Dirty Running

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Please note that this story contains scat (shit) play that, I appreciate, is not to everyone’s taste! For those who are open to this fetish, please enjoy and, as always, let me know what you think.


Now I sit down to write my tale I hit that ‘Where do I start?’ problem. I’d like to start with some wonderful, engaging and entertaining opening paragraph that drops you, my dear reader, into the thrill and excitement of my life… but who am I kidding: my life is extremely short of thrill and excitement. Apart from that afternoon three months ago and as that is the story I want to tell I can hardly begin in the middle of that – it wouldn’t make any sense for a start! So: it looks like I shall have to start with the good old and ever popular ‘brief biography’ opening…

My name is Emma-Jane, Em or Emmy to my friends. I am 25, I have red hair, pale blue eyes and the pale, freckled complexion that inevitably seems to accompany such colouring. Needless to say, tanning is something that happens to other people. My figure is 36C – 28 – 38 and 5 foot 3 tall, which makes me quite curvy. I was a very chubby child and teen – okay, I was fat, alright? – and remained overweight until a few years ago. Being overweight I was often teased and called names, which made me shy. I realised that I was gay when I was around 15: it was girls that caught my eye and my fantasies. However, coming out was never going to happen at school or college – why give the bullies yet more ammunition? And anyway, who’d have wanted to be with a wobble bottom like me?

This changed when a diet club was set up at work; something just clicked and I really went for it, losing lost 4 stones (nearly 60 lbs) in 18 months. I started to exercise and began running regularly and have kept the running going and the weight off. I try to run three times a week; and at that time one of my regular runs was to bring my running kit into work on a Friday and to run home afterwards. I also have quite a thing for Lycra (that’s Spandex for those of an American persuasion), not only the look of it but also the feel of wearing it. I love the way it hugs the body, making you feel almost naked whilst still clothed! I guess I also have an exhibitionist streak in me.

I lived then (as I still do now) in a two bed mid-terrace house with Helen, a very attractive girl a year or so older than me. She is a very happy, bubbly girl with dark hair, hazel eyes and a Mediterranean complexion the opposite of mine. We are of a similar height but she is a little slimmer than me. I thought she was stunningly attractive, something regularly brought to my attention by her laissez-faire attitude to clothing such as her habit of wandering around in just her panties first thing in the morning. Alas, she was also, as far as I could tell, completely straight. Not that I was going to make a move on her or even admit my orientation – I did not want to risk our friendship nor the house that we had been lucky to find and could only just afford together.

And now, dear reader, we can begin the story proper: Once upon a Friday 13th…

I’ve never been one for superstition but on this particular Friday 13th it seemed that various other Emma-Janes in past lives or parallel universes were going around breaking mirrors, walking under ladders and kicking black cats while all the accumulated misfortune was being visited on me! The kettle broke so Helen and I both had to go without tea that morning. The bus broke down on the way to work so I had to walk – in the rain! My boss was in a foul mood from the start and my being late didn’t help. Neither did the printer breakdown that meant I couldn’t print off the report he was so desperate for. At lunchtime, a colleague managed to empty his coffee half over my lunch and half over me. Fortunately, being Friday, I had my running kit with me so at least I could change out of the wet, stained clothes. However, having to keep explaining why I was wearing Lycra leggings, a running vest and running shoes did nothing to improve my day.

Out of sheer frustration and the need to let of steam I sent Helen a text:


I knew Helen was going out right after work to some kind of retirement or leaving celebration at a pub near her office, so she wouldn’t be home till late. I pressed SEND and was just putting my phone in my pocked when it gave three sharp beeps. I looked at it in time to see the battery flat symbol as the phone shut down. Damn, no phone. Needless to say, no one in the office that day had a phone charger I could use.

By the time 5 o’clock came around I was desperate to get the hell out of there, hoping that the run would help dispel some of the stresses of the day, particularly as the weather had cleared up and the sun was shining. I vaguely needed the toilet but decided it could wait for the 40 minutes it would take to get home and headed out the door.

