large
room was treated with a thick rubber coating making it all available as a
play room. The walls were lined with shelves holding practically every toy
you could think of for sexual gratification and mutual pleasure. There were
instruments I had no idea the function of but they looked intriguing. There
was whole casks of what appeared to be olive oil, bottles of piss, a fridge
freezer which when opened contained both frozen and fresh turds. The
collection must have dated back months or did he farm ? There was a leather
sling and a rubber sheeted bed of a size to take four guys at a
time. Through the opening ( no door ) to the toilet area, the room stank of
shit and urine, its walls and floor covered in brown sludge. Heck, even the
ceiling had brown shit daubed across it ! The two toilets, side by side,
were coated inside and out with shit and only the shower tray seemed to be,
in any way, clean. "Quite a playroom Nick." I said taking it all in. "It's
our heaven, or should that be hell, [ he laughed ] for the next day till
you return to Vanilla-ville." He stood fingering his cock through his
pants. You could almost see the saliva dripping from his lips in
expectation of my arse. And, fuck, I was thinking the same.

	But I would also come to know his other taboo obsession: pain. He
walked over and grabbed my cock through my now soiled pants. Now I have
said my cock is not large but it was excelling at present in swollen
thickness and length. It could have been in a vacuum pump. Pulling down my
pants and throwing them across the room, where they stuck to the wall from
the shit spread on them, he grabbed my cock and balls again in a vice like
grip. I winced as he crushed my balls but he just grinned. Pulling me
across the room by my balls, he pushed me down on my back on the bed. This
was somewhat higher than most sleeping beds and allowed him to manipulate
my genitals without having to bend excessively. He rose and crossed the
room to the fridge where he grabbed an ice-cream tub filled to the brim
with emulsified turds. As he opened the lid the smell all but knocked you
out. He placed it on the bed beside me and went back to the shelves. Here
he selected some ordinary, rough fibred, cord or string, several clothes
pegs and a case made of leather. Like a surgeon laying out his instruments,
he laid them out in a line by my waiting body. I tried to bend forward to
remove my socks but he pushed me back. "No, Seb, the socks stay on both of
us. Its a real kink of mine."

	First, he daubed my cock, balls, under passage and upper legs with
shit from the tub. He worked with his hands like a potter moulding clay
into his subject only here it was shit into my every crevice and
surface. My whole genital area was light tan from a lighter coloured turd
mix. It was then I realised not only why the socks were chosen to match
this shit but also that various tubs were different shades of brown, each
awaiting its own time for sexual use. He saw the realisation on my face and
said. " I collect my own turds and those of playmates and grade them by
colour. Sometimes the donors do not even have sex with me. I trawl the
truck stops getting donations in payment for fucks or sucks, or even a
simple kiss. Sometimes when guys come here who are just friends, the
malfunctioning toilet flush ( deliberately sabotaged by Nick ) means that
their turds are left as floaters when they leave, making them unintentional
donors to my collection. I collect, sort, grade, and liquidise by
colour. Only my own turds do I freeze as turds for 'other' purposes." He
grinned again in a knowing way. " Makes a change from collecting stamps."
Obviously I would discover that purpose very soon.

	He now selected two cord. These were rough, course, thick
string. one of which he looped and threaded like a noose and lassooed my
balls so both were within its circle. He then tightened the string till it
cut tight around my balls. It was uncomfortable but not unduly painful. He
then pulled tighter and I yelped. Now, he threaded the string around each
ball in turn, spreading them apart and again tightened the resulting
loops. Twice he did this and my balls, constricted by the chords, turned
first red and then red-purple. He tied off a knot to keep them that way and
gave me poppers to help with the pain. They enhanced my 'enjoyment?' and
gradually I sensed that threshold crossed when pain inflicted becomes
ecstasy. I felt my balls, now harder than they have ever been, and
marvelled at how good it felt. Then it was my cock's turn. The shaft had
swelled to an inch and half in diameter and 6.5 inches in length. My cock
is cut and the mushroom head is broad. He considered a moment and then
began winding the free ends of the cord around its base. He was, in effect,
creating a very tight cock ring, allowing my erection to be maintained
without artificial enhancements. When finished, he tied off the ends in a
knot and cut the free strands with an extremely sharp knife he laid by my
side. My cock and balls were now trussed like an expert.

