Yummy Little Boy Poo
I went to the city with Dad and we went shopping for a cat. We went to the pet store where I chose a kitten. The pet store owner told me it took a few days for pets to be registered, so I had to wait maybe a day or two before the kitten was sent to my home. Dad and I were going to have to travel back home together but while at the city Dad got a phone call and told me he was needed at the office straight away, which meant that I had to take the train back home by myself. This wasn’t too much of a problem because I knew the trains fairly well.
As I entered the subway station, someone was handout out free newspapers. I took one but didn’t read it. I only got the newspapers so I could bring them home and use them as disposable table cloths.
As I leaned down and did my shoelaces, someone bumped into me. This wasn’t unusual in a crowded subway but this person who bumped into me didn’t bother to move away or to apologize. It seemed as if this person bumped into me without knowing he bumped into me, as if I were invisible.
I looked at the offender and noticed that he was a small boy, probably about six or seven years old. He wore green and yellow tracksuits, most likely a school sports uniform. He carried a black backpack that seemed rather large for his small body. His hair was messy and naturally fell around his head like water from a fountain. His face could aptly be described as cute. He was approximately three to four feet tall. He stood near a much taller person, a school friend or maybe an older brother.
The little boy didn’t even know he had bumped into me and just walked away from me for a few seconds before standing still with his friend. Both were talking about something that I couldn’t hear because of the noisy subway I was in.
A mechanical female voice could be heard crackling through the subway speakers. “The 4:37 train to Glen Waverley will arrive at Platform 4 in one minute. Please remember to validate your ticket before you travel.”
Ever since I was little I have always been afraid of being run over by a train, so whenever the train was approaching I would stand well clear of the tracks. The little kid and his friends were right next to the tracks. They were playing around. The older kid pushed the little boy towards the train tracks but pulled him back immediately after, scaring the little boy. The little kid was scared at first but, after realizing his friend was only messing around with him, started to relax and casually hit the older boy back with a friendly punch.
A glowing light appeared at the end of the tunnel. The train was approaching. The place became very windy, blowing my clothing around, messing up my hair. Discarded pieces of newspaper on the ground flew everywhere. One page hit a woman on the face. The woman grabbed the paper in disgust and threw the page away. When the train was about to stop, the little kid and his school friends decided to be rebels and touch the windows of the train as it was still moving. Some of the middle-aged and older commuters glanced at the misbehaving youngsters, but most just tried their hardest to ignore them. I was staring at that little boy who had bumped into me earlier. He was messing around like his friends were, but he wasn’t as extreme as the others. He misbehaved to a degree that guaranteed acceptance by his peers. Once he had crossed that line where his peers would accept him, he was clearly aware of the adult eyes watching him and didn’t overdo his rebellion. As rebellious as young people may be, this kid still felt compelled to conform to adult standards.
The train doors opened. The school kids walked into a middle carriage. I made sure I followed him and his friends into this carriage, trying to look as if I was not intentionally following them, like I had entered that carriage because it was the closest one to me.
I kept my eye on the little boy the whole time I was on the train. He played around with his friends, who were really noisy. They were so noisy most of the other old people in the train kept glancing at them, probably thinking about how stupid kids nowadays were. As the train stopped at more and more train stations, the kid’s friends started to leave and I found myself looking at two people, the little boy as well as another older boy.
As the train moved through the suburbs, I stood and kept looking at the little boy. Because I didn’t want anyone to catch me leering at the kid I alternated between the little boy and the window. Both views were nice. For some reason I liked looking outside the train window as it passed through the suburbs. The suburban houses were so nice, especially when we went through an affluent suburb like Toorak. I liked looking at the big houses with Lexuses and Mercedes parked outside. I often think about how great it would be to have lots of money. When I looked at the little kid, I saw him staring out the window as well. The sunlight shone and lit up his hair. The little boy turned towards the older kid standing near him.
“Look, a twuck!” said the little boy, pointing out the window. “There’s another one.”
“I’ve been on a truck before. There aren’t many trucks where I live though.”
“Where do you live, Mark?” asked the little boy.
Mark looked down at the kid, who was about half his size. “Brighton.” Compared to the little kid, Mark voice was deep and broken. While the little kid wore colorful sports tracksuits, Mark wore the standard school uniform, a black blazer jacket over a white shirt and dark blue tie. He wore grey pants and a belt to hold the pants up. His hair was dark brown and gelled to the back.
