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Subject: {ASSM} A Dirty Little Girl ( Fg, ped, scat )
Date: Tue, 10 Jun 2003 15:10:02 -0400
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My first offering to the very fine A.S.S.M. I hope somebody
likes it.
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<1st attachment, "a_dirty_little_girl.txt" begin>
A Dirty Little Girl
by bluepervina - (C) 2003
bluepervina_AT_earthling.net
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/bluepervina/www/
( Fg, ped, scat )
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read (any or specific kinds of) electronically transmitted erotic
material, please do not read anything else in this file.
This material is copyrighted by bluepervina. All rights are
reserved. The author specifically grants to an individual user
the right to download and keep ONE electronic copy for that
individual's personal reading so long as all original copyright
notices by bluepervina remain included with the work.
Any and all reposting requires prior written permission from
bluepervina.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * *
Melanie Hayes was a ten year-old girl not concerned with normal
ten year-old girl things.
She knew people thought she was pretty. She had dark, fine hair
that fell to the middle of her back. Her eyes were large and
dark brown, with long lashes; often passersby paused and stared
and commented to their companions about what a gorgeous woman
she'd be someday. Her bones were fine and long, preparing her
body for height and delicacy. Being ten, her legs were a lot
longer than her torso, so she walked a little awkwardly, and many
middle-aged men couldn't help but stare. Her breasts were just
puffy buds, and she didn't even wear a training bra yet, although
her mother had suggested nervously once that perhaps she should.
It was mysterious and odd to her, the way people treated her
because of how she looked. And if she had been any other girl,
she'd have long ago learned how to use that to her ownadvantage.
Melanie, however, wasn't really aware of all those things. Not
the way her parents were. Not the way her teachers or her
friends were. Others looked at her and saw a budding beauty,
sensitive and shy and needing to be nurtured and protected.
Melanie looked at herself, however, and saw a dirty little girl.
She was raised in a loving home by very religious parents. They
were not severe at all, just dedicated to a pure and holy way of
life. Happiness and security was the order of the day for
Melanie. She was raised as correctly as any ideal parental
situation could hope to produce. But it didn't help. It didn't
stop her from doing nasty things. What was so wrong with her
that she could be brought up in such a nice home with such sweet,
loving parents, yet she could still be so sick inside? So
perverted!
With guilty, twisted pleasure, Melanie had to admit it to
herself: she loved to play with her shit.
Melanie always produced very firm-to-hard medium-sized turds, and
she had to work very hard to push them out. Often she had to
push fingers into her vagina to nudge at the poop from a better
angle. Sometimes she would simply reach straight up into her ass
and dig those nuggets right out.
Being a child, Melanie was extremely ashamed of her bad little
habit. At the same time, though, she was also extremely excited
by her bad little habit. She took to obsessively washing her
hands with her father's Lava soap in the garage. Old color
pictures of her show her hands to almost always be the brightest
shade of scrubbed-pink. Shit, of course, stinks. Really,
really, stinks. It is an odor that seeps into the skin and stays
there for quite some time after the shit itself has been cleaned
away. And Melanie secretly, joyously, sniffed her fingers and
hands as often as she could.
At age nine, Melanie began shitting her panties at school and
throwing them into the trash can, vaguely--in her own
prepubescent way--getting off on the idea that others would be
smelling her shit in the school bathroom for days to come. Her
usual routine was to go to lunch, let it combine with breakfast
inside her for a nice big chunk, then she'd be excused from class
late in the day to crap it all out into her panties while she
stood, half-crouched, in a locked stall under the tiny frosted
bathroom window. She loved to hear the younger kids playing at
recess outside while she loaded her panties full of shit. She
imagined some of them did what she did, and that made her dizzy
with urges she couldn't satisfy, but loved to feel, nonetheless.
Melanie's panties-messing happened only a few times a month, so
her regularly absent panties from the laundry basket wouldn't
become too noticeable. Her family lived very close to a K-Mart,
and that was back in the days when a girl could walk around her
neighborhood alone, so Melanie went up there often and spent her
allowance on lot of new panties. Eventually she would buy boys'
underwear instead of girls', because it held the shit against her
ass so much better, and for those few minutes in the bathroom
stall that she would squish it around and listen to it crackle
and squirt, it was so much more satisfying to know that she was
doing it all in a boys' pair of white cotton briefs.
The end of school was always only a half-hour or so away when
Melanie would return from her weekly bathroom shit. She tried to
do it only on a Friday, because the other kids were often more
excited then and less likely to be concentrating on trying to
find the source of a strange poopy-smell. However, Melanie's
fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Reeves, did smell something. She
pulled Melanie aside after school one day.
"You and I need to have a chat," said Mrs. Reeves, settling into
a student's desk beside Melanie. The girl was surprised her
teacher could fit, but then she noticed for the first time how
slender and petite Mrs. Reeves really was. Being tall, Mrs.
Reeves gave the much smaller Melanie the impression that she was
a giant in every way. But that just wasn't true. Looking at her
now, Melanie could see that her teacher was a very attractive,
shapely woman.
The friends Melanie always walked home with were waiting for her
outside the open classroom door, in shock and amazement, since
Melanie was a model student and never got into any trouble.
Melanie herself was very alarmed as well, and completely
embarrassed that her friends were watching her. With an
impatient flurry of her hands, Melanie sent them grumbling away.
"I'm glad we'll be alone for this little talk, because there's
some things that you might not want other people to hear." Mrs.
Reeves held Melanie's gaze for a long time before looking away
and clearing her throat. Melanie was terrified, but sat very
still.
"You don't--um--wipe yourself very well, my dear," murmured Mrs.
Reeves in a low and gentle voice. She leaned toward Melanie and
gave her a very small, very sympathetic, pitying smile. "Your
bottom is dirty sometimes, and I can smell it."
Melanie didn't know what to say. She was sweating heavily under
her clothes, and her bare bottom inside her skirt suddenly felt
extremely naked. Her habit was to wipe with her bare hands until
her bottom was dry. It left wonderful streaks that she would
scrape off later and taste, thin little flakes that melted on her
tongue before bath time. Now she sensed almost painfully that
those smelly brown streaks were all but burning into her skin,
sending clear signals to Mrs. Reeves that she was a very dirty
girl.
Mrs. Reeves sat quietly watching Melanie squirm. Melanie in
return tried to act casual, and eventually she shrugged and
looked toward the open classroom door. In the distance down the
hallway she could hear the janitor whistling. The streaks, as
they sometimes did when she got hot, began to severely itch her
narrow ass. More than anything, Melanie wanted to run home, tear
off all her clothes, and jump into a cool bathtub.
