Return of the Brown Blogger


Weekend At Becky’s

If you go down in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise

Part One: Brown Eyed Bears

Okay, remember how my first scene ended with me throwing up on the camera? Not good, I hear you say. Not so fast, say I. Turns out this was not a career ending move, rather it’s the scat equivalent of the money shot.

Becky is on the phone and enthusing over the ‘up and chuck’ scene.

“Sales of that clip are going great, they all love that POV moment when you introduced them to your lunch. You’re a star, hun!”

Yay me, dad will be so proud. Thing is I am pleased. I’m not rushing to add this achievement to my social media profile, but I’m not knocking it either.

I met up with Becky for lunch. Good news is we like each other. We’re both smart, but we appeal to different tastes. Becky is the Goddess doing unspeakable filth. I’m the girl you take out for a drink and hope to stick your hand down her knickers after a few glasses of cheap plonk. Only this time be careful what you find down there or hope to find.

Anyway, it’s Friday lunch, and both of us are tucking into slices of pizza at the local Mall. It was Becky’s idea that we get together, hang for a couple of days, and shoot some scenes.

“You can stay at mine if you want or book a room when we’re not working.”

I opt for staying at hers, this is the ‘get to know each other’ phase, and I hate cheap hotel chains.

Becky takes another bite of pizza. “You okay discussing this while we’re eating?”

I have a half a pepperoni slice in my mouth, so I just give her a look and continue stuffing my face.

She gets the message. “Okay, some basic pointers. Filling stuff is good. Knickers, pantyhose, bras, leggings, jeans.”

I nod as she runs through it, diet, roughage, different consistency, what’s more popular. Seriously? I’m thinking. There’s like a poop chart of most popular poop? Top of the fucking Poops?

“What do you reckon then?” She finishes.

“Yeah, sounds great.” I mean it’s fifty different ways to crap yourself. “You’ve got this sussed.”

“Yeah. Don’t handle me, Judes.” Her voice dropped a few degrees.

I pause the face stuffing. It was great pizza. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to-” I stopped. I might as well have said ‘you’ve got this sussed, you sicko’. “Sorry.”

Becky shrugged, I could see she was upset. She said: “Look, I know it’s a bit weird, I’m a bit weird, and yes I am into this because you can’t fake this shit, well you can, but I don’t. And yes I am a bit excited about you because I think you’re great and you’ll be good at it and it will be fun to share. So I got a bit carried away. That’s on me.”

I gave a little sigh, abandoned the pizza, and tried to explain.

“I’m just a bit wary, I guess. It’s all new to me, and I haven’t wrapped my head around it. Also, I don’t want to come across as weird either, so I’m like ‘ooh, look at me, I’m Miss Cool’.”

This made Becky laugh. “Fair enough. Why would I think you’re weird?”

This time I felt uncomfortable. “Because I kind of got caught ‘practising’ and it embarrassed me.”

Becky did the right thing with her serious face. “Do you want to share?”

“As long as you don’t laugh or just basically say the wrong thing.”

“Girl Guides honour. Now that would make an awesome clip,” Becky replied solemnly.

“Filthy bitch!” Smiling, I took another bite of pizza and told her.

Rewind to the Friday just after the shoot, Becky and Ken were pleased and said so. I collected £600, and I’m feeling good about life. I’ve had my tea, some wine and was watching the telly. Becky messages to say a promo is now online and can I tell her what I think.

I wasn’t going to look, nope not at all. I lasted five minutes. I clicked the link and see stills of me with the blurb, ‘High Powered Exec is home to the wife and boy does she need to Go!’

The promo is only 30 seconds, but it’s kind of fun as it shows me ‘arriving home’, then this arse hoves into view, like a blimp coming into land. Luckily, I like my arse so no problem and then the weirdest thing, have you ever seen your arse when you shit? It sort of blooms out and bulges and then, well the clip faded out. Now I’m intrigued, I want to see the ‘follow-through’. I could ask Becky for more footage but I’d only just met her, besides where is the fun in that?

The idea of taking a shit in the living room pops into my head. I should video it. Purely to practise, you understand. One large towel, a glass bowl and a propped up phone later, I have my jeans around my ankles, and I’m squatting over the bowl. It’s bizarre almost surreal doing ‘it’ where you shouldn’t. I’m excited, nervous and yeah I found it sexual. Weird huh? And all because of where I’m about to shit. In my front room. Location, location, location.

Anyway, I’m waiting for things to happen, I know they want to happen, but they aren’t so a bit of an anti-climax. Then inspiration hits me. I have some herbal tea which is also a mild laxative, so I brew me a cup, mooch about sinop escort a bit and wait.

