Scat Bonnie at the Beach – Quality Erotic and sex stories

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This is a part of my new “I really don’t want to work that hard”
series, wherein I briefly gussy-up a bunch of tales about
adventures I’ve had in my life with various former girlfriends,
all of whom are now lumped into one great, wild girl called
Bonnie. More installments should follow.

I once had a girlfriend who was blessed with a deep, twisted,
wild streak. Her name was Bonnie. She loved to freak me out and
have a lot of fun.

At the beach seven summers ago, we were up in the condo taking a
break in mid-day. Our morning sunning had worn us out, so we’d
showered, napped, and lunched. Per usual when we were at the
beach, we’d been drinking since about eight that morning, so by
that early afternoon post-lunch time, both of us were pretty much
drunk. I, in fact, passed out before we could finish cleaning up
the paper plates.

We’d both gotten into fresh swimsuits for the anticipated
afternoon tanning time down on the sand, but I’d hit the wall. I
was sprawled out on the nice carpet, my upper body leaned back
against the bottom part of the couch. I wore nothing but my
trunks. Blearily, I came around, realizing something really
weird was happening. I was all wet. And Bonnie was snickering
nastily, quietly, obviously trying not to wake me.

Raising my head a little, but still too thick with booze to do
anything else, I saw that she’d squatted over me, facing my feet.
She’d taken her bikini bottoms completely off and was pissing
all over my stomach and swim suit. Then she began to strain.
Transfixed, groggy, vaguely aroused, I just lay like a paralytic
and watched her anus gape further and further open, until finally
she started pushing out poop.

Thick and slow, her log of shit came down. It was at least eight
inches before it touched my stomach, then Bonnie raised her ass
higher and it began to coil neatly, almost perfectly around my
belly button. It finally broke off, and she grunted. Soon
another log was coming, but much faster and softer, almost
shooting out of her ass–along with a huge fart. Suddenly I wore
a big soft turd running straight up my torso, its tail lying over
the first coiled one, its head nearly level with my chest.

Bonnie’s ass and hunched back were all I could see. Her head was
down as she strained, but occasionally she raised it to take a
swig from her beer. A few more softer, smaller turds ran out,
and these more or less coated the coiled log like icing. I
remember it smelled horrible, of course, and I also remember sort
of drifting out again. It was funny to me, mostly, but I still
just didn’t move, a slave to the alcohol and Bonnie’s odd idea of
fun.

She pissed some more squirts here and there, and finally she
decided she was done. Her asshole was a little slimy, but she
didn’t seem to care. She stood and turned to look at me for a
long time, laughing really quietly to herself and drinking the
rest of her beer. I was looking right at her, and she asked me
if I was awake, if I knew I was covered in her shit, but it was
too hard to talk. My mouth felt like it was glued shut and
filled with paste. I’m sure we all know what that’s like, that
super-drunk stupor where it’s all like an out-of-body thing.

So Bonnie just laughed more and kept looking me over. Then she
reached down for her bottoms and pulled them on, went to the
fridge and got more beer for the cooler, then left and went down
to the beach. I passed out again, I guess; but eventually I
managed to get up–holding the shit against myself like an armful
of kittens–and I made it into the bathroom to clean myself off.
Of course, I ended up puking miserably for a very long time.

Eventually I made it back down to the beach, where Bonnie was
lying on her stomach, her top untied. A book was down on the
sand beneath her lounger, but it had closed and she was asleep.
So I took my revenge. I ripped my old beach towel into a few
long strips and tied her to the lounger. She snored through it
all. There was an older divorced lady next to us a short
distance away, and she watched me with growing alarm. But she’d
been vacationing there all week, too, and we’d built up a good
sense of fun between us. I told her Bonnie was getting a little
payback and to please not untie her.

She agreed and then helped me to place her own beach tent around
Bonnie so that she would be shielded from the direct view of any
passersby. Then she and I both left her there. I took the lady
down the beach past the pier to an oyster bar I loved, and we
drank some beer and sucked some shells until sunset.

Getting back to the beach tent, we found Bonnie still there. She
was very awake and very uncomfortable. But she hadn’t cried out.
She knew I’d be coming back for her. She was all about fair
play and payback, so she was a good sport about it all.

And she’d had the courtesy to piss herself while she’d been
restrained, too, which of course was what I’d been hoping for.

The lady and I got her untied and helped get her down into the
water and cleaned off, and we had a really great laugh.

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