"Let me show you something." From her lap Mrs. Reeves brought up
her checkbook calendar. Opening it flat on the desktop, she
motioned Melanie to lean over and look.
"Look at these marks here," Mrs. Reeves said, pointing at certain
Fridays in each month, where a little black X had been written in
the day's square. Melanie's stomach clenched as she stared at
the X's. She was caught. Mrs. Reeves was looking at her, but
Melanie didn't return the look. She remained staring down at the
calendar, rigid with terror.
"Melanie, I should tell you that all year I've been smelling a
dirty bottom, ever since the first week of school." She turned
the calendar back to August. "It wasn't until the next month
that I realized there was a pattern to when I smelled that
dirtiness, so I began to keep track of it. By December I was
definitely expecting the pattern to continue," she flipped
through the months to show Melanie the X every two-to-three
weeks, almost always on a Friday, "so then my next task was
trying to discover whose dirty little bottom it was."
Melanie, in looking down at the calendar, began to notice more in
her field of vision than she first realized. Out of the corner
of her eye, just beneath the edge of the desk, was Mrs. Reeve's
lap. Her legs were not crossed at all, not even at the ankles,
and one of her hands fell to rest in her lap while the other
continued to flip about the calendar. Melanie strained to pick
it up on the edge of her vision, but she thought she could see
Mrs. Reeves hand moving a little. The heel of her hand pressed
down between her thighs.
Something warm seemed to burst inside Melanie's head, right
behind her eyes, as her shock consumed her. A huge sob shook her
body, and suddenly she was on her feet running toward the door,
out into the hallway. Old Mr. Jones, the pleasant janitor, was
sweeping the floor and stopped to watch her approach. Melanie
didn't know what to say, so she only continued running. Before
she knew it, she was out on the sidewalk, sprinting home,
sobbing. It was absolutely the worst day of her life.
Then the next Friday was the best.
* * *
All the next week Melanie faked being sick in order to stay home.
The doctor said she was "at that age" when strange things in her
body might make her want to lie low for a while. He told her
mother not to worry and gave them both a lollipop. At home,
Melanie refrained from playing with her poop at all, and she
gathered up all of her boys' underwear, walked down the street to
a neighbor's trash can, and threw them away. She would be a good
girl from now on.
On Friday, Mrs. Reeves came to Melanie's house and took her out
for dinner and a movie. During the week, the teacher had called
Melanie's mother and expressed great concern over her daughter's
health. Mrs. Stuart had confided that the problems might be
relating to pre-pubescent "developments", and she at a loss as to
how to handle it. Mrs. Reeves then volunteered to come by and
take Melanie out for a pleasant evening and a little gentle
advice. It was, after all, what a teacher lived for--to help
shape a child's life.
When Melanie heard her teacher's voice at the front door, her
throat instantly went dry. It became hard to breathe, and she
ran into her bedroom and locked the door. She could hear her
parents and her teacher talking pleasantly for several minutes as
Melanie sat on her bed, knees drawn up rocking slowly back and
forth. Tears were streaming down her face. As the voices drew
closer, and the knob on her door was jiggled in surprise, Melanie
knew her life was over.
"You see, this is what we're afraid of," muttered her mother.
"This sort of strange stuff was going to happen sooner or later,
we knew, but we just wish it was later. The teenage years will
be so much harder on us if she has to start them when she's ten!"
With that, Melanie dutifully got up to unlock the door and show
the cruel adults her pink tear-stained face. If they only knew
what her real problem was! She was a dirty shit-loving thing!
An animal! And her teacher knew it, and it made her touch
herself!
"Ah, oh dear," whispered her mother, taking Melanie gently into
her arms. One hand wiped at the tears while the other smoothed
the little girl's hair. "This is just what we've been talking
about."
"Well, don't worry," smiled Mrs. Reeves, bending over slightly to
run her own long hand through Melanie's dark hair. "Every gir
goes through something like this sooner or later." Melanie dared
to look up at her teacher then. Something in the woman's voice
had sounded... nice. Very gentle and honest and real. A loving
voice. Melanie searched her teacher's face and saw nothing but
kindness, and her hand on her hair felt very good.
She closed her eyes and sobbed one last time.
"All right, Melanie," said her dad. "Mrs. Reeves was worried
about you, so she came by to take you out for a nice little
evening. OK? Have fun!" And with that, Melanie was out the
door and down the walk to the car, holding Mrs. Reeves' hand.
She felt like a kindergartner, but she didn't let go. Part of
her was afraid, and part of her was not.
In the car, slowly winding away down the road toward a pizza
place, Mrs. Reeves didn't say a word about the poopy smell or the
calendar or Melanie's panicked flight from the school. They
talked about nothing important, but it was a pleasant sort of
nothing, and Melanie began to relax. She hadn't felt like eating
much all week, so she was famished. With Mrs. Reeves
encouragement, Melanie ate nearly an entire pizza all by herself,
and the two of them took a long, comfortable time to finish
eating. Melanie did worry a little about how gassy pizza always
made her, but she tried telling herself that Mrs. Reeves wasn't
as mean as she thought. It would be OK. Melanie just hoped--as
she finished of yet another thick, cheesy piece--that the
inevitable large poops that pizza gave her could hold off until
she got back home. The last thing she wanted to do in her
awkward situation was to do that around the woman who knew her
secret!
But Mrs. Reeves seemed completely at ease, not caring in the
least that the girl sitting across from her was a little shit
lover. By the time they finished dinner, Melanie was giggling
over typical girl-stuff, as Mrs. Reeves proved adept at being
able to related perfectly to what went on inside a youngster's
head. It was clear why she was such a good teacher.
On the way to the movie, Mrs. Reeves brought up the smell.
Melanie was ready to talk about it this time. She sat on her
side of the car watching the streetlights zip by, and she lightly
knotted and unknotted her hands in her lap. She was very
conscious of her rectum and the heaviness that was already
beginning to build from dinner. Her anus itched just a little.
"Melanie, I understand why you ran away last week," said Mrs.
Reeves very gently. "But you don't have to be afraid." They had
come to a stoplight, and Mrs. Reeves looked over at Melanie, then
reached over and cupped her chin in her long fingers. "You don't
have to be ashamed, dear."
They drove on in silence for another mile before Melanie spoke.
"I don't know why I'm so dirty," she said in a small voice. She
stared at the dashboard and waited.
Mrs. Reeves chuckled, "Hey, it's OK. It's a natural part of your
body. It's there and you can't help it."
"But it's wrong to leave myself dirty," stammered Melanie,
confused.
"It's wrong to do in school," corrected Mrs. Reeves, "when you're
around other people. But when you're alone, that's your
business. In private you can do with your body whatever you want
to do."
