Making the Most Out of a Shitty Situation

Julian had no idea how long Faith intended to keep him buried in her mud pit. He found he was incapable of any real movement, the sleek tissue inside Faith’s rectum had essentially collapsed around him and held him fast other than the fingers of his left hand. If it wasn’t so goddamn hard to breathe in the constrictive environment, he figured he would be making obnoxious farting sounds just to amuse himself. Chuckling to himself, he instantly regretted it, the force all around him squeezing him like a rat in the coils of an anaconda. Not that she was consciously doing anything, but his mirth had inadvertently deflated his lungs and made it extraordinarily difficult to re-inflate. In an effort to stem his steadily rising claustrophobia, and the all-encompassing biological process sounds her body was making, heart, respiration, digestion, he started trying to hum music to Humble Pie’s, Thirty Days in the Hole. Aside from the incredible pressure bearing down on him, he was quite surprised by the heat she was generating at the terminus of her digestive tract. “You got a hot ass there girl,” he wheezed in the dank darkness. The heat made him perspire, lubricating the dark conduit and making him more than a little concern he might be pulled further into her bowels. He was also worried about whether or not she had evacuated the remnants of Ham. The notion of slowly being encased in shit, particularly what was left of Hamilton was frightening and he began humming Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana to try and keep the demons of fear at bay that was until Caesar started to stir, halting Julian mid tune. Panting and sucking shallow breaths, “Being smothered in a girl’s shit pipe and you make an appearance?” he chided. There was something to be aid about danger being an aphrodisiac. Wouldn’t it be the ultimate revenge to actually dump a load in her ass? As Faith moved and the tissue undulate around him, he tried to time his movements, grind a little and stimulate the glans of his penis. The drawback he quickly learned was that the more aroused he was becoming the more his body required oxygen and the harder he was forced to gasp. He was left in this perpetual limbo of being unbelievably aroused without being to get off. He wondered if this was the rush of auto asphyxiates? Teetering on the brink? He could tension beginning to develop in the flesh around, making him grit his teeth as she contracted her muscles and tried to expel him while simultaneously reaching down and tugging at his hand.

The sphincter parted grudgingly around him but he felt like he was going be ripped apart. All things consider, he thought Josh’s adventure in her pussy was a hell of a lot easily than practically being shat through her anus. The pain quickly displaced any of Caesar’s intent, causing Julian’s member to wilt.

Outside of her body, he actually felt chilled, wrapping his arms around his torso. Released from the pressure, there was also a tingling sensation in his extremities as his circulation returned. “I did a cleaning up while I was in there, but there might still be some shit lying around,” he said, trying not to chatter.

Faith grinned and shook her head, “My little butt bandit, always some quick retort,” she chimed, giggling.

Blowing a breath into his hand, “You got a Tic Tac or something, mint?” he asked, looking up at her. “You know I’m probably going to get pink eye?” he grumbled.

Chuckling, she took him in her hand and gave him a thorough clean under the tap before she returned to her room and set him down inside the tank near where Carver and Bohdi were sitting.

Looking up, “You must be Julian,” Bohdi, said smiling and nodding his head.

Ignoring the injured man, “Where’s Josh?” Julian asked Carver.

The thicker man pointed back through the glass at Faith, “She put him in her underpants a while ago,” he explained.

“I just wanted to say thank you mate, you know for pulling my ass out of that other sheila’s room you know,” Bohdi said, nodding.

Turning his head, Julian looked down on the splinted surfer, “You Aussie or something?” he asked.

“Too right, you’ve got a good ear, I am from the Lucky Country,” Bohdi replied, grinning.

Julian snorted, expression sour, “Let’s get something clear up front here Crocodile Dundee, I’m not your mate and I was the one who voted to leave you where we found you,” he said bluntly.

“Why do you always have to be such an asshole?” Carver questioned.

“Call it a gift,” Julian beamed.

“Carver was right when said you were a bit of a larrikin there yeah. Right yobbo,” Bohdi said.

Chuckling, “I don’t quite know what the fuck you just said there or what it’s supposed to mean, but I could give two squirts of piss for anything Carver has to say about shit and as for you, a dingo took your fucking baby,” Julian snorted, tone acrimonious.

Bohdi shook his head, “You want to be a knocker and not give me a fair crack of the whip, that’s on you mate I was only trying to say thanks.”

“Keep it,” Julian replied, rolling his eyes. Turning away, he placed his hands on the glass as he watched Faith puttering around her room.

“You were indisposed, but Faith’s mother was in here a while ago,” Carver stated.

Julian turned his head, “Yeah, what for?”

“She was just checking to see who we were, though she didn’t seem to give two squirts of piss you were lodged deep in her daughter’s bowels,” Carver sniped.

Laughing, Julian turned back to Carver, “I don’t care,” he responded, brows raised. But he did care. Fuck. Stuck in Faith’s ass cost him a chance to get an up close look at the exceedingly sexy Mrs. May. There was no way he was going to betray his feelings to Carver and one legged moron.

“You’re lucky my leg is broke, I’d be of half a mind to teach you some bloody manners,” Bohdi asserted, expression dark.

Julian grinned off the side of his face, “Blah, blah, blah, idiot. You’re getting all tough lying there with only one good pin? Fuck I could come over there and boot fuck you right now. Jenny Craig’s poster child here couldn’t do a goddamn thing to stop me. You need to wrap your sun addled brain around the fact you’re dead weight and sooner than later, our little blonde killing machine over there is going to realize it and gulp, down the hatch you go. You want to call me an asshole, or what was it, a yobbo, whatever, for telling it like it is, fine, I guess I’ll somehow just have to find a way to live with your disapproval,” he chuckled.