Chapter 15: Unkinking a Hose

Their new paradox was when to be dirty and when to be clean. There were times, for example, when George would be at a urinal and fart, and the pungent smell would hit his nostrils and he’d frown. Evolution, after all, dictated that feces were highly bacterial and led to all sorts of health maladies. Predators would use their scat to mark their territory, signifying danger if the area was encroached upon. Other times, Gila would spend the day in a diaper, and George would catch his otherwise bottomless husband pause in routine and lean over, then pull himself out of his underwear—also usually pantsless—and start stroking himself as he heard the muffled crackles and saw the clean white underside bulge out into a round, hard dome.

Then Gila would suck George’s hardness until he burst, and it’d either go all into his stomach, or all over his face and chest, or even into his diaper if the angle was right. One time, Gila had a very full diaper—soaked and soiled, a perfect globe around his hips—and George was able to angle his thick shaft down the front and hump the hot, saturated padding and Gila’s cock until he dumped a load of sticky spunk into the cat’s protective briefs. The cat proudly waddled around and sat his burdened garment for another hour, up until his butt started itching.

Most of the time, the afterglow was a quiet smirk between them. They knew what they were doing edged on crazy, and there was that precarious element of tolerance, similar to drug use: were they doing it just because they shouldn’t, and would they escalate when the novelty wore off?

There was a time that George was feeling a bit loaded, and Gila friskily pulled him into their next intimate encounter. Gila was wearing a nice, low-cut, red pair of Bulge’s briefs. George was wearing a brand-new pair of Werk jeans—denim with a removable crotch; they’d pitched it to Bulge’s and it was on the floor in three weeks—and nothing in between. Starting in the kitchen, Gila slathered his paw in spit, and stroked George to hardness while the gecko was preparing a sandwich. Working him like a snake charmer, the cat continually tugged the gecko’s meaty member and led him all the way to the bedroom, where he lay down on his back and pulled George up by his throbbing desire. The gecko straddled Gila’s chest, and the cat rewarded him with a hot, silky wet mouth. Gila hungrily tugged George’s hips to him by his belt loops, gulping down his generous firmness and sending George to heaven.

The gecko slurred his words as his abdomen rumbled, then cleared his throat and protested again before Gila’s raspy tongue shot lightning bolts down the head of his cock. “H-honey, I don’t know which end of me is gonna last longer.”

Gila purred, vibrating George’s shaft and making the gecko’s eyelids pinch. “Let one thing happen, then the other,” he said, managing to shift his husband’s girth to the side of his mouth.

“Seems like a sin to the atmosphere,” the gecko said, then groaned as he felt a couple wet fingers stroke his intimate hole. “G-God damn…”

His member was fully in Gila’s mouth at this point, so the words that came out of the cat were a very slurred amalgam of “Feel good?”

“Yeah,” George growled, pumping his hips by instinct. During the last month, Gila had gotten extremely good at his services, and despite the gecko’s size he effortlessly slid into a hot, wet, welcoming mouth. The cat adeptly kept his teeth away from the skin, and his throat opened to a seemingly bottomless chasm. Because of that, George could just plunge himself in, and keep plunging until his pubic triangle hit Gila’s nose. This perfect canal enraptured and enfolded the gecko, and his thighs trembled and his tail rose, melting seamlessly into a gratifying breeding cycle.

Gila’s fingers did not stop. With his tail raised, George’s slit was completely accessible. The cat used excess saliva from his lips to keep his pads wet, and he relished the musky taste, rubbing the gecko’s firm vent until his fingers made sticky sliding sounds against it. This warm massage enlivened George’s rear passage, gurgling with a heavy load. The tsunami of silky suction around his girth, the insistent buzz and pulse of his bowels and their sensitive end, loosened his husband’s pelvic cradle until he was all male sensation: just a man breeding his man, come whatever may.

Gila stroked George’s puckered hole until it seemed to bow outward, and when he sensed hesitation in his husband’s hips, the cat sucked harder, gulping down the enormous rod to where his throat was stuffed and his chin nestled the reptile’s balls. “Oh God; oh God,” the gecko gasped. His ring pulsed against the cat’s fingers, so Gila slipped one in. The cat immediately felt a firm spire in the gecko’s canal. He nudged it and teased it, daring to push it upward, and that’s where his husband groaned and his mass dislodged.

Gila guided George as the process tumbled forth. He bobbed his head forward and back over his mate’s intimate sex, cradling his balls and moving his hips as a natural matter overtook the gecko. George tried to concentrate, but the steely grasp of his sacred tunnel overrode him with their urgency. He pistoned his hips back and forth, swooning in the warmth of his mate’s mouth. His rear hole unclenched and spread and his bowels started pushing a heavy, firm mass out of his body. The gecko’s mind did backflips as Gila’s tongue nudged him toward climax while his canal gaped and unloaded, stretching around a shaft of natural imperative. His ring rasped as a thick turd fell from under his tail and landed on his husband’s chest. George felt his dick pulled into Gila’s mouth, then a couple fingers rubbed his smudged hole. Sensation rocked him from the head of his shaft to the tip of his tail, and especially the spasming ring in between.

Gila slipped his finger into George’s smeared passage and the gecko shuddered. The gecko held tight to the bed’s headboard, suspended above this pit of pleasure. He saw his husband’s loving face, Gila’s lips wrapped around the majority of his organ, and he nervously smiled. The earthy, swampy smell of his loosed burden was already tickling their nostrils. With a desirous smile in the corners of his maw, the cat pushed another finger into George’s slickened passage and tickled his intimate walls. With a tug and a push, he started his husband back into motion, and that jolt was the final one to push him over. The gecko growled as his balls drew up and his ring clenched around Gila’s fingers.