“My friend Edward lives in Brighton,” said the little boy.
“I’m getting off at Mount Waverley today though. My mom’s picking me up there ‘cos we’re going to some relative’s wedding. This is like the fifth time he’s been married. The guy’s probably fucked around with about a million women. Now that is a winner.”
The little boy smiled, probably because his older friend Mark swore.
Mark spoke. “Have you ever fucked a little girl, Tommy?”
The little boy whose name must have been Tom or Tommy looked around nervously. Mark’s voice was rather loud, so other people on the train, including the old people, could hear him.
“No,” said Tom softly, not wanting other people on the train to hear him. “I’m too little to do that.”
“Rubbish! I know kids about your age who have bitches all over them.”
Little Tommy took his eyes away from Mark’s and stared at the slideshow of houses outside. “I don’t know. I don’t like playing with girls.”
“You got the Internet at home?”
“Yep, but Mommy watches me when I use it.”
“You’ve never seen porn?”
“Maybe a little,” said Tom, his voice so sweet compared to Mark’s hoarse and rough voice.
“You wanna see some porn? I’ve got some I’ll give you for some money. How about ten bucks? You get much pocket money from your mom and dad?”
“Umm.” Tom looked down at his lap.
“What about yer girlfriend? Does she give you any money?”
“I told you I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend? What about that small girl you were drawing the pictures with today at lunch? I saw you with her. What’s her name, Lily?”
“The teacher made us do that.”
“She’s pretty nice though, isn’t she?”
“The chicks love me,” said Mark. “Do you know why?”
“Do you like Lily?” asked Tom.
“Small children are not my thing. I’m not a pervert like some people. I prefer the big tits and the wide hips of a woman in her late teens, twenties, or thirties. I’m gonna tell you something, Tom. I’m gonna tell you something about women. I’m gonna tell you a secret that will make the ladies love you like they love me.”
“They may not admit it,” said Mark, “but all women want to be dominated.” Mark saw quite a few people standing nearby on the train looking at him, including me. He seemed to like this attention though. “Do you think the bitches come to me because of my looks? That may be part of it but ultimately, let’s face it, the bitches need to be protected, they need someone with money and with power to watch over them, to tell them what to do because they are just pathetic bitches who have no idea what to do without the aid of a man like me.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“You only have to look around,” said Mark. “Among all men, who are the ones in highest demand, and what do they all have in common? Have a look at the losers, and ask yourself: what is it they all have that the winners don’t?” Mark paused. His voice seemed to lose its coarseness and became smoother. “If you want to know what the bitches want in a man, look at the car. Why do we buy cars? One reason is because we want status. Likewise, a woman wants status by attaching herself to a man of high prestige…”
Tommy was silent for a few seconds. “Why are you talking about cars?”
“Cars move. The bitches want a man who is moving, a man who is going somewhere with his life. Just as a car needs an engine and an engine needs fuel, so too a man needs an engine to move him places. What is the engine that drives man?”
The little boy laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Mark smiled. “The engine that drives man is greed! The road that man walks upon is the road of wealth. A car is made up of the essentials that move the car, like the engine, but there is more to a car than the engine. There is also the exterior, the shell of the car. Just as a car has an exterior to conceal the engine so too a man should have an exterior to conceal the engine that drives him, to conceal his greed. Women want to see a car that has an engine to move, but they also want a car that looks good. In the same way, woman want a man who can move along the road of wealth but they don’t want to see too much detail about how greedy he is, how it is exactly that he obtains his wealth. Women don’t give a shit about how the car moves so long as the fucking car moves, and woman don’t give a shit about the way a man makes his money so long as he makes the fucking money in the first place and conceals his methods. Moving a car is not pretty, all the oil and grease, all the wires, the pistons and all that shit…it’s disgusting…but the sight of a nice car moving…that’s what we want in a car. Making money is the same. Making money is not pretty…the deception, the greed, the lying…whatever! But the things that money buys are very, very pretty. And that is what the bitches all want. That is why I am a winner. I’m exposing the truth to you, and if you accept it, you can move even further upon the road of wealth, and like me ten or fifteen women will hit on you every single day.”
