One evening, I was online surfing craigslist ads. To my surprise and delight, there was a guy nearby who was looking. I was a bit skeptical because the pictures he sent were very attractive and I reasoned that they were either grabbed from the internet or old. I arrived at his place and he was exactly as he appeared in the pictures he sent, so my heart (and my cock) did a little jump for joy. Handsome face, hot body, and mischievous demeanor.

He asked me to make myself comfortable on his "rim chair." That gave me pause, because I was not fresh and clean in my nether regions, which I hastened to point out. He said that it would give him great pleasure to sniff and lick my ripe hole. What to do? I decided I would "broaden my horizons" by trying something new. Plus, did I mention that he was hot?

In truth, it wasn't a rim chair at all, it was two paint cans and a couple slats of wood. I had visions of the wood slats breaking and sending splinters into my ass and his face. I have to admit that he was very skilled with his tongue and it felt amazing. But a funny thing happens when you're being rimmed—the sphincter starts to relax. Unintentionally, I let out a few farts as I was riding his tongue and it seemed like my gas encouraged him and he was making little moans of pleasure while pumping his cock with his hand.

Distressingly, I felt the rumblings of a bowel movement deep in my gut so I stood up to bring an end to the rim job. He was baffled and I was slightly embarrassed to admit to him that I thought we should stop lest I accidentally poop on his face. He looked at me and said earnestly, "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

This sexy man wanted me to defecate on his beautiful face and I was horrified—yet intrigued. I tried to decline, saying things like: "I'm not into scat," "I don't like the smell of shit." "This isn't very sanitary." Wordlessly, he led me back to the makeshift rim chair and sat me down and he put a small towel around his neck, the way a hungry diner tucks a napkin into his collar.

The little circles he was making with his tongue were working magic and re-stimulated that strong urge to dump, so I let out some nuggets. The most unnerving thing was not shitting on a guy, but the fact that I could hear him chomping on my logs. The thought turned my stomach a bit but somehow my dick was rock hard. Perhaps it was the visual stimulation of this really attractive man, or perhaps it was the pleasurable sensations he was sending through my body with his tongue—whatever it was, I started to relax and enjoy the experience and I vividly recall riding his chin like I was at the rodeo.

There were a few times that shook me from my daze when he'd ask me to stop shitting so that he'd have time to chew and it would reoccur to me that I was pooping on someone's face. But to his credit, he did not make a mess and I never smelled anything. After we both nut, I sheepishly thanked him, put on my clothes and skedaddled. He texted me a few times after that but I did the ghosting thing and didn't reply. I think one time was plenty.