Melanie struggled with what she was hearing. "Really?" she
whispered. "Anything?"
"It's just YOU," Mrs. Reeves emphasized. "Who else should ever
know what you do with your body? Unless you want them to know,
that is."
Melanie stared at the dashboard as a warm flush ran straight down
her body to her crotch. That night, for the first time in her
life, she would have a full-blown orgasm. Her body was getting
her ready for it. She turned to her teacher and frowned. "But
God will always know, right?"
Mrs. Reeves instantly nodded. "Right." Then she looked deeply
into Melanie's eyes. "But remember, He's the one who GAVE you
that shit to play with."
Boom! As if echoes hammered inside her head, Melanie struggled
to believe she'd heard correctly. At the same time, the warm
flush ran deeper, and Melanie distinctly felt something begin to
ooze out of her pussy. It tickled, and she wanted to reach into
her panties and smear it around.
Understanding Melanie's shocked silence, Mrs. Reeves continued.
"There is no law of God's against loving your own poop, my dear.
It's perfectly OK. You've just got to trust me on this."
The light changed.
* * *
When they got to the movie theater, the show they wanted to see
was already fifteen minutes gone by. They'd taken too long at
the pizza place! Melanie stood near the ticket window with her
teacher, wondering what they were going to do, when Mrs. Reeves
softly said, "You know, Melanie, we could just go back to my
house and watch a movie. I've got a lot of DVDs you mightlike."
Melanie blushed and looked down at her shoes. The thought of
seeing the inside of her teacher's house was an unspeakable
thrill to her, although she had no idea why. It was bizarre to
even think that Mrs. Reeves slept or ate or watched movies or did
any of the normal things that she did. Teachers weren't supposed
to be real people, right?
But Melanie's world was expanding that night. Her teacher had
comforted her about her deepest, most depraved problem. She had
filled her up with the food that was Melanie's favorite--and the
most likely to make her problem come back, and soon. Her teacher
had not decided to give up on their special night just because
they'd missed the movie. Instead, she was giving Melanie the
rare chance for the student to see the teacher in private life,
in her home. It was a marvelous rush! Melanie didn't recognize
the feeling, but it was there, and getting stronger: she was
falling in love with Mrs. Reeves.
"OK," the girl said. "I'd like that." Carefully, tenderly, Mrs.
Reeves reached out and took Melanie's slender hand in hers. They
walked back to the car like that, the teacher's fingers lightly
caressing the student's. Melanie had never felt so warm and so
special in her entire life.
* * *
Mrs. Reeves' house was just three blocks away from Melanie's--she
could walk there anytime, her teacher said! By the time they
reached it, though, Melanie was desperately worried about her
dinner. It wanted to come out. Great big heavy bunches of it.
Her bottom was full and weighted down. It was awkward to sit in
the car seat, and it was worse to walk.
Then, just before turning onto Mrs. Reeves' street, Melanie let
out her first fart. She was mortified, but she couldn't hold it
in any longer. There wasn't a danger of shitting herself,
either--this time it would be very solid, she could tell--so the
fart was merely a decision she had to make in order to relieve
some of the pain that was building up. Her narrow ass made a
froggy squawk, and she shifted nervously and looked hard out the
window.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears in her eyes.
She heard Mrs. Reeves inhale slowly, then exhale, then breathe
again. "It's OK, Melanie," she said, and Melanie felt her
teacher's hand pat her on the thigh, then stay there, the thumb
rubbing gently up and down, just above her knee. "I know you
couldn't help it, and I don't mind the smell."
Melanie was much relieved to hear that, and the hand on her leg
helped her spirits to improve, too. A teacher who thought she
was filthy and terrible wouldn't have held her hand and touched
her leg so gently, right? Mrs. Reeves must like her despite all
that! Melanie's tears really did come, then, but more from
relief and happiness than anything else. She wiped her face
quickly and turned to give the woman a quick, "thank you" kind of
smile. She suddenly farted again. This time they both looked at
each other and burst into laughter. And the more Melanie
laughed, the more she farted. The car began to smell wonderfully
noxious, and Melanie guiltily laughed on and breathed as deeply
as she could.
"I guess you ate too much pizza, young lady!" Mrs. Reeves
chuckled. She squeezed Melanie's knee affectionately, then moved
her hand up to pat the girl lightly on her tummy. Melanie choked
on a last guffaw, and looked down at the well-manicured fingers
rubbing her abdomen, right where the seat belt was pushing. "You
must be getting pretty full and crampy down here, eh?"
It was more than true. Melanie was stunned by how honest her
teacher was, how comfortable she was talking about such intimate,
dirty things. Was this normal for other girls and their mothers?
Was this how all kids learned about these natural things their
bodies did? Moms who laughed and touched and spoke openly about
it? Her mom had never and would never do such a thing, that was
for sure. But maybe that was the wrong way... maybe Mrs. Reeves
was giving her the kind of attention and affection that all the
other girls in the world really got in their homes, so they could
know the right way to grow up, the right way to think and act.
Melanie put her hand over her teacher's and held it there,
massaging her cramps. Maybe Mrs. Reeves was right in what she'd
said before, but Melanie was still too locked in her own weird
world to truly believe it: things like shit weren't as bad and
as dirty as she'd thought; it was part of God's plan for her
body, and she shouldn't be so hard on herself for liking it.
Everybody had to shit, after all, so it was as common and as
normal as putting on clothes or brushing hair. Why should she
worry about it so much?
Soon they were in Mrs. Reeves' driveway, and she was unbuckling
Melanie's seatbelt for her as the girl struggled to get out and
stumble toward her teacher's back door. The garage was
free-standing, behind the house, and Mrs. Reeves led them into
her home through the kitchen door. Melanie had perhaps taken
twenty steps from the car to the middle of the kitchen when her
body decided it had to poop immediately.
No more farts, no more cramps that could wait. It had to come
out. Her rectum felt as if an entire bowling ball were hanging
low inside, pushing down hard on her agonized sphincter. A
shuddering wave of clenching spasms wracked her lower body as she
fought the natural urge to just let go.
Of course, instantly Melanie was in tears again, desperate to
find the right way to go to get to a bathroom. At the same time,
though, she was terrified that one more step would bring it all
right out of her, no matter how hard she'd try to stop it. What
am I going to do? Melanie's mind cowered in the face of all her
fears. Oh, God, please help me!
Mrs. Reeves, who followed her in, stepped past her until she was
standing in front of the girl. The kitchen table was beside
them, and the teacher dropped her purse and keys on it. Her
eyes, watching Melanie's paralyzed terror and humiliation, were
soft and sympathetic.