The little boy looked at his older friend quietly. I had no idea what the boy's older friend was talking about, and judging by the confused look on Tommy's face I suspect he had no idea either. Some of the older commuters in the train were rolling their eyes.
Suddenly, a rather big man approached Mark and Tom. This man didn’t look too presentable. To sum it up, he looked like a bum. His hair was unkempt. His pale face was wrinkled even though he was clearly only middle-aged, he wore a sweaty singlet, he had excessive body hair on his exposed arms, and his right hand was clutching a bottle of beer. As the man walked by, his stench filled my nose, almost inducing the vomit reflex within me.
“Move away from the door, fuckers!” he screamed at Mark and Tom. “I’m gettin’ out at the next stop.”
Mark faced the bum. “What is with you, yer bum?”
“What did yer call me? Huh?”
“I called you a bum.”
“Who are you calling a bum, yer fuckin’ snot-nosed smart-arse kid! You think you’re so good, huh?”
Mark shook his head. “Get a job, you bum.”
“You think yer better than me?”
“I’m still young, but I make more than 2000 dollars a week. What about you?”
“I was fuckin’ in the army!” said the bum. “I fought for this country. What have you done wit yer life that compared to that?”
“You are a fool!” said Mark. “You don’t have the ability to make yourself better so that you can be proud of yourself as an individual so you try to get pride from the country. Fucking loser. No wonder you’re a fucking bum.”
The bum looked closer at Mark. “Are you a fucking Italian?”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I was born in this country, man.”
“You’re a fucking Italian, aren’t you? You’re not one of us. You’re trying to destroy us. I’m a patriot! I love my country.”
“Is that the shit you use to make yourself feel better about your position in life? Mate, you have more in common with a bum in Italy than I do. You fucking lazy bums are a nation to yourselves!”
“Oh, you think you’re good because your dad’s in the mafia!”
“What the fuck do you know about my dad? Dumbass, you’re like an astrologer. You think you know everything about me because you think I look Italian! You might as well read lines on my palm and tell me who I’ll marry. You are a fucking loser who has no individual worth, so you fucking leech pride off other successful people by using something other than money to unite yourself to them.”
The little boy seemed scared now. The commotion was attracting quite an audience as passengers twisted in their seats to watch the argument.
“What a fucker!” said the bum. “You think you’re so good because yer rich! I bet you don’t even make the money you have. Yer leech it off yer parents just like yer leeching off the freedom I fought fer you.”
“I make all my money!” said Mark.
“You’re gone, yer fucker!”
The train stopped at the next stop. The bum was supposed to get off at this stop, but he didn’t. A few seconds later, the train door closed automatically. The bum had missed his stop. As the train started moving again, the bum moved towards Mark and swung a punch in his direction. But Mark seemed prepared. He dodged the fist and punched the bum back on his stomach. The bum, however, seemed like a hardened man whose body was as tough as a boxer’s. He recovered quickly and ran towards Mark, pushing him. Mark fell onto Tom, the little boy, who really looked scared now. Once Mark was on the floor, the bum jumped on him and punched him in the face. The little boy looked in horror as his older friend was hit on the face.
“No, don’t hurt him!” said the little boy. “Don’t hurt him please!”
“Fuck off, kid!” cried the bum, pushing the kid away roughly. The little kid was hurled back and fell on the floor right next to my foot. I took the opportunity to reach down and grab the kid, making it look like I was protecting him.
The bum sat on Mark. After quite a bit of struggling, Mark kicked the bum off with his legs. Mark then grabbed the bum with his left hand and punched him again this time on his face. The bum was much older and bigger than Mark, so Mark probably knew he wasn’t going to win a fist fight with the guy. Mark then pulled out a gun from his pocket.
“Come near me and I’ll shoot you!” said Mark as the train stopped at the next station. “Get off now! Make no sudden movements.” Mark moved towards the train door and opened it wide open.
The bum became scared when he saw the gun. He stayed on the floor and crawled out before the train door closed behind him. Once the train started moving again, all the passengers who watched the fight knew it was all over. They turned around and went back to whatever they were doing. Most were reading newspapers or looking out the window. Some were sleeping. I still held the little boy by his small and smooth hands. The penis underneath by pants was level with his head, so I shoved the stiffness at his hair and felt the softness rub all over. I relaxed my grip on the little boy, giving him the option of escaping my hold and running back to his older friend Mark. But the little kid stayed with me.