I’m kind of on edge, and half an hour drags by, so I try again, and oh, I’m peeing first. That went straight over the towel, but that’s cool.

The pressure in my gut is building, and I know I’m ready. I hover with my bare arse over the bowl, shuffle some sounds on my tablet, check the phone is recording and give a gentle squeeze.

That rumbling sound? Yeah, that’s an avalanche heading to a bowl near you. If I had a cat, it would have run for the hills.

But it was glorious! I had a silly smile on my face as I pooped, spluttered and voided a never-ending stream of mess. Finally, with an apologetic final ‘splurt’ it stopped. The silence was almost reverential. I raised myself and looked behind.

“You’re going to need a bigger bowl, Judes,” I say to myself.

My initial offering lay in a mountain of mess with a glistening peak. The towel had taken some splashback as had the back of my jeans, arse and thighs. I had also forgotten about toilet paper.

Reaching behind, I was wet and messy to the touch. I studied my shit smeared hand while pondering my next move, the phrase ‘dirty girl” reverberating in my head. I liked it. It felt right. I had never been a girly girl. I mean, I liked being a girl, but I wasn’t delicate or fragrant, well not right now anyway.

I came to a sudden decision, pulled up my panties and jeans and wiped my shitty hand on the front of my t-shirt. I was going to stew in my own mess for a bit.

Grabbing another towel and bin liner, I put them on the couch and sat down. It felt a bit damp, a bit slick, it was like sitting in slippery oil. I could get used to this I thought as I pressed play on my phone. Not bad, just got the right angle — oh, my God! My arsehole peeled open, bulged, then out poured a torrent of poop! My heart was racing.

“This is crazy, ” I said aloud, nervous energy fizzing inside me. I’m finding the whole thing funny and hot. Fuck it. I undo my jeans and stick my shitty hand down into my panties and began rubbing myself.

It felt good, I’m fingering shit over my pussy, and loving it. I’m a lost soul. It wasn’t long before I breathed a heartfelt ‘fuck’ as I came. Yeah, that definitely hit the spot. I lay sprawled on the couch thinking I’m probably going to hell for this. My phone rang, it’s my mum, and that’s when it hit me. The reality of what I was doing. I honestly couldn’t answer the phone in this condition. I was mortified, I was ‘shit shamed’.

“Wow,” said Becky. “What did you do next?”

“Cleaned up quickly, then rang mum, and that made me feel worse. Think that’s why I’m a little off. I’m not a prude or anything, I don’t care what people are into as long as it’s not hurting anyone and my mum kind of knows I get my boobs out for money, but this is a big step.” It all came out of me in a rush.

“You’ve done it once though.”

“Yeah, but that was a one-off in my head, and the money was good. It was a job, but now,” I shrugged.

“Now you are worried you may like it.”

I nodded.

“So really it’s about what you think of yourself,” said Becky gently.

Again I nodded, pleased she understood. I’m not big on introspection, but this weighed on me. “How did you handle it?” I ask her.

Becky considered this. “I didn’t handle it. I just enjoyed it. Still do. It’s fun. I like wet sex and scat sex. You’re okay with wet sex, pissing, right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine with that.”

“You do it for fun, not just porn shoots?”

“A few times, one guy I knew was into it big time. It was fun.”

“So what’s the big deal? Least that’s how I see it. If you can’t get your head around it, then okay. It’s a shame because people who are into it I usually don’t like and people I like usually aren’t into it. Apart from Ken and a few dear friends. He’s a good guy. Oh, and you,” she smiled at me.

I felt the same about Becky.

“Okay,” I said. “I like you too, so how about you sort of ease me in. Maybe we shoot some stuff maybe we don’t. Just do what you normally do, and I’ll see how I feel and go from there.

Becky took a huge bite of pizza and gave me a wide smile. “Deal!”

I relaxed after that. We finished lunch, mooched around the shops a bit and had fun. Gets to just gone three and she pulls me aside.

“Okay. We’re doing what I normally do right?”

I nod, and I swear I have a little knot of excitement in my tummy.

“Cool. We have to go for a drive because I need to shit and I know the perfect spot.

We pile into her car, and she heads away from the Mall. “It’s about five minutes from here.”

I nod, I can sense her excitement. She’s giving me little looks like we’re on a date. Yet I know like me she’s into guys.

“You luring me into the woods?” I smile as she pulls up into a small parking area, with a nature trail signposted.

“Definitely luring, come on.”

