EILEEN & ADELE

Eileen and Adele came into my life when I was forty and finally sobering up. They were both (finally) eighteen and from good homes and were definitely a good influence on my withdrawals. Eileen mysteriously appeared shortly after the Revolutionary Communist Party opened a bookstore beneath my studio in Cincinnati. It turns out that her older sister Rose Bohman was one of the organizers. I think they planted young Eileen in my studio, to corrupt and subvert me to their nefarious ends. It didn't work, however, and so I ended up fucking the shit out of Eileen for the next year. Literally. fucked the shit out of her.

And then along came Adele. She came in the door with Wendy, a young woman who would in due time become a violist with the Cincinnati Symphony. The two used to run around my studio naked and have a lot of fun together. I ended up fucking the shit out of Adele too (although it was really Wendy I wanted).

Well, to be absolutely accurate -- whereas I fucked the shit out of Eileen, it was a slightly different episode with Adele. With Adele, I had to dig the shit out with my hands -- there was really no fucking involved.

I fondly remember these two young ladies as The Shitters, because that's what they liked to do. But who am I to say whether they enjoyed it or not? I will say that they exhibited a passion for shitting that was as fanatical an expression as any I'd ever seen anywhere, especially in Adele's case. It was more than a need they expressed - it was a passion akin to that of an Olympic athlete in training. Indeed, they practiced the act of shitting rigorously and for long hours, and sometimes I felt the only reason they kept me around was to act as their trainer.

Although the two never met, they both had in common an intense proclivity to shit themselves. Adele came into my life first, and would appear at random times during the week and involve me in her toilet passions. Eileen came later that year, moved into an adjacent room and spent many of her days and nights for the next twelve months down on her knees in the middle of my studio, shitting herself whenever I touched her. Encountering the two women as I did, one after the other, was like graduating from high school and going on to higher education!

Although Adele came first, I will say that she was the more advanced course. The main course, if you will. But these two women definitely delivered two different experiences - it wasn't like going from 101 to 102! Eileen was constipated most of the time, and she had me tie her up and fuck her in the ass until it started to ooze out in little squiggles - not very attractive I'm afraid. Actually she wanted me to tie her down to the floor, her body and her hands, with only her spread ass exposed and up in the air for me to fuck.

It was hard work-- fucking her for a while, pulling out and letting it ooze all over -- then back in for another reaming. We'd repeat this procedure over and over and over until there was nothing left but a translucent brown glaze over everything from my dick to the hardwood floor beneath us. Finally, when all the shit was out of her, she would reinsert me inside her pussy and fuck me with the abandonment of a masturbating schoolgirl. I'm still not sure if she wanted sex with me or she just wanted to use me as a nightly enema. Apparently both. It was okay, really, but it seemed a little self-serving on her part. Odd at first, I eventually grew to like it.

But Adele was different - and in a way, preferable. She definitely didn't want to be tied up or down - she wanted all of her parts and appendages free to participate. She was definitely one horny young teen! At the same time, she was really into huge shitting. It was a fantastic combination! Oh, I imagine she had (still has?) the same neurotic need for a human enema that Eileen did -- the chick was definitely uptight. But with Adele, it wasn't a clinical procedure, like it was for Eileen. For Adele, it was akin to a classical case of possession. She used to just work herself into a trance and slide her ass down onto my hand and start shitting. Of course it didn't happen that quickly. There was a definite ritual to it all, an unspoken chemical formula needing to be unleashed according to its intrinsic pattern.

For instance, we'd start out with some heavy petting, mainly with her sitting on a stool (no pun intended) and me standing over her administering elongated wet kisses to her mouth. all the while carrying on a casual conversation about something unrelated to what we were doing. It always started out innocent like that, but soon her skirt would be up around her waist and her panties would be soaking wet, with my own sweaty palm cuddling and adding to the moist package. And of course it was always at this point she would guide my hand into and behind the cloth, and up inside her pussy, fingers first but then the entire hand. And that was usually good for a half hour, milking her pussy and turning it into a virtual fountain of youth. She kept it wet and she kept her own hand clasped around mine at the wrist, guiding it in and out, and rubbing the juices all over her engorged pulsating orifice. A typical teenage pursuit. so far.

But then, always without warning, her eyes would glaze over and the act would abruptly change from an innocent kiss and heavy petting to a dark and lusty exploration of her hind parts. I could never tell the exact moment the change would take place. I'd still be standing, but by then she would have - not one, but both my hands clasped in hers, guiding them into her: the left one went up her cunt, and she'd work the right one up into her ass, one finger at a time. The initial entry was always clumsy, as her up-tightness dissolved itself into whimpers and cries, and I could feel the clumps of shit clinging to the inside of her anus. But to the task I bent myself, squeezing and kneading those odorous little mud pies between my thumb and fingers, coaxing them out into her waiting panties.

She had "instructed" me in this procedure very carefully over the months, making sure that the tight little balls were soft and pliable - really, transposed into a kind of viscous liquid puree - before I moved them out of her. So the lumps didn't exactly drop out and plop into her panties. because always at the precise moment Adele would pull my hand out and use the now liquefied contents to massage her entire ass, working it into her skin like suntan lotion or skin moisturizer. The effect was to coat her entire bottom with a fine velvet feeling.