Mark put his gun back in his pocket and fixed up his hair. He saw Tom with me and walked over to us.
“What a fucking bum,” said Mark, smiling. “You know, for all their similarities the only difference between men and cars is that cars don’t get jealous.”
“You carry around a gun?” asked Tom.
Mark spoke. “You can’t blame a dog for being a dog, and you can’t blame a bum for being a bum. You gotta protect yourself when you’re around a dangerous dog, and likewise you gotta protect yourself if you’re around bums.”
Mark went off at the next stop, leaving Tommy with me. The little boy got out of my grip but still stood right next to me, as if I was his new friend. He looked up at me.
“Where do you live?” he asked, looking a little shaken and scared from the fight he just witnessed.
“Malvern. What about you, Tommy? Is that your name?”
The little boy nodded. “I get off at Tooronga.”
I nodded, not really knowing where that was.
The train then arrived at Tooronga Station. The kid heaved his bag over his little body, pushed the train door open, and said goodbye before walking out. He said goodbye as if he expected to see me next time, but what were the chances? I only took this train to go to the city to buy a pet and I don’t go to the city often, so if I didn’t get off quickly then this was most likely the last time I would ever see this cute kid. He was such a beautiful little boy.
Although this wasn’t my station, I got off anyway and followed the kid. I stayed behind him so he couldn’t see me stalking. It was a sunny day. The sunlight instantly warmed my body till I was starting to sweat. Near Tooronga Station was a car park. This was typical for train stations out in the suburbs.
As I watched the little boy, I noticed he was walking into the toilets. This was the perfect opportunity for me to see him again. But I started to wonder what he would think. Should I say hi to the kid? I was still thinking about how I was going to introduce myself to the little boy as I walked into the toilet block.
When I walked into the toilet block, I was greeted by the usual: a metal urinal in the center, hand basins to the right, and two toilet cubicles on the left. One toilet cubicle had its door wide open, exposing the toilet within. The lighting in these toilets was hardly adequate. While many public toilets had white tiles and fluorescent lights, this toilet had concrete walls and there were holes in the walls that allowed sunlight to enter. The place smelled of urine.
Although one of the toilet cubicles had its door wide open, the other cubicle had its door closed but not locked. I could see that the door was not fully closed. I kneeled down and looked under the door to see the back of the boy’s shoes and shins. The sound of trickling liquid soon followed. The little boy was urinating.
I approached the toilet cubicle slowly and pushed the door open, careful not to push too hard lest the hinges started creaking. Once I had opened the door enough, my head poked in and I looked inside. Even though the little boy had his back towards me, I was about two times taller than he was, so I could see his little penis as he urinated.
Once my whole body was inside the toilet cubicle I closed the door behind me and locked it. The little boy must have heard the metal locks clanking because he turned around quickly and backed away from me, obviously scared. He had been urinating, so when he turned around, streams of urine sprayed all over the cubicle like a sprinkler, some of it landing on me. The boy hurriedly zipped up his pants to cover his private parts, zipping up too quickly that urine still dripping from the head of his penis started to stain the front of his pants. The boy silently looked towards me and breathed heavily, expecting me to do something. He had backed himself as far away from me as possible, but inside a toilet cubicle there was hardly any room to move, and I was still about one-point-five meters away from him.
“It’s okay, kid,” I said, trying to reassure him. “It’s me, remember? I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
The little boy nodded slightly but still looked scared.
“My name’s Philip. You can keep weeing if you want, Tommy.”
Tom kept still.
“Would you like to make some money? Do you want forty dollars?”
The little boy looked up at me. He stilled looked anxious, but the talk about money certainly had an effect, albeit a small effect. I had more money in my wallet--about 2000 dollars to be precise--but I didn’t want to spend too much if I didn’t have to.
“I’ll give you forty dollars,” I said, “if you let me drink your wee.”
“Umm…” He looked at me. “I also need to do a poo.”
“That’s okay. Maybe I can eat that.”
Tom’s mouth opened up slightly in surprise.