	Removing his now soaked pants, he revealed his own cock and
balls. His balls were large and low hanging, a by product of his self
torture over many years it seemed. His cut cock was a glistening pole of
11.5 inches in erection, slightly less thick than mine and hooked as it
went from base to tip; a very handy shape for deep fucking pleasure
giving. He coated his own midriff with shit. Without pausing he picked up
the other cord and expertly looped it over his own ball sack as I
watched. His actions produced a similar result to mine, though even
tighter, so his balls were a darker shade of red-purple and separated a
little wider than mine so a definite crack could be seen in between
them. His own cock he strapped further up than mine but still leaving 9.5
inches of bare cock flesh tinged a light red colour. He stroked his
finished work with more shit and then did the same with mine. When
satisfied, he cupped each of my balls in turn and squeezed. I yelled with
the sudden pain. "Yell all you like Seb, this room is soundproofed and
anyway we are deep in the woods. No one will hear. Enjoy the pain we give
each other as a gift; sado-masochistic love as it were." He handled my
balls like this till I stopped yelping and then came close so I could give
him my sadist love. I grasped his balls. They were as hard as stone, as
though each had been hard boiled and baked in the fire. I loved the winces
which crossed his face as I pressured each ball harder and harder. I then
grabbed his cock stem and eased my fist around it as though to make him cum
but with a grip tightening as it slipped ever so slowly up his penile
column. He smiled and withdrew. "Well Seb, it appears you are as much a
shit sadist as me. Well well, what a surprise and I thought you were some
soft limey pussy from across the pond. Let's see if you like my other tools
as much."

	With that he opened the leather case to reveal a set of
sounds. Selecting a moderately thin one, he amply lubed the pole and
manipulated my mushroom head till the piss slit was forced apart. He then
fed the sound down into my cock. The deeper it went, the more pressure from
my basal strapping. When it was mostly within my cock, he stopped, leaving
the end showing. I had never done urethral sounding but was enjoying the
feel of the metal pole within my body. Lifting one foot to the bed, he
selected a thicker instrument and inserted it slowly into his own cock. It
was obvious the supreme pleasure this gave him. When he felt it was deep
enough, he stopped, stepped around the bed, and planted a sucking kiss on
my lips; the first tender act in over an hour. Then he told me to withdraw
the pole from my own cock and, as I did, he withdrew his at the same
time. I laid my instrument aside but he took his and again eased it this
time into my cock, training my piss slit to accept a larger size. He then
selected an even larger pole, again lubed it well, and inserted it into his
own cock. This was repeated, twice more till I could not take any larger
rod. Nick then retrieved a longer, double ended, rod from his case the same
size as the largest girth I had been able to take. He eased it into my cock
leaving half showing. he then got onto the bed and positioned himself so he
could ease the other end into his own cock. He pushed on down its length
until our cock heads met; the rod now docking his body with mine. Fuck but
it was an awesome sensation. He was pleased. As a beginner apparently I had
excelled and I knew that sounding would feature heavily in my future sexual
gratification.

	There were two hooks above the bed from which he now hung chains,
the lower ends having leather securing straps. These he tied round my
ankles and hauled my feet and legs into the air as though I was in a
sling. He tightened off the chains and pulled forward my arse so the arse
hole was exposed to his close inspection. My arse was in his face and he
deep rimmed my now shit covered hole, forcing his tongue into it and
sucking shit into his mouth. I relaxed and after another snifter of
poppers, pushed out so he could penetrate even deeper into the abyss. He
moaned with pleasure as another turd protruded from my arse. Sucking it
between his lips he chewed the end of this firm nobbly shit, savouring the
exquisite taste which only shit can give to an eater. Then he lip fucked
what was already out of my hole, as if it were an ice lolly, and he, an
over excited kid. Finally, having softened the surface of the turd he
pulled the remainder from my arse by clamping his lips around the turd and
then quickly taking the whole thing into his mouth to chew. He came to my
head and shitkissed my open mouth, feeding me some of my own shit. Our kiss
was passionate in the extreme; our sharing of excrement as if between soul
mates.

	Nick then returned to the foot of the bed and my arse. He retrieved
a speculum from yet another shelf and inserted its cold metal into my
arse. with great slowness he operated the instrument till my hole gaped
wide showing the inside of my arse. Aiming his engorged cock at the black
hole. he sent a stream of hot piss into my arse. As it filled a waterfall
of urine and shit cascaded from my hole, like a river newly made, across
the rubber sheet on the bed and so onto the floor below. It soaked Nicks
socks as he stood near enough that the yellow brown liquid washed over his
lower legs and seeped through the brown wool of the sports socks.

