All the Young Girls Love Laura Pt. 01

"Okay, gotta go, mom, I have a conference call. I love you," I concluded.

"I love you too, dear, more than you'll ever know...and I'm sure I'll love your wife, once you find her."

"Mom!" I said, but she'd already hung up. "I guess it could be worse," I sighed out loud.

I arranged to meet with Melissa at a local coffee shop later that week. Her mother showed me several current pictures, Melissa was very pretty, medium height, with short hair, a little plump like me, and very sweet. She was certainly the kind of girl that turns me on, but it didn't look like this was going to be that kind of arrangement. That was fine with me, business is business, right?

"Hi, Melissa?" I said to the girl seated in the booth at The Daily Grind, texting someone on her phone. She looked up and smiled, and my heart skipped a beat. She was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. I almost gasped.

Then I stepped back a little bit, in my mind, and began breaking the picture down. Facially, she was pretty, as her pictures had shown, but hardly even model looks. What made her so beautiful was her smile, both on her lips but especially in her eyes. She had the friendliest, do anything for you smile I had ever seen on a real human being, not counting politicians.

She must have had to fight off suitors by the dozens, both male and female - at least, if there's any justice and reason in the world. I could even feel myself developing an instant crush on her.

"Hi, Laura?" she responded. "Please, sit down, my mom told me all about you."

Really? All? I thought. Time to test that theory.

"She told you that I'm a lesbian, and that I satisfy women sexually for money?" No point in beating around the bush.

She laughed. "Well, yes...she said you do that, but that she wanted you to talk to me about achieving perfect sensuality and the perfect orgasm." Her smile was still dazzling.

"Do you mind if I order some coffee?" I said. I'd need something to settle myself down with this one.

"No, please, I'd like some more, too."

We settled in with our coffee - both of us drinking coffee, not milk with something in it - which I took as a good sign. She seemed a little more adult to me that way, even though she was 18 and not all that much younger than my 20. I asked her about her fiancé, and she told me the usual stuff - how he was working at his dad's plant, he was nice, he liked to go out drinking with his friends but not too much, yadda yadda.

The whole time she was talking, my eyes went from her eyes to her lips to her tongue when it would occasionally peek out between her sweet lips to her bangs when she'd brush them out of her eyes to her delicate fingers with a really pretty fingernail design with little shooting stars to the little dimples in her cheeks she was constantly getting when she'd smile to her breasts when the fabric of her blouse would crease there when she moved to her ears when sometimes she'd pull her hair back over her ear to her throat as she moved her head up and down a little to her green earrings that looked like little owls sitting on the bottom of the hoop earring like a bird in a cage to the ring she wore on the ring finger of her left hand.

Which stopped me dead and I had to start over again.

The whole time I was listening to her and responding, but it was almost like a dream. I had it bad for her. It was a very unsettling feeling to lose control over my emotions, but I think I concealed it from her well enough, though she did look at me a little strangely once or twice during our chat.

She was surprisingly receptive to the idea of learning more about the female orgasm, if not necessarily giving permission to allow herself to have one. But she agreed that she would come over to my apartment the next weekend for dinner and we could take it from there.

"We can take as long as you need, a couple of days, if necessary," she giggled. I could only smile, then sigh. There was nothing I desired more than to see her orgasm in my arms, but that wasn't the deal that I'd made with her and her mother.

Chapter 3

Trying to put the upcoming weekend out of my mind, the next day I went to my ten o'clock appointment with Sharon Cox, wife of one of the city's aldermen. She was extremely influential, and probably one of the reasons that I rarely felt any heat from the police, although I wasn't exactly zoned for woman on woman fucking for dough.

Sharon didn't require any nuance or subtlety, she was all about females fucking each other, with some spice thrown in, especially water sports and scat. I could forget about mooning over Melissa and just fuck as nasty and dirty as she felt like. It's really pretty freeing when you can have days like that. I had dressed in a rather short blue sundress with no bra or panties. That might tell you something about the sex-to-romance ratio in our arrangement.

"C'mon in," she said, pulling me inside and slamming the door shut. She was in great shape for a 45 year old, but her husband was something else. She'd been the trophy wife years ago after he dumped his first wife, when he'd made it in politics (and graft.) He was 70 now, fat and for her sake, I hoped that he'd lost most interest in sex. But she certainly hadn't, and while she might have been fucking other girls or even guys on the side, I think she enjoyed it most with me.