“Sit back down now,” I said, gently reaching for the little boy’s zipper. “If you need to go wee and poo, let’s get those pants off.” I unzipped the zipper, revealing his underwear. My hands grabbed the top of his pants and pulled them down all the way to his feet. I grabbed the little boy by his hips and gently pushed him till he was sitting on the toilet again. I then kneeled down on the concrete floor. The hard concrete didn’t feel good against my knees, but the sight of the little boy’s penis before me was adequate compensation. I took off my shirt and threw it on the concrete behind me. I soon noticed that when Tom sat down on the toilet seat the sole of his shoes didn’t reach the concrete floor. His legs were too short and they dangled around cutely. I started to wonder about the boy’s age.
“How old are you, Tommy?”
With the 7-year-old boy sitting on the toilet with his pants around his shins, I brought my head down, bringing my face close to the little boy’s penis. The smell from the boy’s crotch area started to reach my nose. It was the warm smell of dick. Tom’s penis was about three inches long. It looked semi-erect. His scrotum had no hair at all. Just how I liked it!
My fingers grabbed the end of the little boy’s juicy penis. I pulled back the foreskin. He was uncircumcised. The foreskin seemed to stick against the glans as it peeled back. Since Tom had been urinating earlier, small drops of liquid bubbled out from the urethral opening. I brought my mouth towards the tip of the penis and licked this salty liquid. My mouth then covered one inch of the boy’s penis. My tongue started invading the deep pockets underneath his foreskin, picking up sticky and tasty residue that had been sitting there for days. The organ seemed to grow harder as I licked it more and more. The sticky slime hiding underneath the little boy’s foreskin had been fermented over many days and was now so tasty.
“Can I wee now?” Tom asked.
I pulled my face away from his penis. “Hold on, Tommy.”
I felt uncomfortable with my kneeling position. My knees felt sore from the hard concrete below. As I was kneeling, all the weight was concentrated on my knees, which was creating pain there. I decided to adjust myself, this time sitting down with my bottom on the concrete with my legs spread out straight flanking the base of the toilet. The soles of my shoes touched the wall of the toilet. Because my bottom was now on the concrete instead of my knees, my mouth was no longer level with Tom’s penis. As I sat, Tom’s penis was level with my eyes but my mouth was level to the toilet seat. Tom’s penis obviously sat a few inches above the toilet seat.
My hands grabbed Tom’s hips and moved him forward till his penis was closer to my face. With my right hand I grabbed his penis and directed it down till it aimed at my nose. I tilted my head back till the penis was aimed at my top lips.
“You can pee now, Tommy.”
As I opened my mouth, my head tilted back even further. A hot stream of brightly yellow liquid shot out and initially hit me on the top lip. The urine splashed around, many droplets landing on my face. With my fingers on the little boy’s penis I aimed down a little till the stream of urine went straight into my open mouth. The urine started to build up at the back of my throat. I could feel the warmth of the liquid on my cheeks. I was too hesitant to swallow and the urine started to overflow, dripping down my neck and body, some of it staining my pants. For a long time I had been looking at the little boy’s penis. I looked up and saw Tom’s face looking down at me. His curious eyes looked down at the odd sight below. He was an adorable boy with such a cute face. As I admired him, his urine became more palatable, and I started swallowing. My esophagus instantly warmed up as the hot liquid went down towards my stomach and heated up my chest. The saltiness and bitterness was registered on my tongue before tingling my throat and esophagus, as well as other parts of my body as the urine went down. The stream started to die down. I kept gulping and gulping till my mouth was empty. When Tom had run out of urine, he stared at me as I looked up at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Why are you crying?”
At first, I didn’t know what the boy was talking about. Then I realized that my eyes were watering. The strong bitterness of the urine made my eyes water. I wasn’t crying though.
“Does it taste yummy?” Tom asked.
“It does.” I smiled up at him. “You’ve got delicious wee wee.”
The boy said earlier he needed to defecate, so I stood up and picked up the boy with my hands underneath his armpits and positioned him in front of the toilet where he stood. I was wearing no shirt but was wearing pants. I took the pants and underwear off and threw them with my shirt on the concrete. Tom’s eyes widened when he saw my fully erect penis. I was completely naked now except for my socks. I positioned myself between the little boy and the toilet. I sat down on the toilet myself, enjoying the warmth of the toilet seat on my bottom now that the little boy had warmed it up. As I sat on the toilet I was looking at the back of the little boy whose pants were down. I saw the little boy’s bottom and noticed a foul smell. My hands grabbed his bum cheeks and pried them apart so the opening of his anus could be exposed. I noticed that half a piece of poo was coming out of the anal hole, which explained the smell.
