His shit-hole was all there was, and my head was in the darkest of golden defeats, lolling, savoring, tasting.
My crazing eyes reacted, even before he spoke.
-Open up your damned mouth, Prop. Here is for keeping you hungry. Take it, shit-eater.
His hole had started to spread-wide again, and he helped it to spread even wider with his hands. I felt myself shrink when I saw how that next turd protruded from his shit-hole. I tried to ease it out with my tongue, but he pushed me away and steadied my mouth right under it. Its waxing size - This was going to be the killer. my doggy eyes’ focus changed between that and my master’s eyes. His expression confirmed it: he was giving birth to our future. My asslicking tongue may have impregnated him, now to establish our levels for times to come. our baby was on its way, on its way from his shit-hole of a womb and a womb of a shit-hole - father and mother both. he was producing the never-to-change fact of our relation: by humbly eating this large, glimmering product of his bowels I would proclaim myself the inferior: the shit-eater, HIS shit eater.
He didn’t let it fall into my mouth. No-no, he lowered himself even more. And I felt that brown killer, that huge relation establisher sink down my mouth and throat until finally his ass landed on my lips, and by contracting his muscles he let go of it with a sigh. And it was all mine, to devour and contemplate on.
I squatted down over him, holding my cock and balls against my belly to keep the direct visual contact and to keep free sight over his gap. The flickering candle-light, his hot submissive eyes and his wide-open hungry jaws.
(There should have been a camera.)
That was a great moment there on the kitchen-floor, some kind of sacred expectancy.
An expectancy of the sacramental realization of the black mass.
The “Drink” - this is my yellow piss was completed. Now - the brown substance. My eyes into Prop’s. my nodding head as a confirmation of the impending climax of our Communion.
Prop gazed intently into my now gaping shit hole. And his eyes as well as my own senses told me how the turd - the second one, the one that would count - slowly left my interior, and hot and heavy forced its way further and further out of me.
. towards his mouth, where his tongue now anxiously worked over his lips. In the stillness our heaving chests. (Hey, Prop! Hero-worshipping again? And this time with no return? How you had pleaded, proclaiming that this was what would ultimately bind you to me, the navel-string never to be cut off when once and for all it linked us together.the definitive demonstration of your subservience - my waste - you - my refuse-heap.
. your proof of belonging, your belonging to me!)
Lowered my ass still more when I felt the turd on its way to fall from me, and your lips clung to my hole. And you sucked hard! You were sucking hard, Prop.
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