As bursa üniversiteli escort so often, the first five minutes were an effort as I started to breathe heavily. However, press on and you find your rhythm, and so my breathing settled. It’s not the most scenic of runs but in the early evening sun the trees and occasional flowers glowed prettily and I began to feel the stresses of the day fall away. Another five minutes passed happily but then I felt a rumble in my gut and my need to poop returned. I ran on, trying not to think about it.

I was now just over halfway home and things were getting uncomfortable. My arse had that full feeling and I was regretting not going before I set off. Another rumble a few minutes later and the full feeling increased: there was definitely a feeling of pressure in there. I tried to think of what I could do but nothing suggested itself. I was now running along residential streets which, despite the sun, were deserted.

By the time there were only three or four hundred metres to go, the need to poop was becoming unbearable. I tried to increase my pace, more than a little keen to get home quickly, but found it hard to do while still holding on. I was aware that I was running with an odd gait and looked around to check that no one was around to see me. There wasn’t but the good fortune was short lived and I tripped on a tree root that had split the pavement. I desperately tried to regain my balance and avoid falling but as I did so I felt, with horror, a sticky warmth filling the arse of my leggings.

I had shit myself! Worse, it seemed that now the flow had started, I struggled to stop it. I felt the fabric bulge and I couldn’t help pressing my hand over the lump and pushing it back, trying to conceal it. The filthy mess of my shit now filled my bum crack and squelched and oozed as I kept running. I was hugely embarrassed but at the same time the feeling of the hot, gooey mess against my skin was an intensely sensual experience. I recognised the tingle in my pussy: my God! This was actually turning me on! I tried to tell myself that I must be sick but I couldn’t deny that I was also aroused.

I finally arrived home, fumbling with the key to open the door before stumbling though and quickly pushing it shut behind me. Safe at last!

I kicked off my shoes in the small hallway and went straight up the stairs, pulling off my running vest as I went. My sports bra followed and I threw both vaguely in the direction of my bedroom door as I entered the bathroom where I sat on the edge of the bath to remove my socks. I could smell the stink from my befouled arse but this merely seemed to add to my excitement. As I sat and leant forward I felt the sticky mass of poop squeeze forward over my pussy. Without thinking my hand went between my legs, cupping and massaging my now shit covered mound. I was feeling as horny as hell.

Still in my leggings and lay down on the floor my hand groping my pussy through the fabric. I was no longer thinking: I was possessed by my arousal as the filthiness of what I was doing inflamed me. My hand slipped inside my leggings and I felt the shit as it smeared my hairless pussy. I pushed my leggings down for better access. My hand travelled further down, caressing my arse and fingering my anal bud.

I still needed to finish pooping, so I bore down. My finger felt my ring pout and open. More of the wonderful, hot and sticky shit flowed out, filling my hand. Now my hand came back up and rubbed the shit over my tits and tummy. My other hand slid down catching a last turd, which I lathered over my pussy, coating my swollen labia and massaging the shit against my hard clit. I was panting hard, moaning and gasping as my lust and depravity drove me onwards.

I revelled in the stink and mess, thrusting three brown and shit coated fingers deep into my gaping cunt. I began to finger fuck myself, hard and fast, the shit and my wetness making sloppy squelching sounds. I could feel my orgasm building and, much as I wanted these feelings of intense pleasure to last, my arousal would brook no slowing down.

My climax hit me like a train; it’s intensity like nothing I’d ever experienced before. My pussy exploded as my cum jetted out – another first for me. I was racked with pleasure, when…

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Though the voice struck me like iced water, I still struggled to return to the here-and-now. Groggily I raised my head from the floor and opened my eyes, looking towards the open bathroom door. There at the top of the stairs, with a look of utter amazement, shock and horror on her face, was Helen.

“Helen, I…” was all I managed to say before she fled, her bedroom door slamming shut with a depressing finality. “Fuck!” I sighed.

I looked down at my body, brown from tits to crotch. Despite what had just happened part of my brain still found it an amazingly erotic sight. I felt the stirrings again within my pussy but escort bayan stamped down on them as I stood and turned on the shower. Looking down I saw that the floor was also a mess; this was going to take some clearing up.