I released my grip on the bum cheeks, letting them flap back together. With two fingers on my right hand I snapped the portion of poo coming out from the anus and with one hand rubbed the poo on my palm using my fingers. Bringing the poo on my hand down between my legs, I wanked myself, smearing the poo on my erect penis and moaned in pleasure as the boy’s moist juicy warm poo lubricated my cock.
With my left hand I grabbed the little boy’s hips and pulled him back so he was sitting on my lap. My poo-stained penis sat between the little boy’s bum cheeks. The little boy sat on my lap with his back facing me. As he sat, he saw my poo-stained right hand grab his right thighs.
“Yuck!” he said.
“Take off your shirt,” I said. “Take off all your clothes. I don’t want them to get dirty.”
Immediately the kid took off his top and threw it on the concrete floor. Using only his feet he took off his shoes and flicked them onto the concrete. He then let his pants slip off his legs till he was completely naked except for his school socks. We were both completely naked now except for our socks. We could get a dirty as we wanted.
As the boy moved, his bum cheeks moved up and down. My erect penis between the little boy’s bum cheeks were massaged in the process.
“You can poo now, Tommy. Start pooing.”
I felt the boy’s poo snake out from his anus and onto my penis, which he was sitting on. I kept my left hand on Tom’s hips and with my poo-stained right hand grabbed the little boy’s now 4-inch erect penis. I pumped my right hand up and down on the little boy’s penis. The poo lubricant stained his slightly tanned outer foreskin and made it dark brown. As I masturbated the little boy, his whole body moved and his bottom especially moved up and down. I started bucking my hips back and forth, moving my penis along the valley between his bum cheeks. As the moist squishy poo came out it was quickly mangled as my penis moved back and forth. Much of the poo tumbled over my penis and dropped between my legs down to the toilet water. Some of the poo ended up underneath my foreskin as my penis pumped up and down.
Suddenly, the poo came out at a greater rate of flow from Tom’s anus. The rate of flow of poo was so great that the little boy was pushed up a little. The poo started to overflow upwards, with poo dropping on my pubes. When Tom had finished pooing, most of the poo was in the toilet water, but much of it was trapped between his bum cheeks and large chucks were all over my penis. Tom stood up, turned around, and looked at me. He looked down at the mess between my legs.
“Tommy, I want you to scoop up all that poo on your bottom with your hands, okay? I want you to feed it to me. I want to eat your poo.”
The little boy reached behind him with his right hand and scooped out a handful of poo for me to see. I grabbed the little boy by the hips with both hands and brought him closer to me. I sat him on my lap, but this time instead of facing him away from me as he sat on my lap he now faced me as he sat on my lap. His legs straddled my hips. His penis touched my penis. My hands had a firm hold on his hips lest he fell backwards. My hands went up along his back. Since my right hand was poo-stained, I left a strand of poo on his skin as I brought my hands up and rested them under his armpits.
I spoke. “I’m going to put my wiener in your bum, okay?”
The boy’s eyes widened. He shook his head. “No, I don’t want that.”
“I’ll pay you more. I promise. It won’t hurt too much.”
With both my hands underneath the little boy’s armpits, I lifted the boy up till his bottom hovered over my erect penis.
“Tommy, with your left hand, the hand without the poo, I want you to reach down and position my wiener as I bring you down so that my wiener goes into your bum hole.”
Keeping the poo in his right hand, Tom brought his left hand down and grabbed my penis. The little boy’s soft small hands on my penis felt great. As I brought the little boy down, he moved my penis around till the head touched the tip of his anal opening. As I brought the little boy down further, my penis entered the little boy’s virgin anal hole. It went in one inch before the little boy closed his eyes.
“Ouch,” he said. “That hurts.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, freezing and giving the boy some time for the pain to subside. I opened my mouth. “You can put the poo in my mouth now.”