	Nick released the speculum's hold on my arse. As the instrument's
grasp on my body shrank, he clenched his right hand and twisted its width
through the gap between stainless steel and flesh. The fist penetrated my
rectum and my arse lip muscles held his wrist as he flexed his hand within
me, knowing it was coated now with all the filth that made us love what we
do. He eased it deeper using the shit from the tub as lube in place of
crisco; working ever inward. I was no novice in FF and so his efforts were
rewarded by most of his lower arm's length sinking into my body. His cock
responded to the excitement of bodily invasion to tighten in its bonds
swelling within its tight cord embrace and turning a darker shade. It
wanted satisfaction. It had to wait. Nick forced his arm in up to the elbow
as I moaned and gasped in desire. This was not like some ordinary fisting
where the bottom runs screaming back to his enemas and douche if a single
grain of shit is revealed. This was a brutal shit fisting where the texture
was gritty and the threshold between pain and pleasure become blurred. The
depth was something I had not experienced before but the intimacy of the
bond being established between Nick and me overcame everything. It was like
conceiving, only far more intense. When he withdrew, the shit mixing with
drools of jelly like sinews, I felt as though my life had changed
forever. I only wanted this guy in my life. I knew I would not return to my
old life, country, partner or anything that preceded that moment in
time. He seemed to realise that too for himself because his eyes bulged
wide and he grasped my legs in an iron grip as his taut, rigid, throbbing
and now purple cock rammed hard into my arse. Slicked by a never ending
supply of shit, without and within, his cock pumped my hole, spreading it
to accept both his girth and his length. He sank his cock to the balls in
my shit hole and then repeatedly thrust and withdrew, tantalising my arse
with its power. When he came it was a torrent that even a fire hose could
not match. In went gallons of cum, pumping on and on till collapse. My cock
shot its load over my lover's face and he bent to lick and suck what was
left on my head and shaft.

	Was this the finale? No. He had one more kink to show me. Peeling
the now sodden sock from his left foot, Nick sat upon a wooden chair and
levered his leg up on to the bed. Bending like a ballet dancer in action,
he coated his foot with more shit and lube and prodded my arse hole with
his toes. My hole, now extended by instrument, fist and cock, opened to his
touch and gradually his foot started to be swallowed by my gaping
orifice. I have never been foot fisted before and the feeling was so
different from a hand. Nick's feet, unlike his monster cock, were
relatively narrow and rated around a 9 in European shoe size. He worked his
toes to make my hole accept more and more of the rest of the foot till,
with a plop, his heel disappeared completely and his foot was wholly
contained within my rectum. I damn near screamed and it took rapid and
repeated poppers to even stand the pressure on the inner walls of my
arse. However he just sat there without moving, letting my body recover
from the shock of invasion. And there was, indeed, panic to overcome. How
many of you who read this have had a time, even if only a single instance,
when in your lust you have had something shoved in your hole which you
feared could not be withdrawn without surgery?

	But Nick was a professional. He was confident and controlled and by
the merest flick of his foot he angled it again to withdraw from its locked
position. Again with a plop his heel reappeared and then rapidly his whole
foot, now coated with my filth. He raised the leg to slime the foot's
coating over my still raised legs, smoothing them as if in a massage with
his shit covered foot.

	We stilled. The exertions had lasted most of the evening and half
the night. He released my from my chains but not from my bindings. Neither
did he unbind himself. He lay at my side holding me in his arms as our
bodies massaged the build up of shit, piss and lube between them. We were
shit partners now. "Don't leave Seb." He said. "Be mine and we will shit
our way through the rest of our lives together, exploring every facet of
how filth can enhance our lust and love."

	Quietly, in barely a whisper I replied "Yes, oh yes."





	I hope you enjoyed this story. I am always open to ideas for new
stories which explore the interest in shit and piss that all we brothers
enjoy so much. I welcome contact from my readers and love to hear about
your experiences that mirror my storylines.

	Always remember that if Nifty was not here most of the stories
would not be out there to read. So please support Nifty if you can.



Brownluster 2023 ( Brownluster7@protonmail.com )