I showered, the shit sloughing from my body in thick rivulets and lumps that kept blocking the plughole. Gradually I became clean, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. However, a faint muskiness remained on my skin as a reminder of what I’d done, even after soap and shower gel. I took my leggings and rinsed those too in the shower.

Opening the windows to air the room, I tackled the floor and the rest of the bathroom leaving it the cleanest it had been for some time. I knew that I was trying to make it up to Helen by doing this. I also knew that it was almost certainly futile. How could she bear to share a house with a girl who gets her rocks off covered in her own excrement?

I pulled on a long tee shirt before I went down stairs. I dumped my running kit into the washing machine and turned it on then lit some scented candles and boiled water in a saucepan to make tea. I took a mug upstairs and knocked on her bedroom door. “Helen?” I called gently. “I… it’s… look, I sorry. I, I didn’t think you be back until late.” God, I thought, that sounds like I’d deliberately planned it knowing she’d be out. “No, I mean, I just sort of happened. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry!”

“I came back early because you were having such a bad day; I texted you to tell you. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Helen, please…”

“Leave me alone, Em! Please.”

“Okay,” I replied reluctantly. “There’s a cup of tea out here, if you want it.” I turned and went to my room, throwing myself down on the bed. I realized I was weeping, tears running silently across my cheeks and onto my pillow.

I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes it was dark. I opened my door and saw Helen’s was still shut, though the tea had gone. Retrieving my phone I plugged it in to charge and after a few minutes I was looking at Helen’s reply to my text, Friday 13th’s final kick in the teeth:


I lay on the bed, worn out but unable to sleep and at a loss as to what to do. I looked at the alarm clock’s glowing numbers just as 11:59 blinked into 0:00 – Midnight and Friday 13th was finally over. I must have relaxed seeing that for I drifted back into sleep.

When I woke again it was to the sound of birds and the morning sun slanting through my window. The clock said 5:17am so I lay there with that vague, muzzy-headed feeling of just having woken. However, I was too hungry to lie in bed. Actually, I was starving so I got up and wandered down stairs to the kitchen.

Looking in the fridge I found a packet of bacon and my stomach growled in hungry anticipation. With the bacon starting to sizzle and its aroma filling the kitchen I took out bread and I turned on the kettle – which of course didn’t work. With a crash yesterday’s events came flooding back. I bit my lip and leaned against the table for support. Oh God, what was going to happen today?

“Morning, early bird!” Helen’s voice behind me made me jump. “Mmm that smells nice, is there enough for me?” I looked over my shoulder and there she was, stood in the doorway in her usual morning lack of clothing: just a skimpy pair of pale yellow panties.

“Er, yes, sure,” I replied, thoroughly confused by her manner but adding more bacon to the frying pan. “Tea?” I asked, conscious that my bum was visible below the tee shirt.

“Mmm, yes please,” she answered, sitting down at the table.

Bewildered, I made breakfast for us. I was certain yesterday had happened and my skin still carried that faint, earthy scent as proof but Helen seemed determined to pretend it hadn’t. I had no desire to upset her further, so if that was what she needed then I was prepared to go along with it.

A few minutes later I leant across the table and placed a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea in front of her. Before I moved away she kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said and started eating.

This was getting bizarre, so I fetched my tea and sandwich and sat down next to her. I thought I wouldn’t be able to eat but after the first bite my body decided differently and we ate in silence. As I paced the last piece of my sandwich in my mouth I saw that Helen was watching me. I chewed and swallowed quickly. “Helen, I just…”

“Hush,” she cut me off and took my hand. “Emmy, which are you: gay or bi?”

“Huh?” was all I could manage. If yesterday had been a nightmare, today was becoming a surrealist dream.

“Why is it that people always think that the person they keep eyeing up doesn’t notice? Em, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes!” She squeezed my hand in reassurance at the look escort bursa of shame on my face. “Don’t worry! Do you think I’d be walking around like this if it upset me? Actually, I’m flattered that a cute girl like you should find me so attractive. I just wondered whether you are lesbian or bisexual.”

“Lesbian. Oh, Helen, I didn’t get your text yesterday because my phone was flat and…”

“Emmy,” she cut me off again, clearly wanting to control the conversation, “do you know why I came home early yesterday?”