"Can't take another step, can you?" she asked gently. She
reached up and smoothed the tears from Melanie's cheeks. Her
touch was so nice! Next she pushed back some of Melanie's dark
hair, which had fallen across her face. Tucking the hair behind
her ears for her, Mrs. Reeves calmly said, "It's OK. I
understand if you can't make it to the bathroom."
Melanie, despite her extreme discomfort and distraction, took a
giant pause at that. What did she mean?
Mrs. Reeves continued. "Look, dear, I've got linoleum floors in
here. It'll clean up just fine if you need to go, and we'll wash
your clothes in my washer."
Melanie was stunned. This, now, was being nicer than anybody,
really would normally be. Right? At the same time, though,
Melanie's love for her teacher was as ready to erupt as her
asshole. She remained immobilized by it all, rigid with pain and
astonishment.
"All right," Mrs. Reeves simply said. "I understand how you must
feel. But you don't have much choice, do you?"
Melanie shook her head.
"You really can't move another inch without going?"
Melanie nodded.
"But you're embarrassed?"
Melanie shrugged, big tears rolling down her cheeks, and then she
slowly nodded.
Mrs. Reeves took a deep breath, then another. "Well," she said.
"I guess I'll have to help you. OK?" She stepped closer to the
girl and took her face in her hands. Guiding Melanie's cheek to
her soft bosom, Mrs. Reeves hugged the girl closely. Melanie
instinctively threw her arms around her teacher's waist,
clutching her tightly. Her teacher was thin, and her breasts
were nicely proportioned to her body. She smelled like sweet
summer flowers, and she was warm.
Suddenly Melanie found herself in the most conflicted moment
she'd ever known in her life. All the romantic love a ten
year-old could possibly feel for another person was surging
violently through her body, mind, and soul. She felt extremely
hot and light-headed, and her heart almost scared her with its
pounding. At the same time, she stood immobilized by the
embarrassment and humiliation of her inevitable shit accident.
How could she ever really be forgiven by Mrs. Reeves if she got
dirty poop all over her kitchen? And, on top of all that,
enfolding it all within a blinding haze that she would recognize
in years to come as unabated lust, Melanie wanted desperately to
feel and to smell and to see and to taste her hot, nasty,
wonderful shit.
"Just move your hands lower, dear," Mrs. Reeves whispered to her.
"It's all right. Put them down on my bottom. Down where my
legs come together."
Melanie mechanically did as she was told. Her mind was a
screaming storm of confusion, so her instincts took over. She
was going to trust and obey the older woman. She ran her small
hands down lightly over the back of her teacher's skirt, down
over the lush curve of her ass, down below where it curved back
and tucked in, until she was reaching around the tops of the
woman's thighs. Her little fingers fit snugly into the crease of
Mrs. Reeves' ass, furrowed into her crotch from behind. Dimly,
Melanie wondered what her fingers would smell like if she could
pull them up the her face just then.
"That's it, that's right," Mrs. Reeves crooned, smoothing down
Melanie's hair. Her touch was a lover's, full of care and
intent.
"Now, you just relax and wait...." Melanie felt her teacher's
body tense all over. Shifting their position slightly, Mrs.
Reeves widened her stance and leaned a little bit on Melanie's
upper body. The girl could feel her teacher's breath close on
her head, in her ear. Mrs. Reeves was bending over her, pressing
her face into the girl's soft hair. Her breathing was slow and
deep, and then she grunted.
Immediately, Melanie's fingertips were wet. She heard dripping
on the floor beneath them. Her feet in her sandals were getting
wet from the splatter, and suddenly so was her tummy and legs.
Mrs. Reeves grunted again, and the wetness got a lot worse. She
was peeing!
Her teacher's urine was soaking into her clothes as it gushed out
and down, and that transferred onto Melanie's clothes as well.
Even the fronts of her thighs were getting trickled on through
the fabric of her teacher's skirt, which was pressed tight
between them. Still too stunned and desperate to think on her
own, still relying on her trust and new love for her teacher,
Melanie remained motionless and in physical agony. Her hands
stayed glued up against her teacher's crotch, and pee began to
flow along her wrists and forearms, dripping off her elbows.
Melanie's need to relieve herself was too much. Any moment now
and she'd explode. But that couldn't be bad now, right? Not if
her wonderful teacher was willing to do the same thing....
Mrs. Reeves, as if reading the girl's mind, whispered, "See,
beautiful girl... it's OK to use the bathroom however you'd
like... when you're in private." Then the woman grunted again
and squeezed Melanie even tighter. The girl gasped. A familiar
bulge pushed against her fingers. It was getting bigger. It was
so hot!
Mrs. Reeves was shitting in her own panties! For me! Melanie's
nose suddenly caught the stench, and the girl's legs gave way.
If her teacher hadn't had such a good grip, they'd both have
collapsed into the pool of piss.
But they remained where they were, locked together, as Mrs.
Reeves continued to grunt softly and push more and more shit out
of her ass. Melanie simply held her fingers against the fabric
of the woman's dress where she'd bunched it up against her
panties and the crack of her ass. Slowly, she could tell there
was a slime starting to seep through to her fingers. It was
getting really messy in there.
"That's it," her teacher murmured, "feel my poop coming out.
Right here with you, and it's OK. I don't mind giving my dirty
pieces to you here.... We're in private, see? We're alone and
no one in the world will ever know. Understand?"
Melanie thought she did, and she nodded her head.
"Yes, good. I want you to know this forever, sweet child. You
are allowed to do whatever you want with your body, and that
includes every part of it, even this poop that you think is so
terrible."
Mrs. Reeves gave her an extra squeeze, then kissed the top of her
head hotly, pressing her half-open mouth against Melanie's hair
for a long time. The girl could feel her teacher's breath,
coming more ragged now.
"I want you to know that it is *not* terrible. Not if you like
it. It's OK."
Melanie closed her eyes and tried to keep her own body under
control. Despite what her teacher had just done for her, she was
still unsure. She still had to overcome the weird fears that she
couldn't even explain. But she could smell the shit. The odor
hung thickly in the air, a tangible gas she could actually taste
when she opened her mouth. In a blast of euphoria, Melanie
suddenly realized she was permitted to touch someone else's shit.
She could feel the slime on her fingers! She was being allowed
and encouraged to touch it--her teacher had told her feel down
there, and she'd just said that it was OK....
Why shouldn't she make her own mess, too? Oh God, she thought,
maybe we can play with it together! Melanie's legs shook again
as her last moments of control were shattered.
"Melanie, baby, it's OK. It's OK." Her teacher continued to
kiss and stroke her hair, holding her as tightly as possible.
"It's OK. Go ahead now. Go ahead. Let it out."