Getting pumped from both sides, George lurched and erupted into Gila’s mouth. Every throb, throwing thick spurts down the cat’s gullet, was accompanied by frisky, insistent thrusts of his fingers. Gila was fucking him as hard as he was fucking Gila, regardless of size difference. His asshole gaped and clenched, relentlessly penetrated as his groin gushed its sweet seed.

“Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn,” George gasped as he see-sawed back and forth, giving and getting deep, intimate thrusts. Gila must have hit a pipeline, because the gecko’s gut gurgled again and heavy, solid waste rattled down his line. With the fingers spreading him open, George couldn’t even cinch himself shut, and felt his other end fill up and then loose a thick cable of dung.

Squeezing his sphincter only crimped the scat that escaped him, and it rolled up into a sturdy coil right on Gila’s chest. His asshole rasped and crackled, and the smell about the room was as dominant as a dragon’s secret hoard. “H-holy fuck,” George stuttered as his shitting ceased and his orgasm dribbled. Both ends of him felt vexed, having the sweet, painful fatigue of hard exercise. He flexed to close his tailhole, but the cable was still fixed, leaving him gaped and connected to the mess on Gila’s chest.

“Shit,” he grumbled, but before he could reach back Gila caught his paw—thankfully with the one maneuvering his hip, and pulled the slick cock out of his mouth to kiss George in the crux of his balls and leg. George flinched, because it was a few critical inches away from his open ass, but then Gila looked up at him and smiled. His maw was wet with saliva and seed, and the cat had to swallow a couple times to clear the glue from his throat.

“Hey, baby; how you doing?” he asked. The first impressive turd he’d passed was nestled between the leg of his jeans and Gila’s hip. George could feel the bed gently shaking; the cat was stroking himself with his other … smudgier … paw.

“I dunno if I feel violated or embarrassed,” the gecko said. His cock was hanging, sticky, from his front, and a cudgel of feces was still dangling from his ass, stretching him open. If he sat, there was a chance he’d shove it back in.

“How about satisfied?” Gila said. “You let everything out, marked your territory, and indulged in feral delight.”

“I took a shit on your chest.”

“A really big shit,” Gila said, leaning up to kiss his scrotum and his thigh again. His paw left his prick and pushed George’s dirty column sideways, breaking it and letting his hole close. “And I loved it. I’m not gonna rub it into my fur, but this is your load that I took. Two of them, even. Will you let me take care of you? I’ll clean you in the shower, too.”

George coughed; the humid atmosphere of his raw dung was ringing his alarm bells: it was time to clean and get out of here.

“Mind if I finish?” asked Gila. “I’m really close.”

“All for you, baby,” George sighed, trying a smile. There was something oddly intimate about him having performed an objectively filthy act, yet his mate was all grins and boners.

“Thanks, love,” Gila said, then put George’s spent, glazed penis back in his mouth to suckle. The gecko leaned forward, letting the cat immerse himself in his sexual reverie, though blushed and flinched as Gila’s fingers re-enter his dirty rear end. The cat dug deep, making the gecko’s eyes bulge; and his rectum was stretched, poked, and plundered by a rapid paw. Gila spelunked and looted, pulling clods, smears, everything out of his private reserve. Hunks rolled down the cat’s chest, bumping against George’s legs, and then Gila jerked.

His mouth sucked the gecko’s semi-flaccid organ into its cavern, and warm ropes of spunk hit the back of George’s formerly-clean crotchless jeans. Gila gasped as he let his mate’s member go with a pop, and he lay back on the bed. “Oh God! Ah; that was nice,” he said.

George looked behind him and even despite his thick tail, he could see the turds, clumps, and smears all over his husband’s body and the legs of his jeans. Gila had splurted all over his stomach as well, and the underside of George’s tail. Sexual sobriety sat in the gecko’s gut like a cup of strong coffee, invigorating yet nauseating. Did he love fully expressing himself to his husband, entrusting himself to Gila’s frisky arms, mouth, and penis? Sure. At the same time, there was something strangely wrong about taking a dump on his husband’s chest.

“I’m gonna shower,” said George, swinging a leg over to dismount. One of his logs, and a few nuggets of waste, rolled onto their formerly clean sheets. The room stank of raw feces, and Gila lay amidst George’s filthy pile. But at the same time … it could all be cleaned. What was a toilet besides a euphemism for all their bodily necessities?

“I’m … actually I’ll clean this up and I’ll join you if you’re still there,” said Gila. “Feel free to take one of your lobster-boil showers.”

“I kinda intend to.”

“You okay, love?” Gila asked, brushing himself off and carefully standing up on all fours, trying to avoid mashing George’s scat into their sheets or his fur. His belly was drenched in cum, and brown smears spotted his chest and sides. George felt a brief sense of revulsion—how dare he marry this filthy animal—but no, no; that wasn’t fair. They’d gotten dirty together. Hell or high water, holiness and degeneracy.

“I will be, yes,” George said, then couldn’t help but smirk as his rump pulsed, remembering Gila’s excavation. “Sheesh. That was crazy.”

“Crazy good?” asked Gila.

George squinted. He was already getting half-stiff, standing in front of Gila with his cock hanging out and his smudged ass sticking out the back. “Crazy and good. Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, sweetie. You can do that anytime to me, okay?”

The gecko froze as he moved toward the bathroom. “Ehm, sure. I think I’m gonna ration my dumps.”

Gila and George laughed, then they got to their ablution and absolution.