We scramble out, Becky grabs a little rucksack out of the boot and heads down the trail sivas escort which quickly starts climbing and then she darts off the trail holding my hand.

“It’s my little spot. Always very peaceful.”

We reach the tree line and look out onto the Mall to the left with the main town on the right. It was a lovely view.

“Ken is always on about shooting here, but I refuse. This is my little place.” She sank onto her haunches and patted the ground next to me. “You still in?”

I appreciated her asking. “Yeah. Just do what you have to do.”


Becky was still for a few minutes. Then she pulled up her skirt, hitched her knickers to one side and let out an arc of piss. I look on as she leans back on one hand and then spreads herself.

“Nice,” I said appreciatively, thinking it would be rude not to join in. Besides, outdoor pissing was fun. I hitched up my skirt, and we were soon both laughing as we waved our streams of piss around while doing light sabre sound effects.

Finished we sat back on the grass. She held my eye for a few moments.

“What you thinking?” I ask.

“Honestly? How I am going to shit. Knickers on or off? What mood am I in? What takes my fancy. I enjoy the anticipation,” she smiles. “Yeah, I’m a weirdo.” I can tell she doesn’t mean it.

“Tell you what. Whatever you decide I will do the opposite,” I say impulsively.

“Ooh, that adds a whole new dimension to my decision!” There is a wicked glint in her eye, and as usual, I’ve allowed bravado to overtake my common sense because I know this is going to bite me in the arse.

Becky gets to her feet and looks down at me as I lay there resting on my elbows. “Sorry, babe,” and with that pulls down her knickers and half squats giving me a perfect view of her exquisite arse. I must learn to keep my mouth shut. This is especially true if you are lying next to someone who is about to poop.

I watch fascinated as she starts to push, her cheeks held open, so I get a perfect view. Her arsehole starts to pulse then bloom as a brown monster peers out. Then, this divine creature with a soft, satisfied grunt, births a long shit that is dangling almost to her knees before it breaks and lands with a soft thud next to me. It gasps faint steam and lies there, smouldering with attitude.

Another section falls across the first as if trying to pin it down. Brown smudges mar Becky’s perfect arse as more of her shit pushes through and past her cheeks.

“Oh, that felt good!” she finally exclaimed in satisfaction.

“Yeah, it was kind of fun watching you,” I say as she drops to the grass next to me, her mess between us.

“Really? That’s great!” She smiles and looks at me as if I just passed a test.

Sighing, I get to my feet and adopt the same stance as Becky a sort of half-squat, except I’m keeping my white cotton knickers on.

Thankfully I am ready, and I have no qualms about doing this in front of her. First, we piss, then we shit. No big deal. Not at all. No problemo. Shit! Or rather not to shit, that is the unfortunate question. This isn’t going to happen — oh!

“Lovely,” I heard Becky say, and I feel my knickers suddenly getting heavy as something wet and warm caresses my arse. Again I enjoyed that sense of wellbeing. It was like cumming but not. A weirdly emotional but satisfying release.

Becky sat up, staring at my poop heavy knickers. So far, they were retaining my mess. I look round at her.

“Like what you see?” I ask.

She nodded her eyes fixed on my poop laden rear. I couldn’t resist. Reaching behind, I grabbed her head and pushed her face into my messy mound.

My knickers crack open, and hot streams of poop ran down my legs as I wiped my dirty arse with her pretty face. Little gurgling pleasure sounds escaped Becky as she spluttered in my filth.

“That feel nice, babe?” I ask in a nasty tone.

She gave a little tremor amidst the snuffling.

“Can’t hear you, Becks, what was that again?”

“Yes, it feels gorgeous,” she gasped, coming up for air.

I released her and turned. She was a state. Hair messed up and shit streaked across her face, little lumps of poop starting to run down one cheek.

“Someone is shit faced,” I said, still with that nasty edge to my voice. I’ve gone into Dom mode. It was natural for me as being submissive was for her.

I pull my knickers down and step out of them. They still retained a lot of my shit.

“Take your knickers off, you dirty little shit pig!”

Becky is gone, tipped over the edge by me calling her a ‘shit pig’. Whimpering and shaking she stands and takes off her knickers. They’re clean aside from a smudge.

“And your skirt,” I demand, resisting the urge to slap her.

“Please, no,” she moaned piteously. If it wasn’t for the fact she was fingering herself, I may have eased off.

Turning her skirt inside out, I wiped down the back of my legs then tossed it back to her. Slipping on her knickers, I give myself a check over. Not great, but it will do.

“Wipe tekirdağ escort your face, then put your skirt back on.”

Sniffing Becky wiped her face. In a few minutes, the dynamic between us had flipped, and we were both running with it.