We kissed by the door, and she pulled me into her nicely decorated living room, offering me a glass of some really expensive wine. It tasted great, but I was on the clock so I didn't want to overdo it, I just wanted to leave her as happy as possible. To steal an expression, "Happy Wife, Happy Life" - for me, anyway. It's just that it's me making the wives happy, not their husbands.

And it's profitable, too.

As we sat and talked, across from each other, I slowly opened and closed my legs. She loved to be teased, and she'd lick her lips every time my legs parted. I could feel myself getting wet and I had no doubt that she was soaking wet already herself. She offered me some more wine, and when she brought it to me she lingered over me, her hand on my shoulder, then leaned down to kiss me.

"Drink some more, I have an idea," she said. I didn't know what she had in mind, but did as she asked and we finished that bottle, and then she opened another. After about a half hour of conversation and wine, I was starting to get really sloshed in spite of myself.

"Honey, I have to pee," I said. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, baby. Do you mind if I come along?" I smiled at her. She was the client, she could do pretty much whatever she liked.

"Use the bathroom off the master bedroom," she said. That was a big, big bathroom with bidet, sunken tub, big walk in shower...it was nearly the size of my apartment.

"Amazing," I said. The size and grandeur of it got me every single time I saw it.

"So?" she replied.

"It's just amazing to me that so much money can go into pooping. peeing and bathing," I said, raising up the toilet cover. There was little else for me to do, sans panties and wearing a short skirt. As I sat down, she did surprise me, pulling off her slacks and panties, and sitting on my lap, facing me.

"Hello," I said, laughing. It was a good thing for me that she was so petite. She spread her legs a little.

"I have to go, too," she said, kissing me with a long, lingering wine-flavored kiss that I enjoyed immensely, and that almost drove thoughts of Melissa out of my mind. Almost.

"You first," she said, letting her hand drop down between both our thighs, her fingertips brushing against my pussy.

"You make it kind of hard to go," I said, grinning at her. Her fingers felt good stroking my labia.

"You're good at your job, baby," she whispered seductively. "And I want you to pee on my hand."

"Yeah?" I said. It wasn't the first time for Sharon - or me. I shrugged and concentrated on peeing. A few dribbles came out, then a harder little stream.

"Mmm, that feels nice," she said then kissed me again. That stopped my stream again.

She laughed. "Aww, here, maybe this'll help." She closed her eyes and a jet of hot piss shot out of her onto my clit.

"You like that, baby?" she asked, as my own flow started again.

"Yeah," I grunted.

"Good...now stop yours...hold your pee."

"Really?" I whined. "Do you know how hard that is, once I get going?"

"I don't care," she said. "Hold it until it burns." I did as she ordered, and it did sting to hold in my pee once it had started. But she continued pissing on my clit, and I felt my excitement growing at such a perverse way to be stimulated. Her lips and mouth on mine felt divine as pleasure grew inside me.

"Oh fuck," I moaned. "I'm cumming." I felt her dripping wet fingers enter me and her thumb begin to stroke my clit. I struggled to hold my bladder but I was cumming madly while her fingers and tongue fucked two of my openings.

"God, yes, fuck me," I moaned, the sweet pleasure of climax vibrating through me, opening me up to any further perversion she had in mind. I shuddered and squeezed Sharon into me, enjoying the feel of her warm, soft body on mind. I lingered in the warmth of her body, a little out of it, the tight sting at my urethra still there.

"I didn't piss," I promised her.

"Good, baby...let's get on the floor, but take off your dress." My sun dress had fortunately avoided getting wet from Sharon's hot piss, so I stripped it off and laid it on a counter, as she stripped off her blouse and bra so that we were both naked. Sharon opened up a cabinet filled with what looked like dozens of plush towels, and spread them out on the marble floor like a little nest for us, then laid down on her back.

"Let's do a 69," she said. I had no objection to licking her pussy after she'd just pissed, I really don't have a problem with playing with piss with a woman. I lay on top of her, taking most of my body's weight on my elbows and knees. I felt Sharon licking my pussy - so divine - but I still had the urge to pee.

