XPost: alt.politics.homosexuality, soc.culture.china, alt.society.liberalism   
   XPost: alt.tv.oprah   
   From: nh3@beefproducts.org   
      
   A week after my return, a barrel brimming with shit was placed in the   
   chamber appointed for pleasures. My Adonis arrives; he proves to be a   
   saintly ecclesiastic, but one so habituated to those pleasures, so blasé,   
   that he was no longer capable of being stirred save by the excesses I   
   shall describe.   
      
   I was naked when he entered. For a moment he regards my buttocks, then,   
   after having fingered them rather brutally, he tells me to undress him   
   and help him get into the barrel. I remove his garments, aid him to climb   
   in, the old pig slides down into his element; a hole has been specially   
   bored for the purpose and, fifteen seconds after having immersed himself,   
   his prick, almost stiff, pops through the aperture; he orders me to frig   
   it, covered as it is with filth and horrors. I do as I am told, he ducks   
   his head down into the shit, splashes in shit, swallows shit, shouts,   
   discharges, and, clambering out, trots off to immerse himself in a bath,   
   where I leave him in the hands of two house servants who spend a quarter   
   of an hour scrubbing him clean.   
      
   Another one appeared shortly afterward. I had shitted and pissed into a   
   pot a week before and had carefully preserved the mixture; this period   
   was necessary before matters reached the stage our latest libertine   
   desired. He was a man of fifty-seven, and my guess was that he was worked   
   in a cubicle at a law firm. Upon entering he asked where the pot was; I   
   handed it to him, he sniffed it experimentally.   
      
   "You’re perfectly certain that was done a week ago?" he asked.   
      
   "Monsieur," I replied, "I am prepared to answer for its age; you will   
   notice the first signs of mildew there, some moldiness near the edge."   
      
   "Why, indeed, it looks as if it will do very nicely," he agreed, "it’s   
   the mold I adore, you know. Never too moldy to suit me. Show me, if you   
   please," he continued, "the pretty ass that shitted what we have here."   
      
   I presented it.   
      
   "That’s it," said he, "put it right there opposite me so that I can see   
   it while eating its creation."   
      
   We arrange ourselves, he samples a little tidbit, is thrilled by the   
   taste, plunges directly ahead, and in no time has devoured that exquisite   
   lunch, only interrupting his chewing to scan my bum; but there was no   
   other episode, he did not even draw his prick from his breeches.   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)