Melanie couldn't help it. Her poop was coming! She cried out,
"Unngghhh!" and buried her face deep in her teacher's wonderful
cleavage. Wrapped inside that warm flowery cocoon, the girl
could barely breathe, but it was like heaven. She shuddered and
sobbed, then she let her bottom completely go.
A rude wet eruption of farts issued from her backside, then a
huge turd burst through her anal ring. If she'd been on the
toilet, it was one that might've been two feet long by the time
her anus pinched it off. But this one wasn't dropping and
coiling harmlessly in the potty. This one had nowhere to go.
Hitting the resistance of her underwear and shorts, it
immediately squashed and slid out the top and the legs of her
panties. More and more came, and Melanie sobbed and pushed,
harder and harder, trying to get it all out, to get relief. To
get dirty.
Hot, wet clumps slid down the backs of her thighs, until the
angle and their weight was too much, and they fell free from her
legs to land with great nasty splats upon the linoleum.
Melanie's ankles and heels were quickly being covered in small
mounds of excrement. In the small of her back, where the poop
was overflowing out of the top of her underwear, her tucked-in
shirt held the growing clot of waste in place. Her back was
getting sticky and itchy where it was covered.
A good deal of filth went up under her crotch, too, sliming its
way between the lips of her pussy. Soon her entire pudenda was
thickly caked with her own feces. Her pussy crack was on fire,
and Melanie had an uncomfortable certainty--one that she'd known
only a couple times before--that some of the wicked mess had
squirmed its way up inside her hole. Her vagina felt invaded.
It was like when her fingertip went up in there, but not as hard.
It was filling her narrow tunnel, though. Definitely it was
something she could feel going inside, where nothing was supposed
to be.
Her urine flooded out of her as her straining poop subsided, and
soon her panties were an insane leaking bag of sewage. Her pussy
was turned into a messy sludge of waste, the pee swelling up
against it momentarily before her panties saturated and the shit
was eroded enough at the edges to let it out. Every inch of her
bare legs was covered in wet nasty stuff, running down. She was
soaked. She knew her teacher was soaked, too. And the smell!
It had to smell horrible!
Melanie pulled her face out from her teacher's cleavage and
inhaled. Wow. It was worse than she thought. It was worse than
bathrooms at the convenience store near her house. The stench
seemed to suffocate all breathable air, to make each attempt to
inhale a torture of control. It was all she could do to breathe
and not vomit. Against her, above her, she could feel Mrs.
Reeves convulsing, too. A muffled gurgling and swallow told her
that her teacher felt the exact same way.
For many moments, the girl and the woman held each other that
way, stifling down the puke, trying to breathe regularly, getting
used to the smell. Melanie's eyes were closed tightly, and she
tried to simply feel. The sticky, burning shit was all over her
skin. From her belly-button down, in front and in back, she was
itching and messy. It was wonderful. She wanted more than
anything to settle her stomach so she could start holding it and
squishing it between her fingers and smearing it around. She
wondered if Mrs. Reeves would let her.
Her conflicted emotions were fading. She began to feel like she
normally did at the height of her playtime, when she was alone
and overcome with lust. Her mind no longer wondered if she was
wrong or bad or dirty. She didn't fear she'd go to hell. It
wasn't about that anymore. She decided she could trust her
teacher, she could believe her. Mrs. Reeves was an adult. She
knew how the world worked, and she wasn't afraid to tell Melanie
the things her parents were too uptight to talk about. If
everyone else knew it was OK to fool around with their own bodies
in private, then why couldn't she? Why shouldn't she?
Eventually, Melanie found her voice. Coughing a little, she
said, "You feel nice."
Mrs. Reeves chuckled, coughed, and kissed the top of her head.
Tipping the girl's chin up toward her, the older woman bent down
and kissed Melanie fully on the lips. Her mouth was soft and
warm. Melanie's heart thumped violently in her chest. Her pussy
seemed to tie itself in a knot. Her mouth kissed back.
Passionately.
Then she felt the tip of Mrs. Reeves' tongue. It was licking
against her lips, wiggling, trying to part them. Melanie knew
what this was: frenching! Mrs. Reeves wanted to french kiss
her! Light-headed with joy, Melanie opened her mouth wide. As
the woman's long, warm tongue entered her mouth, Melanie couldn't
help but moan. Mrs. Reeves' mouth was bigger than hers, and her
lips were so soft and full. She could taste the woman's lipstick
and the pepperoni from the pizza she'd eaten earlier. Her
tongue, sliding so slowly against her own, was a sultry,
confident animal in Melanie's mouth, melting her from the inside
out.
The little girl tried dizzily to rub and push her own tongue
against her teacher's. Mrs. Reeves' tongue danced along,
whichever way Melanie's went. The girl was overcome with wonder
and gratitude and desire. It was paradise.
Melanie's legs gave way again, but her teacher held her up, and
they continued to kiss. Melanie's enthrallment made her squeeze,
more and more, against her teacher, and soon her hands were
squashing recklessly into the mass of poop that still hung
heavily in Mrs. Reeves' panties. The woman groaned into
Melanie's open mouth, working her tongue with even more
intensity. Melanie could hear her teacher's shit squish out of
her panty legs and top. New splats on the floor decorated her
toes and feet and shins. The little girl now wanted to kiss and
to play, and so she continued to try her best to french with her
teacher like a woman would do, while at the same time she
rhythmically, sensuously, rubbed against the back of Mrs. Reeves'
soiled skirt, against the shitty panties sliding all over her
ass.
Then she found the zipper at the back, and she pulled it down.
Her teacher's long skirt fell heavily to the floor. Mrs. Reeves
gasped into Melanie's mouth, and her entire body shuddered like
she'd just been splashed with cold water. Melanie slid her hands
up the backs of the woman's thighs, onto the lower cheeks of her
ass. She was filthy, covered in shit. Melanie could feel the
familiar thick scum of smeared shit collecting between her
fingers as she move them around. Shit got caught under
fingernails, caked up over the backs of her hands, on her
knuckles. Mrs. Reeves was now moaning continuously into the
little girl's mouth.
Melanie pulled aside her teacher's slimy panties, then, and did
what she loved to do to herself. She inserted the entire length
of one finger into her teacher's brown, loose asshole, and she
began to wiggle it around. Mrs. Reeves broke contact with
Melanie's mouth and cried out, "Yes! God, yes! Don't stop!"
Melanie, her obsession taking over, inserted another finger in
the hole. Hugging her teacher's breasts close to her face, she
pumped her fingers relentlessly into the woman's anus, relishing
the squirting and popping sounds the shit made as it got drawn
out of the woman's rectum, then squeezed aside to make room for
more savage thrusts.