I brought my mouth to Sharon's own, meaty pussy - she has quite prominent outer labia, what the crude call 'meat flaps,' and took each one in turn in my mouth, sucking on them, her taste salty and hot and musky, and so good. She groaned with pleasure.

"Piss in my mouth," she moaned. I knew better than to delay her pleasure, and I let loose with a hot stream of golden piss into her wide open mouth and over her face and upper body, as she crooned with delight. "God yesss," she hissed, and she dribbled out a little stream of her own pee that I licked at in a desultory way. I'm not into drinking it the way she is, but a little bit won't hurt - Ghandi used to drink it, after all. And he was a lot smarter than me.

Sharon's thighs quivered under my arms as she orgasmed again and again. I couldn't remember her being more excited. Her mouth was working her way through my gusher of piss and I felt her lips fasten onto my clit, electricity shooting through me as I too orgasmed, my hips shifting around as I tried to distribute the sweet ecstasy that was filling and expanding my pulsing clit.

"Oh geezus," I moaned, inadvertently pressing my hips onto her face as she spluttered, spraying my pee around. "Oops," I said. "Sorry."

"Oh darling, no offense taken," Sharon giggled, lapping at my pussy again. "Did you cum?"

"That was a rhetorical question, right?" I said.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, giggling again. "Laura, could I ask you a really big favor?"

"Um, what?" I said.

"Um...would you shit on me?"

"Would I what?" Truth to tell, I was expecting something like this eventually, and Sharon was my leading vote getter to be the first. She'd mentioned it as something that she'd "read about," and how "interesting" it sounded to her. I'd already considered it, and had arrived at a decision quite a while before.

"Why?" I asked.

"I think it would be hot...I've already experimented with my own poop, and it's getting boring. I want to see, and feel, and smell you take a dump on me."

"Please don't tell me you want to taste it, too," I thought to myself. I'm not ready for that yet.

"Um, let me see if I even can," I said tentatively.

"Oh good," Sharon exclaimed, knowing that she'd won that decision. I blame the Internet for that sort of thing.

"Look, you must never speak of this to anyone," I said sternly, "if anything even happens."

"I promise," Sharon replied, her hand busy on her cunt, fingers flying. She's such a kid sometimes. A really perverted, but kind of fun, kid.

"Squat over me," she directed me. I stepped over her prone body, astride her, then lowered myself until my naked butt was over her stomach as I faced her. "No, I want to see your bottom, turn around."

I sighed, and did as she directed, a little embarrassed. After all, no one had ever watched me poop before other than my mom when I was potty training, and Sharon was really watching. I gave a little push and nothing happened other than a few hot dribbles of my pee, but in that position I could feel things moving around and then an actual urge to poop. A slight urge only, but an urge nonetheless.

Then I farted and we both giggled. "Mm, smells good," Sharon moaned.

"Geez, you are such a perverted...pervert," I said, only half serious.

"Oh god..." I murmured. I could feel it starting. There's a kind of erotic quality to pooping - apart from involving someone else. The feeling of fullness in a highly sexually sensitive area, the passage of a large object through a tight opening, the feeling of release and freedom once the object is done with you, the air of filthiness and shame that is associated with both pooping and sex itself - it's a wonder to me that poop doesn't become even more involved in our lovemaking.

Sharon had now made that sexual connection real in my mind with her demand to be shit upon, and there was no turning back for me. I felt the erotic charge of shitting, and my hand flew to my own cunt, fingers strumming my clit, orgasm coursing through me, shit forcing itself through my conflicted and confused anal sphincter - it was one of the strongest and most extreme climaxes of my life.

"Oh geezus fuck, I'm cumming...I'm shitting..." The sensation of a slimy but rough turd rubbing against my rectal walls like some kind of organic subway car passing through a suddenly too small subway tunnel shot hot jolts of pleasure through my anus to my clit and then on to my brain - overloaded, full of the most exquisite pleasurable delight.

I heard the small plop as the turd, long and snakelike, though warm and sensual, hit Sharon's breasts and curled itself comfortably as if taking ownership of her, like a cat resting curled on its recumbent owner.

"Oh fuck, Laura, it's so fucking hot!" Sharon exclaimed. "Your asshole is opening, opening...a tiny brown spot growing bigger...bigger...fat, such a fat turd forcing your hole wide, wide...oh the smell, so delightful," she gasped. Her hands went to my side, stroking me as if to coax more of my delicious, fragrant shit offering onto her, my gift for her use and pleasure.

