Teah and the Boston Steam Cleaner

Teah had promised her husband of 5 years a Boston Stream Cleaner for their anniversary.  Hance was attracted to Teah by very “anal means”.  Not to say that Teah loved anal sex, but something more on the note of sharing her “kaviar”.  Teah had been diagnosed with Mega Colon at the tender age of sixteen, but she never let that stop her from enjoying the rich and hearty foods that she loved.

Teah was a young, fertile and healthy American-African woman in her late 20s.  Her body was sexually absurd.  She had the figure much like the shape of an acoustic guitar.  Her silky, jet black hair cascaded on her smooth shoulders.  She had perky, half-lemon breasts – a basic C-cup bra size.  Her backside was astounding.  From the side, her rear end looked like a luscious teardrop of fresh protruding from her body and from the back her butt was like an inverted heart.  Her thighs were as meaty drumsticks, her waist tapered at 26 inches around and her fingernails and toenails were healthy and clear, usually decorated with one fine application of Speed-dry nail enamel.

Consumption for Teah was like having sex.  She wanted to savor every moment, every mouthful.  She didn’t like to be rushed while she ate.  She took her time and chewed up every last bite of her meal.  She knew from past blockages that her body would only process plentiful treasures if food was grinded up appropriately.  Teah was a very sensitive woman.  Her privates were the most sensitive – everything below her waist and above her knees was sensitive to tickling, licking and even expansion.

Four days before Hance and Teah’s anniversary, they were invited to an Italian banquet.  Teah had 6 full-plate helpings back-to-back, non-stop.  She put away mouthfuls of pasta smothered in cheese and sauce – she took sips of wine and nibbled on some buttery garlic bread in between.  By the evening’s end, Teah’s belly was a bit ballooned.  By the next day, Teah’s belly had gone down to its usual flatness.  For 3 days all she had eaten was slowly being processed into what she would consider “an hour of magazine reading.”

On the day of their wedding anniversary, Teah asked, “Hance, would you like Boston Steam Cleaner?”

Hance smiled and said, “I would be honored.  But make it special.”

That evening Teah showered as usual.  While still wet she applied fruit-scented aromatherapy skin cream.  She blow-dried her hair and curled it until the strands were playfully with bounce and lustrous with shine.  She sprayed Chamomile body fragrance under her arms, around her neck and chest area, between her thighs and on her tummy.  Teah slipped into a skin-pleasing, silky black marabou babydoll outfit with black fuzz on the cleavage and around the bottom end seam.  Teah slid her feet into a pair of black marabou slippers with black fuzz above the open-toe portion of the shoes.  When Teah walked, the short cut babydoll marabou outfit would rise a bit, partly exposing her well-endowed gluteal folds.  Teah saw her husband sitting in the hallway before the doorway.  She walked toward him and gave him a kiss.  His huge hand felt up her thigh as she turned her back to him.  His eyes watched her sweet papaya ass bounce behind the black fuzz.  Her heels clicked on the tiled floor with seductive echoes of biped passion.

Teah opened a box of wood stick matches and struck one.  She carefully lit scented candles on a shelf and on a tiny table nearby.  She took several sticks of incense and put on them into holders mounted on the walls.  She lit one incense and passed on the flame to the others one by one.  She blew out the first stick and walked over to the end of the room.  She lifted her right foot, bent halfway and removed her glamorous marabou slippers.  She did this slowly with both 3 inch heels because she loved the feeling of the satin as it glided off of the soles of her feet.  She placed the open-toe Satin Vamps on the towel rack.  She stepped on to a fluffy mink rug and curled her cute little toes under.  Teah placed her hands under her marabou babydoll outfit.  She lifted the sexy, sheer nightwear briefly exposing her close-shaven pelvic region.  She seemed ready to squat but instead sat down on a throne with seat coverings equal to the mink softness that pampered her feet.  She put her hands at the front end of her marabou babydoll outfit and pulled it forward, exposing her bare behind and thighs.  Her feet made fists on the mink rug, bracing locks of white fur between her toes.  She sat elegantly and gracefully as a woman should. . .and then she let a toilet bowl echoing, rectum opening burst of gas rip out of her.

“Lord have mercy,” she declared.  Another dry, turd-summoning fart blasted from her back end.  “My goodness,” she excused away the action, but not the profuse odor of her imminent bodily function.  Teah sighed and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.  She relaxed her rectal muscles and felt a wad of warm, deeply packed digested bulk dilating her back exit.  The expansion of these lower intestinal muscles caused her to let loose a steady stream of urine.  When she was finished peeing, she reached for a magazine on the floor rack and opened it.  She hummed angelically to herself a midst breaks of gas and drips of piss.

Teah knew that her roomy entrails had cooked up a big, thick beautiful specimen with the width of a cucumber and in the form of septic clay.  Teah felt her inner tissues tightening.  She put the magazine aside and took a dinner plate off of the sink top.  She bent forward and put the plate at her feet on the mink rug.  She turned and sat backward on the toilet.

Her husband entered and sat on the floor across form her.  Teah arched her back so that her big ass was sticking out and her butt cheeks were propped open.  Her anus was budding and pulsating, laboring to birth the rotten fruit of her digestive labor.  Teah moaned as if her husband were penetrating her with his 8 inch love meat and let the massive stool overtake her lower body.  She heard the sounds of the bowel movement crackling out of her hind end and she felt the muscles down there propelling her work of art toward her tiny, sensitive, perspiring orifice.  She groaned deeply as her anus expanded to let the head of the beast poke out.  It was the start of an amazingly perfect, polished fecal sausage.  Teah dripped with urine and sweet female jism as the stool nursed its way down toward the plate below.   It had to be at least 7 inches long while it dangled.  It had ridges and crevices from where the food she had eaten had been erratically heaped together in her digestive tract.  The fat rope-of-turd plopped on the dinner plate while Teah’s anus contracted and relaxed to rid her body of any excess shit-residue.

She unrolled a wad of toilet tissue and wiped her asshole.  She balled up more tissue and wiped again.  The stink was terribly wonderful.  Teah got off the toilet and picked up the dinner plate.  She held it before her husband and he examined the bowel movement that just came out of her body.  It was a masterpiece.  She was rewarded with an all-night fuck for her 1 hour steam cleaner.