Mrs. Reeves, though, lost control of her legs. She let go of
Melanie and fell straight down. Melanie, still clutching at her
teacher, got yanked down on top of her. Her fingers wrenched out
of the woman's asshole on just in time before Mrs. Reeves hit the
linoleum. Collapsed in the middle of their own revolting
excrement, the two of them just lay still for a moment. Melanie
rested her head on Mrs. Reeves heaving chest and listened to the
woman's heart bang away. The girl's entire lower body was
sprawled on the filthy floor, while her upper body pressed gently
down on her teacher's. Mrs. Reeves lay completely on her back,
her legs spread wide, her hands once again gently stroking her
student's soft hair.
Finally, her teacher was able to speak. "So, Melanie, you see
how this is OK? Do you mind what we just did?"
Melanie thought about it. She knew the rules about adults and
children. Her parents had warned her about adults getting too
friendly, that she was supposed to tell them if any adults
touched her down there or made her touch them. She could tell
from experience that it was a real concern, not just some
religiously-slanted pointed of view. She'd never, ever seen any
adult behaving the way Mrs. Reeves had with her. Mrs. Reeves had
broken rules. But so had she! She was the one who put her
fingers in her teacher's dirty hole... and Mrs. Reeves hadn't
even asked her to!
A new wave of fear and shame shuddered through her, and she
didn't know what to say. What she was afraid of, really, was
that she wasn't sorry that she'd touched her teacher like that.
She wasn't sorry her teacher had done such dirty bathroom things
or had kissed her like that. She knew that stuff was wrong, and
now she was shocked at herself for liking it. For not caring any
more about breaking the rules. For wanting to do it more and
more.
Her values shifted. It was an easy victory within her--of
depravity over decency. Why couldn't adults touch her, really?
If she wanted it, what was the problem? Why shouldn't they do
things to her, if she wanted them to? It was never cool to force
things on a person, no matter if you were an adult or not. But
otherwise, what was the big deal? Melanie decided that the rule
must have been made up to protect little girls from mean people
who didn't ask for permission to touch. But, since she wanted to
be touched, the rule didn't apply to her.
After that, she was ready to play all night.
"Melanie," Mrs. Reeves said, her voice gentle, "I understand if
you're a little scared. I know this isn't what you think a
teacher should do with--"
"No!" Melanie interrupted. "No.... I mean, it's OK." She
lifted her head and looked down into her teacher's half-wild
eyes.
"I love you--I mean--I love it," she blushed and snuggled her
face down inbetween the woman's breasts.
"Oh, my baby," Mrs. Reeves crooned, hugging her close, "I love
you, too. I love you so, so much...."
Melanie raised her head in amazement, but Mrs. Reeves didn't look
away or shake her head.
"For the longest time I've been watching you, falling for you
more each day." She smoothed the hair out of the child's eyes.
"Then I felt like I really had to help you out with
your--um--problem, and I thought I'd lost you forever. You were
so upset! But I know what you've been going through. I wanted
so much to help you."
Mrs. Reeves was crying now, silent tears running free. Melanie
began to weep, too, at the sight of her teacher in such tender
pain. She just wanted to kiss her again, to feel her tongue like
that again, and maybe that would make her stop. But her teacher
continued talking while the tears flowed.
"You see, I was just like you. I grew up always playing with my
poop. I loved it more than anything else in the world. I tried
to get dirty every time I thought I could get away with it. I
did it at school like you, too. But I got caught, and I had a
hard time for a while. Then--" she sobbed and paused, looking
away.
Melanie hugged her fiercely, and Mrs. Reeves went on.
"For a long time I was in a special place, and my parents would
visit once a month. I got lots of help from people, and
eventually I stopped wanting to play in my shit. So I went
somewhere else for a while, and that was nice. I fell in love
and did a lot of normal girl things. Then, when they let me out
of that place, I was free." She smiled in a way that Melanie
couldn't understand.
But then Mrs. Reeves brightened, and her tears stopped coming.
"So I went to college. It was so wonderful! And I met somebody
really special there." Her eyes looked up at the ceiling, far
away. "With her help, eventually, I was playing with my shit
again, but by then I was a lot smarter about it--and about the
world." She winked.
"And then, of course, I became a teacher. And I love it." She
held Melanie's beautiful little face in her hands. "It's brought
us together, after all. My sweet girl...."
Gently pulling, Mrs. Reeves brought Melanie further up on top of
her, until the girl could bend down and kiss her deeply. Mrs.
Reeves wrapped her arms around the girl, sharing her tongue,
emptying herself into the little girl. Melanie kissed her back
just as fervently, dizzy with love, convinced she was the most
precious girl who had ever lived.
Melanie felt her teacher's hands moving down, cupping her narrow
buttocks. Squeezing her ass rhythmically, making sloppy sounds
down there. A large glob of half-dried shit popped out of the
leg of her shorts and slid onto the floor. Melanie suddenly
wanted her teacher to touch her hole the way she had been
touched. The thought made her break off the kiss, jump up, and
rip down her pants and panties.
In her haste, still standing over her teacher, small pieces of
shit were flung out from her panties, raining down all over the
woman. Pieces peeled stickily away from her belly and hips. A
thick brown sludge ran slowly down the insides of her thighs.
Mrs. Reeves gasped and stared as Melanie raised one foot at a
time and stepped out of her things. The little girl's bare cunt
was dripping nastily.
In an instant, Melanie turned around and got on her hands and
knees, her face over Mrs. Reeves' thighs. With what she thought
would be a seductive wiggle of her hips, Melanie shook her skinny
ass from side to side and said, "Please, please, please put your
finger in my hole!"
Then, with a delicious, slow push, Mrs. Reeves did.
"Mmmmmphhhggg!" Melanie grunted, shoving her butt hard against
her teacher's deep finger. At the same time, the girl
instinctively drove her face down between the older woman's legs.
Mrs. Reeves' long skirt was pulled up around her waist, and
Melanie saw immediately what she wanted to do. Her teacher's
soiled panties were still on, covering all the delightful woman
parts within; but the panties were thin cotton bikinis, and they
were saturated and leaking. Everything below the woman's waist
was brown and slimy. Her panties were filled and overflowing
with what Melanie craved.
Gluing her mouth to her teacher's pubic mound, the girl sucked
for all she was worth. She slurped and licked at the panties,
sieving out the nasty shit juice through the cotton and then her
teeth. It tasted more lovely than anything she could have
imagined. Better than her own. So much nastier! So wet and
dripping! Melanie sucked up the liquefied filth in long,
delectable pulls, getting her mouth full of it. Then she pulled
off and swished it around, feeling some of the fine grit,
savoring the moment like the connoisseur she was fast becoming.