“See my shit filled knickers?”

She nods.

“Scoop up your shit and put it into my knickers.”

Becky bends, scoops up her long turd and places it into my knickers from front to back. I can see she has guessed what is coming next.

“Good, now put them on.”

With a small moan of pleasure, she carefully slips on my knickers, careful not to dislodge any of the mess. A gasp as the foulness hits her pussy.

Grinning, I grip the top of the knickers. “Ready, shit pig?”

“No! You wouldn’t!

Becky braces herself, and with one swift pull, I wedgie the shit filled knickers up her arse and pussy crack. She lets out a pretty and delighted ‘oh’ then clings onto me, shaking.

I hold her for a moment. Becky is tall and slim, and she is quivering like an aspen propped up by a sturdy fence. A fence with great boobs mind.

“Think we need to get back to the car and get you home,” I say softly.

“Yes,” she holds me tightly. “Thanks, Judes.”

I hug her back. “You okay to drive?”

“Yeah, just need to get to the car without being spotted.”

We start to walk back. Becky adopted a tentative, wide stance shuffle, so she didn’t trigger a poop cascade. I giggle at her, “God, you really stink you smell like a sewer.”

Becky flushed. “Do I? Is it really bad?”

“Yeah. You stink like a walking cesspit.”

Her flush deepens, and I can see she is enjoying the humiliation.

“I honestly don’t see how I can share a car with you, I feel like I’m going to be sick from your stench.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help stinking, oh!”

A lump of shit travelled down her leg and wedged on her shoe. She stooped, rescued it and was about to pop it back into her knickers.

“Hand it over!” I demanded.

Wordlessly she put the wet lump into my palm. I reach out and pull up her t-shirt to reveal her bra.

“Left tit or right tit?” I ask sweetly.

Becky is paralysed with indecision. She looks at me in mute appeal.

“Shit for brains too,” I sigh, putting the fetid lump into her left cup and squeezing. “Nice bra.” It was lilac, with lace trim and matched the panties I was wearing. It now had brown sludge oozing out. Wiping my hand on her right tit, I pulled down her t-shirt. “Don’t drop any more.”

She nodded, her eyes had that glassy look, and we trooped back to the car.

“There are more tarps in the boot,” she said. Her car seats already had a detachable covering, so the tarp was extra insurance. I dug out two sheets cut to size. Becky had taken her Girl Guide training seriously.

The tarps installed, Becky carefully climbed in with a heartfelt, ‘oh God,’ as she squished the mess.

She started the car. “It’s about half an hour to my place.”

“Well, you had better get moving because I’m not sure how long I can stand your fucking stink!” I held a cloth I found in the car door well to my face.

“I’m very sorry,” she murmured her voice thick with humiliation, as her trembling legs kangaroo hopped the car back onto the road.

“Whoa girl, get your shit together!” I berate her.

“Sorry, so sorry,” mumbled Becky before settling down.

“Better,” I grumble. “Fuck! I think I’m going to throw up, you filthy fucking pig!” I gleefully kept up a running commentary on her nauseating foulness and Becky oinked her abject apologies all the way home.

Part Two: Stink

Right, everyone back? Fixed a brew? Okay, so where were we? Oh, that’s right, we all went down to the woods today, and we sure got a big surprise, which ended with me travelling back to Becky’s who is absolutely ponging it.

I’m giving her a hard time, and the harder it gets, the more she is loving it because I have tapped into one of her big turn-ons. Smelling. Did you know there is a whole sub-culture devoted to this? Nope, me neither.

Becky lives in a nice three-bed detached house in a very nice road in a very nice area. She parks the car around the back, leaves the windows open and scoots in quick as you like. Trust me, no one is stealing her car in a hurry. You wouldn’t get halfway down the street before passing out.

She shows me my room, then the bathroom for me to clean up because while she is stinking like an open sewer, I’m more of a bad drain. Everything is relative, I guess.

I dump my overnight bag, jump in the shower and reflect that it’s been a good start. My unease over this shit thing has lessened because I’m having fun and there are worse things in life right?

I wrap a robe around me and head for the kitchen. First off, this is a lovely house. Bathroom and kitchen are super modern, all soft closing doors and hidden openings that spring open at a touch. My kitchen, I can barely get the cupboard doors to close. I barely have actual cupboards. The lounge is minimalist with wooden flooring and easy wipe chairs and sofa. There is also a large, ornate chamber pot on a rubber matting. I mean it’s not in the centre of the room, but you can’t miss the fucking thing. It was white, marine blue and shiny.

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