“For me, to cheer me up,” I replied. “I saw your text last night, after…”

“Yes, for you. Em, I’ve wondered about my feelings for you for ages but I always told myself I was straight and we were just good friends. I noticed you looking at me but I’ve been looking at you too. Then when I got your text yesterday I felt so protective of you; I just wanted hold you and hug you… and kiss you. And then I knew that, really, holding and kissing you was just the start of what I wanted. I’ve never felt like that about a girl before and I was – I am – nervous. I feel like I ought to be straight but when it comes to you, I’m not sure. When I sent to text I didn’t know what we would do yesterday evening: go for a drink, go dancing, even go and sit in the back row of the cinema. I did want to cheer you up but I also planned to make a pass at you.” she smiled. “To be honest, what I really wanted to make out with you like some randy teenager.”

“So you came home early to cheer me up and get off with me?” I asked, amazed but also even more distressed at what she’d seen me doing.

“Yes,” she conceded.

“But instead you saw me… doing what I did,” I cried. “Look, Helen, I didn’t mean it to happen, I never planned it. I pooped in my leggings by accident when I was running and it just made me so horny and wet and…”

“Em, do you know how long I’d been in the house when you saw me?”

“You’d just come in hadn’t you?”

“No. I was home before you, in the kitchen. I saw you just as you lay down on the bathroom floor and watched as you rubbed shit over your tits and body and then into your pussy. And then you came and squirted everywhere – ‘What the fuck!” I couldn’t believe a girl could do that!”

“It was disgusting, I know.” I was crying freely.

“It was hot,” she whispered.

“…I just couldn’t help myself!” I realized what she’d just said. “What?” I exclaimed.

“It was so fucking hot,” she repeated. I was stunned. “Seeing you covered in shit: I should have been disgusted but it made me wet! And then when you looked at me. I was so scared and confused: I just had to go and hide and think it out.”

“And?” I asked nervously.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, about being with you and touching you. If that makes me gay or bi, then that’s the name for what I am.” She laid her head against my shoulder and snuggled in. Instinctively I put my arm around her, for the first time touching the bare skin of her torso that I had seen so often. Her nose nuzzled my collar bone. “Mmm, you smell nice. Musky and sexy.”

“Helen, I… I’ve known I’m gay for years but I’ve never had a girlfriend, never made love…”

She pulled away, siting up and staring at me. “Really?” she exclaimed. I nodded and she threw her arms around me. “That’s so cool!” she exclaimed, “I mean, no, it’s not cool that you’ve never had a girlfriend; it’s just that it can be the first time for both of us. I was so scared that I wouldn’t be as good as some amazing ex-lover of yours. But now, I mean whatever turns us on…”

“Helen,” I interrupted, “will you please shut the fuck up so I can kiss you!”

It was hesitant as first but, a gentle meeting of our lips. We held each other close and I felt her mouth open as my tongue brushed her lips. I pushed my tongue forward and she opened to receive it. We explored each other’s mouths, our tongues gently entwining, as my hands caressed her back, relishing the smooth warmth of her skin. I felt her hands gliding over my hips and the top of my bum cheeks before sliding up under my shirt. Moments later our kiss was briefly interrupted as Helen slid my tee shirt over my head leaving me naked. The feel of our bare boobs touching was electric.

It might have been minutes or hours that we simply kissed and held and touched each other, but eventually Helen said simply, “Take me to bed, I want to make love to you.” So we climbed the stairs – actually we rushed up the stairs – but as we reached the top I hesitated: which bedroom? “Your room, darling,” prompted Helen. “Your bed is bigger!” she giggled.

I led the way and sat on the bed with Helen stood in front of me. My pussy was sopping and I could see from the glistening darkened patch on her panties that Helen’s was in the same state. I looked up into her eyes as I bent forward to run my tongue across her already hard nipple, making her gasp. I continued to lick and suck her tits and nipples as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her panties, drawing them down.

Her pussy was gorgeous: under a light covering of fine, short, dark hair he outer lips formed a smooth but pronounced bulge from the centre of which her inner lips protruded, dark pink and wet. I reached out to touch it but hesitated. “Are you sure about this, Helen,” I asked.

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