Then, with less difficulty each time, she swallowed it down.
Mrs. Reeves, feeling and hearing what the girl was doing down at
her crotch, was beginning to buck her hips and fly off into
another orgasm. The sweet girl's chin continually bumped against
her screaming clitoris every time the child took a big suck. She
was gnawing on her teacher's panties, her teeth raking along the
entire surface of her teacher's labia--through the panty
barrier--every time, and it was sending the woman straight to
heaven. Melanie had no idea what to do to please her, she only
knew what she wanted for herself: to have Mrs. Reeves
finger-fuck her little butthole while she swallowed as much of
her teacher's shitty juice as she could. That made Melanie's
head spin, her stomach churn, and her insides go all warm and
funny. Mrs. Reeves enjoyed it enormously, too.
"Oh, Melanie, sweet girl... I love that. I love that..." the
woman moaned.
Soon Melanie noticed her teacher driving her ass up off the
floor, humping her crotch against the girl's face as she slurped
and chewed. Melanie suddenly got a very naughty idea. The next
time Mrs. Reeves picked her ass up and held it high, as if she
was in a spasm, Melanie quickly hooked her fingers under the
waistband of the woman's panties and yanked. They slid easily
over her ass, greased by the slippery mess that was everywhere.
In a frenzy of tugging, Melanie had them off in mere moments.
Mrs. Reeves, realizing what the girl was doing, urgently lifted
her feet so the panties could slide off. Then she held out her
hand.
"Here--give them here!" cried the teacher, who took the small
drippy garment and immediately pressed it against her face. Tiny
globs of brown kept falling out of the twisted crotch, and the
whole thing had left a gooey trail as it had traveled down the
woman's legs, then back up to her face. Mrs. Reeves smeared the
panties all over her forehead, cheeks, and neck; but her nose and
mouth got it the best. She sniffed and snorted the panties, then
stuffed various sections of the filthy cotton into her mouth,
sucking and chewing. Her eyes were ecstatically rolled back in
her head, her back slightly arched, her crotch beginning to hump
the air more and more.
Melanie turned quickly back to her prize, to see the delicious
mess between Mrs. Reeves' legs. Sure enough, a thick pile of
shit had settled on the floor right against the crack of her ass,
where it had fallen from the panties. In wonder, the little girl
reached down and picked up a great mass of it in her hands. I
can't believe it, she thought. She's just like me.... It looks
just like mine! Melanie clenched her hand in wonder, watching
intently as the slippery brown poop squished out between her
fingers, curled crazily, then peeled and fell off. She could
play with it the same way she played with her own!
Melanie scooped the handful back up, again and again, squishing
it out between her fingers, watching its texture grow smoother
the more it was handled, the bigger and harder lumps softening
and blending in. A sleeve of shitty goo had slid down her wrist
and over the back of her hand. It looked like she wore a shit
glove, her hand was so covered.
How many times had she done this to her own poop? She thought
about the joy--the feral, unchained euphoria--that she always
experienced when handling her own shit. She felt so brave and so
special, like she was in possession of the most prized treasure
in the whole universe, and no one else was smart enough to know
how to get it for themselves. Holding her teacher's nasty waste,
the same happiness flooded through her, and her little body
shuddered over and over.
Finally, inevitably, she raised her defiled hand to her mouth and
opened wide. She ran her tongue all over and around her four
shit-covered fingers, licking her thumb like a popsicle, running
her teeth under her fingernails to scrape out every little bit.
It burned and tingled against her gums and the lining inside her
mouth. Her tongue started to grow numb and thick. It tasted
terrible--it was so sick! But that was exactly what made her
feel so wonderful, so hot and melted and happy inside.
Her little ass bucked wildly against Mrs. Reeves' finger, which
was now barely moving in her at all, since her teacher was so
distracted with her panty sucking. Melanie humped herself
against the finger with more and more force, kneeling above her
teacher, chewing on her teacher's shit, licking her fingers,
moaning a song of pure lust. Mrs. Reeves heard and felt her
student's obvious pleasure and, leaving her panties stuffed
perversely in her mouth, she reached up with her other hand and
found the little girl's clitoris.
Melanie was stunned! Oh, God, what's that? I've touched that
before, but it's never felt so good!
Her entire body was suddenly one gigantic throb of heat. Over
and over, huge surges of pleasure wracked the girl's small frame.
Her hand flew out of her mouth, down to the floor, to help
steady herself. She ducked her head and panted, "Oh--oh--oh!"
repeatedly, as sweat sprang out all over her skin. Mrs. Reeves
flicked her thumb back and forth against the girl's tender
button, crooning to her softly.
Melanie's ten year-old body was ready for its first true orgasm,
but she didn't really know that. She'd never heard of such a
thing. She just knew that it "felt real good" when mommies and
daddies touched each other's private parts. And now she was
playing mommy and daddy with Mrs. Reeves, and she was about to
feel good, too!
Straining her neck, Mrs. Reeves spit out her fouled panties and
opened her brown, drooling mouth. She began to lick on the
little girl's lust-swollen, dirty cunt, savoring the horrid
flavor of Melanie's shitty genitals. And Melanie exploded from
the inside out. There was a blinding moment of hot hard
pleasure, a monumental BANG! that started between her legs and
shot instantly to every part of her. She screamed, surprised,
overjoyed. In violent spasms, Melanie gasped for air and drove
her small pussy back hard against her teacher's expert mouth.
Her anus clenched savagely around the finger that impaled it.
Her toes curled, and every muscle, for the sweetest moment, just
locked up and would not release.
And then she collapsed on top of her teacher, trying to breathe.
* * *
A few minutes later, realizing she'd dozed off, Melanie raised
her head and tried to focus her eyes in the brightly-lit kitchen.
It was hard. The leg of the chair next to her was just this
shining curve of aluminum, oddly soft-looking, gauzy and unreal.
She was so weak all over. Every muscle felt heavy and sore, but
in a nice way.
Smiling, she laid her head back down and closed her eyes. It was
the most contented, the most secure that the little girl had ever
felt. Because her teacher loved her. Because her teacher loved
her and loved shit, and now it was clear that they were meant to
be together. In her romantic fourth-grade way, Melanie began to
dream about what it would be like to be married to Mrs. Reeves.
To be a wicked lesbian like the preacher talked about on Sundays.
Mrs. Reeves' purse was within reach on the floor. Melanie heard
her teacher, still supine, reach out for it and fumble around.
Then the little girl felt a gently stroke of fingers against her
cheek. She raised her head to see a cell phone, held in her
teacher's long, brown-streaked fingers.
"Honey, I've got an idea. Can you dial your house, please?"