The boy’s right hand placed the poo in my mouth. The poo was moist and parts of it felt furry against my tongue. The poo was made up of balls and I had to chew on these balls to mash them into smaller pieces for ingestion. The thought of eating the little boy’s poo hardened my cock significanty. I brought the little boy down further till my 5- or 6-inch cock was fully inside the little boy’s anal hole.
I started humping the boy’s butt, the poo on my penis acting as lubricant, creating squishing sounds as my cock pumped in and out. My humping hips bounced the little boy’s bottom on my lap. I was bouncing his butt up and down on my lap like a tennis ball bounding on a tennis raquet. The little boy started crying. As my penis started to more powerfully pump through his ass, he started screaming, but as he did so I brought my poo-stained right hand towards the back of the boy’s head, grabbing his hair. I then pulled his face towards my face and forced him to kiss me, forced his mouth against my poo-filled mouth.
My penis came in and out of the boy’s anus, bouncing him on my lap, and at the same time my tongue and throat was pushing all the poo in my mouth into the little boy’s mouth, who was trying to push the poo back into my mouth as well. The poo swirled and mixed around in both our mouthes. I looked into the little boy’s eyes when he opened them. His pupils were large. His eye had a look of fear. They were moist and teardrops fell down his cheeks, some of it landing on my face.
The poo in his mouth was too much for the boy and he started vomiting. His mouth briefly separated from mine and some runny orange liquid fell out along with some poo drops. I didn’t want to waste anything though, so I pulled the boy’s head closer to mine and sealed in the poo and vomit, mixing both the poo and vomit together with my tongue, teeth, and cheek muscles. The mixing made the resultant solution runnier. The dry pungentness of the poo was mixed with the sweet tanginess of the vomit, which made the resultant solution tastier as well.
The little boy didn’t like the poo, and so with his hands he grabbed my face and started pushing at it, hoping to separate my mouth from his. His right hand was stained with poo, which smeared all over my face. He was about to poke my eyes with his poo-stained fingers, but I increased the speed at which my penis pumped in and out from his anal hole. As I increased the force and power of the pumping, the little boy’s body started shaking so violently that his hands started flailing at his sides. He couldn’t keep a firm grip on my face with his hands. His whole body was jerked around as my penis came in and out. He shook like a bucket of paint being mixed by a mixing machine. With the renewed pain in the little boy, I saw a fresh burst of tears coming from the kid’s eyes as his body bounced up and down roughly. His muffled screamed filled the poo mixture in our mouths with hot air and bubbles. I started cumming, filling his ass with my sperm. As I came, I needed to exhale at a rapid rate, and couldn’t do it with my nose, so I released my mouth from the little boy’s mouth and shouted out at I kept cumming. The poo and vomit in my mouth shot out all over the boy’s face. Tom spat out the poo and vomit on my chest. The mixture ran down my body towards my penis. I kept pumping my penis as the little boy tumbled on me in pain.
As my orgasm subsided, I sat still with my penis inside the little boy’s ass. Tom was slouched against me, his face resting against my face, his chest resting against my chest. He was quietly sobbing. I could feel the little boy’s heartbeat against mine. I felt his body, felt his warmth. As he cried I put my arms around his back and hugged him. With my left hand, which was relatively clean, I wiped some of the poo away from the boy’s face.
I spoke. “I’m sorry, Tom. I didn’t know I was going to do that. I promise I’ll pay you lots more money.”
Now that my sex drive had died down, I started to regret hurting the boy, and I looked around at all the poo everywhere and started to wonder why on earth I did such a thing. The taste of poo in my mouth almost made me vomit now. I kept looking at Tom, the beautiful little boy, and the thought that it was his poo in my mouth made me happier about what I had just eaten.
I flushed the toilet till the toilet water was clean, and using this toilet water I cleaned both myself and the little boy with my socks. When we were both clean, I flushed the poo-stained socks down the toilet and dressed up both myself and the little boy. I took out my wallet and gave the boy everything I had, 2000 dollars.
“Here’s your money,” I said. “Don’t tell anyone about what happened, okay? I could get in big trouble. Do you want me to get in trouble?”
The little boy shook his head. “No.” He took the money from my hands.
I asked the kid if he could get home from here by himself. He said he could. As he walked home by himself, I went back to the train station. As I waited for the train, I thought about the day. I might need to go back to the city again to pick up the kitten I had ordered. If that were the case, I hope I could meet little Tommy again.