I have you lean against me, the shit is already pushing taught against the seam of your blue jeans and a soft sheen of sweat now covers your naked muscled torso. I feel you tense as you prepare to strain again, you grunt and push and I feel the load increase a little more.
There is not much give in the seat of your pants but you’ve still a very long way to go. Your face is already red with effort and your innocent blue eyes are glassy and somewhat shy. You want to look away but I compel you to remain as you are with a firm slap to your arse. I like the eye contact, it gives me control.
The room is smelling now. A cloying, lingering man stink that you are well aware of. It gives you great discomfort. I can feel your embarrassment, it is a tangible thing. I move my hand, making you wince, your buttocks are firm and muscular and I cup the sensual curve of your tight, shit packed arse and then I start to work at you with my fingers, planting several hard spanks to your rear at the same time.
My fingers push deeply and probe into your crack, fighting their way against the thick and increasingly sticky material. At first I feel resistance from you and the heavy contained bulk but as I work slowly, circling deeper in you both start to give.
I feel you squirm as another powerful wave hits you and you groan and struggle to release more of the cloying, clay like mess into your unyielding pants. You want to cross your legs to lessen the pain and push away from me. This bowel movement hurts. It is thick and hard and solid. I hold you firm, legs forced apart and plant yet another hard crack to your backside, knowing that whatever you try, you will not be allowed to hold back from this humiliating but long overdue messing.
Your knees bend very slightly and you are forced to expend great effort with almighty and very self-conscious pushing against my body. You are desperate to go. Desperate to be allowed to finish, you gasp and groan and your muscles are tense.
My fingers manipulate you. They massage and push against your sore spanked arse, they impede the slow but ceaseless cascade forcing and thrusting itself into your overtight shorts and pushing ever up towards and around your large and hairless cock and balls. The smell is overpowering. I tell you you stink, whisper it into your ear, my stubble rubbing against your soft facial skin.
I lean in very close to you and you can feel my hot breath against your face. It is difficult for you being held this closely and watched as you perform your most intimate bodily function. You would rather not be here.
You strain. I note a vein protruding very slightly from your stunningly handsome, angelic even, forehead, you gasp and your pallor changes ever so slightly from red to purple. The grunt is low pitched and labored, masked by a long, stream of stinking gas released from your dirty hole. It reverberates against my arm. You hold onto me, your puppy dog eyes imploring me to let this end for you and I feel your stomach gurgle. Push is all I say. To make it more difficult I stand you back upright, you try to break away. That was foolish.
I land my hand hard against the seat of your pants, once, then twice and although the impact is softened by the squelching of your shit, you cry out, you are really already so sore, your arse blistered by my firm hand. You will be made to finish. You will not remain constipated.
I pull you onto my chair and down once again across my lap. Although you are not much smaller than me, and in bulk probably bigger, I still manage to lay you completely down. I raise your legs and pull them back and in towards your chest revealing your tight filled jeans and shit encrusted arse. Vulnerable, I break you, Whap, whap, spank, smack, smack, crack, smack, smack. I watch you closely and make you push and strain and grunt, always having to maintain eye contact. You look back at me with your red and contorted face.
Fuck this hurts so much you cry.
Although this is difficult for you, you want to please. I watch the sweat trickle down your cheek as you bare down with effort, grimacing up at me. I watch as the colossal lump grows solid and steadily around your backside, tenting the denim and turning it a distasteful yellow brown. Placing my hand against this mess, I whisper “You stink”. At the front of your jeans, where your buttons are, your manhood grows yet again. I bury my face into your shit smothered arse and smell you deeply.
You continue to strain and load, although you are sore from pushing and I meanwhile work you at the front and slap your arse hard with my free hand. I grab and massage you through the cloth. I mush the sticky, stinking mess while you still squirm. The warm and cold feel of your shit mingled together, you find both hateful and yet strangely arousing. I sense an ending getting closer. One further, foul, loud fart from you, and a concerted vocal, effort to fully evacuate once clogged bowels finishes the deed and I feel your immense relief.
I continue to deeply probe your covered arse, my fingers gyrating, mushing, smearing and pulping what had been a thick and solid painful lump into an oozing goo of paste like consistency. This time you actively open your legs to give me ease of access. A dozen or more firm and tightly gripped thrusts against both your gorging, pulsating and rigid manhood and your firm and massive arse at last produces an ecstasy like spasm-ing from deep within you. Finally you are finished – cum to me. I lean down and we embrace sensuously.