I came, over and over, body shuddering as the shit flow seemed endless, as though my body conspired to empty itself of every ounce of waste magically converted in its passage into umber pleasure between two lovers. I almost could see at that moment the compulsion to eat someone's feces hot from their body, to make one with oneself that part of another.

Sharon was moaning, her body twisting from side to side as she, too, came, orgasms popping off inside her like a string of firecrackers thrown at my feet. "Fuck, fuck, fuck your shit is so hot, so tasty wonderful I want to fuck myself with your turd baby, shove that hot filthy female cock up my dirty twat cum cum cum..."

We were both trapped like that for long minutes, locked into a seemingly unending cycle of orgasms - dirty thought - orgasms that neither of us would have stopped even at the risk of death. I won't make the perverse comparison of shitting on someone as equivalent to going to heaven, but I am at a loss to come up with any other adequate comparison.

Finally though, I felt the last of the turd pass through my sphincter, the wonderful sensation of completion, of amazing emptiness now at my bowels, the air around me dank and redolent of a sewage treatment plant, yet still somehow erotic and exciting. I looked around to Sharon, her hands busy smearing slimy brown waste all over her front, her breasts, stomach and upper thighs resembling a portrait of a nude attacked by an insane fingerpainting kindergartener.

Her face, too, had wide streaks of brown on her cheeks, her smile up at me excited and complete. "Come kiss me, Laura, I want us both to be covered in your wonderful sweetness." I think she really was insane at that point - with pleasure, to be sure - and nothing would be beyond her. I would have to be careful.

I slowly and tentatively swung myself around, and lay on her, her hot, moist and slimy body feeling so odd on mine, aware that I was now coating myself in at least a thin film of my own shit. Our faces close, the odor so rank and foul, nonetheless exciting, our mouths came together, lips caressing, tongues dancing together excitedly and so intimately.

It was an amazing, hot, sensual kiss, sharing our perversion and love - for pleasure, if not each other. An intimate bonding of two women lowered to their basest level, stripped of all pretense of dignity. Primitive lust and desire sated on a bathroom floor. It was one of the strongest emotional experiences of my life up until that point.

Our kiss lasted forever, an eternity of lust and desire, of need for more and more perversion, which I recognized as the trap I needed to avoid. It would have been so easy to become even more base, more perverse, and lose oneself in constant degradation, but that wasn't what I wanted or needed. Still, there were things we could do to continue the pleasure...

"I want to eat your cunt," Sharon moaned. The idea was enticing.

I twisted my body around so that we were in a 69, our wet, slimy bodies easing our movement. Her pussy was swollen, red, hot and literally dripping with her excited vaginal fluid, creamy and clear. My tongue dipped inside her, her slit open wider than normal, my cheeks coating with her lube as I sunk into her hot sweetness, wallowing in her feminine moisture and musk.

I could feel her avidly kissing and licking my pussy, her tongue doing indescribably sweet things to me, shivers of ecstasy running through my thighs as she stroked along my labia, around my clit and dipped her tongue deep inside my own hot well of pleasure.

We licked and sucked each other to more orgasms, cumming in each other's grasp, until fatigue alone stopped us. I slithered down off her body, then sat up and looked at her. "Wow," I said.

Sharon grinned at me. "That's why you're the best, Laura," she said. "You've got an open mind to new things."

"Yes, well, I don't think I want to do that every day," I said, perhaps a little self righteously.

"Wait until I train you to eat shit," she laughed.

"That's where I draw the line," I said, not smiling.

"We'll see," she laughed. She ran a finger up between my ass cheeks, and popped it in her mouth and sucked on it.

"Eww," I said. "Um, how about a shower?"

"Sounds nice," she said. "Can we follow it with a nice, hot romantic bath?"

"Oh, lovely," I said.

I wish I could say that the shower was filled with finger fucking and pussy licking, but I was getting paranoid about the smell of shit on me. Sharon could do as she liked with the cleanup of her house, but I wanted her and me to smell like women when I left. Luckily she had some soft nailbrushes we could use to help scrape off the stench of my poop from our bodies, and I made her brush her teeth three times and use mouthwash before I'd kiss her again.