Melanie did it without hesitation, smiling to herself as she
watched her own filthy fingertips smudge even more poop onto the
tiny phone. She handed it back to her teacher, then laid her
head back down to listen.
"Hello, Mrs. Hayes? ...This is Mrs. Reeves.... Yes....
Yes...." Melanie could only hear her mother's voice as a
concerned little buzz, far away. She closed her eyes and
concentrated on feeling the vibration of her teacher's voice as
she spoke.
"Melanie is still a bit tender, I'm afraid, but we've done a
great deal of talking, and that's helped her out a lot. Yes....
Well, no, but I've got an idea." Melanie held her breath. Like
any ten year-old girl would do, she concentrated on crossing her
fingers and toes, tight.
"She's gotten so much out of our conversation so far, and she's
interested in talking with me more. Yes.... So my idea is for
her to spend the night with me, so we can stay up as late as we'd
like, and talk about whatever's on her mind." Melanie almost
yelped with glee, but she stopped herself just in time. She felt
Mrs. Reeves reach out and squeeze her slimy leg, in warning.
"You know, like we discussed before, her problems embarrass her
and she just feels like she'll die if she thinks you hear about
them. Yes, I agree.... I think she'll really have a great
chance to come out of this if we can just have some more time,
somewhere that she can be herself.... Yes.... Yes, I've got two
guest bedrooms and a pull-out couch, so we're covered.... No, my
husband is gone out of town until tomorrow.... I know it's a
strange request, but under the circumstances...."
Mrs. Reeves' hand relaxed on her leg, and Melanie could sense a
happy note in her voice. She forced herself to ignore the word
"husband", deciding in an instant that she should trust her
teacher. If Mrs. Reeves wasn't worried about it, she wouldn't
worry about it.
"No, but she can use an old t-shirt of mine.... Yes, I will.
I'll put them in the wash tonight so she can wear them home
tomorrow. Don't worry.... Of course." Suddenly the phone was
thrust back at the little girl, and she grabbed it excitedly.
With all the willpower she could muster, Melanie mastered her
panting breath and managed to speak with the same sad, small
voice she'd used with her mom all week. "Hi, Mommy," she
muttered.
Her mother sounded concerned, but firm. "Sweetheart, do you
really want to spend the night with your teacher?"
"Yes, ma'am," she said immediately.
"Do you feel like she's helping you? I mean, really?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am," Melanie replied, allowing her voice to betray a
fraction of her joy. "I'm so--so, you know..." She was at a
loss, but she did manage to tell the truth. "It's nice to talk
to her."
"Are you going to be all right with her, there by yourself? Do
you feel safe?"
"Oh, Mommy!" Melanie rolled her eyes and, even though they were
still lying head-to-toe, she tried to look back at her teacher
and make her best "Mommy's crazy" face.
Her mother sounded satisfied and relieved. "Well, then it's OK
with us. Just tell Mrs. Reeves we'll call her tomorrow about
picking you up. Maybe she can bring you back over after lunch...
or whatever."
"OK, Mommy," Melanie chirped back. She was sliding one grimy
finger between each of her teacher's long toes, which were still
moistly stained. Little blobs of brown would tumble down the
soles of her feet, leaving nasty, slug-like trails behind. Mrs.
Reeves began to squirm from the tickling, and Melanie could
barely stifle a giggle.
Her mother was ready to hang up. "We'll call you and figure it
out tomorrow, OK?"
"All right," Melanie replied, then, "I love you, too," and the
call was over. She handed the phone back to her teacher, then
wriggled her way down to her teacher's feet. She ran her small
tongue up and down and all the way around Mrs. Reeves' big toe,
then sucked it slowly into her mouth. It nearly gagged her, but
she worked her mouth on it as sensuously as she could, trying to
get all the taste off it at the same time.
She was rewarded with a guttural moan from the other end, then a
mouth on her own little toes. She couldn't help but snort and
groan as she started to suck on Mrs. Reeves' next two toes.
She'd never thought grown-ups would like sucking on toes, but
that was something she could still do to herself--being a
flexible ten year-old girl--and she'd taken a chance that her
teacher's feet would taste just as good as her own. And, from
the woman's response, it must feel just as good, too.
With her head spinning and her body warming back up, Melanie
barely had time to exult over the wondrous night of freedom her
teacher had just won. She could play all night, if Mrs. Reeves
wanted her too! They could try all sorts of things! Quivering,
nearly faint with love and lust and pure little girl glee,
Melanie continued to suck and chew on her teacher's toes, feeling
her own being licked so sweetly, every movement of Mrs. Reeves'
tongue sending hot splashes straight into her crotch.
She loves me, Melanie thought. She's going to be my wife
forever!
Her imagination was flying. She saw her teacher divorcing an
ugly, fat husband, who sadly let them piss all over him as he sat
on that same kitchen floor, dressed in faded sweatpants and a
stained t-shirt. Then they would laugh as he cried and ran out
the door forever. It was wonderful! She could see herself
standing naked in front of a mirror, covered in feces, being
licked from head to toe by her beautiful, loving teacher. She
saw herself licking her teacher's dark, sweet asshole as the
woman squatted above her, farting wetly into her face. She
thought about what it would be like to open her mouth wide and
let her teacher poop right onto her waiting tongue.
Chewing--swallowing! The heaves as she puked everywhere. The
filthy smell and the mess they'd make.
Gasping for breath, Melanie tore her mouth away and snarled,
"We're nasty lesbians, aren't we? Lezzies who eat each other's
shit!"
Without waiting for an answer, the little girl turned back to
devour another one of her teacher's defiled toes. For her part,
Mrs. Reeves only moaned louder and intensified her own efforts.
In no time, the two would find cunt and asshole again, and the
child would have her second orgasm of the night--and of her life.
For an instant, though, she couldn't help herself. The old
worries crept in. Was she really going to hell now? Did the
preacher and her parents have it right? Melanie wondered. Were
some sins so bad that God would forget her forever? Or would God
smile on her anyway? He gave her a body that shits, after all.
He gave her a body with holes to play with. He gave her a mouth
that liked to taste and eat. He gave her a mind that can't stop
thinking about those dirty, dirty things.... Why would He make
her like that if He didn't want her to *be* like that? It just
didn't make any sense!
Then her tongue scooped up a thick smear of shit between Mrs.
Reeves' last two toes, and all the doubt was driven from her
mind. Grunting, sucking, slurping it all down, Melanie knew
without a doubt that she was the luckiest girl in the world. She
silently prayed her happy thanks to God, and then she swallowed
and searched for some more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is welcomed!
bluepervina_AT_earthling.net
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/bluepervina/www/
Copyright 2003 by bluepervina.
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