Those first loosened clumps were like the breeching of a dam, and then, boy oh boy, would the flood follow. Soon she'd be sitting there atop both my hands, fucking them with total abandonment -- the left one soaked with cum and piss, the right one coated with an earthy brown velvet glaze. It matched the glaze in her eyes, as her head rolled back and her mouth emitted little moans and the saliva rolled down her chin and mixed with the gathering sweat beneath her neck and armpits.

The best part I think was when she finally eased her orifices up and off my hands and started to really shit. It was an ecstasy of sorts, for her, for sure. But it was also quite a sensation for me - it was warm and felt good, and filled my hands to overflowing. It was still shit, for sure, but now fully heated and pasteurized, with an uncanny texture that only sex and birth can perhaps suggest. And if she was reluctant at first -- a little anal - it was not so evident with her sitting up there on the throne, gushing all over the place. It was exciting to be a part of her as she'd come jerking out of her semi-trance state and stick her tongue down my throat, at the same time pissing and shitting all over my open hands, and with her own hands, rub the refuge into her thighs and belly.

She never got around to ramming my face down into the mess - and for that, I guess I'm thankful, but yet, her mouth reflected the sensations and tastes and smells well enough. It was all rather taboo and delicious! Of course I would have licked that smooth asshole of hers clean, shit included, had she ventured that far into her depravity. I was certainly into Adele's advances, and wherever they led to, I was ready to follow. But alas, I never had to eat her out as part of the bargain.

Afterwards she would revert back to a normal girl, pull down her skirt, and wipe off in the bathroom and leave. Maybe once a week she'd visit, and I think she didn't shit the whole rest of the week. Whether she was using me or not, it sure was one wild sex organ she pumped up and laid out there for the afternoon's consideration. I couldn't imagine having a better time doing anything else, even if we would have actually fucked instead. I should have saved the soiled panties, but she never really took them off or left them lying around.

Eileen, on the other hand, as I said, was not so free flowing. she'd be riding me with her ass on fire, but every time she'd pull me out there would only be a thin trickle of knotted ooze that would never even make it down the length of my dick. On the other hand, Adele would have covered the floor and me as well, but I could never get her to mount me or even down on her knees for a good dog fuck. Oh well. maybe the girl who combines both skills will show up before I put the finishing touches on this story. And that will be a different story indeed!

As a footnote in closing, it's interesting that neither Adele nor Eileen were into pissing. You would think that shitting and pissing would go hand in hand. At least when I shit, I want to piss too. Isn't that the norm? I never saw Eileen do it, even after she shat all over the place. I guess she just held it in until she made her way into the bathroom and got more private. And from what I could make out about Adele, that heavy wetness coming from between her legs was just an abundance of pussy juices, not urine. Still it was copious all right, so I can't be too sure what came gushing out of there during those magnificent and surreal afternoons. In hindsight, I don't think it matters. As the youth are nowadays so fond of saying. it's all good.


	"EILEEN & ADELE" Burkhart's stories are not fiction. They really happen. They are True and Factual Documents. The names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent. These are stories about venturing out and beyond innocence. Eileen and Adele came into my life when I was forty and finally sobering up. They were both (finally) eighteen and from good homes and were definitely a good influence on my withdrawals. Eileen mysteriously appeared shortly after the Revolutionary Communist Party opened a bookstore beneath my studio in Cincinnati. It turns out that her older sister Rose Bohman was one of the organizers. I think they planted young Eileen in my studio, to corrupt and subvert me to their nefarious ends. It didn't work, however, and so I ended up fucking the shit out of Eileen for the next year. Literally. fucked the shit out of her. And then along came Adele. She came in the door with Wendy, a young woman who would in due time become a violist with the Cincinnati Symphony. The two used to run around my studio naked and have a lot of fun together. I ended up fucking the shit out of Adele too (although it was really Wendy I wanted). Well, to be absolutely accurate -- whereas I fucked the shit out of Eileen, it was a slightly different episode with Adele. With Adele, I had to dig the shit out with my hands -- there was really no fucking involved. I fondly remember these two young ladies as The Shitters, because that's what they liked to do. But who am I to say whether they enjoyed it or not? I will say that they exhibited a passion for shitting that was as fanatical an expression as any I'd ever seen anywhere, especially in Adele's case. It was more than a need they expressed - it was a passion akin to that of an Olympic athlete in training. Indeed, they practiced the act of shitting rigorously and for long hours, and sometimes I felt the only reason they kept me around was to act as their trainer. Although the two never met, they both had in common an intense proclivity to shit themselves. Adele came into my life first, and would appear at random times during the week and involve me in her toilet passions. Eileen came later that year, moved into an adjacent room and spent many of her days and nights for the next twelve months down on her knees in the middle of my studio, shitting herself whenever I touched her. Encountering the two women as I did, one after the other, was like graduating from high school and going on to higher education! Although Adele came first, I will say that she was the more advanced course. The main course, if you will. But these two women definitely delivered two different experiences - it wasn't like going from 101 to 102! Eileen was constipated most of the time, and she had me tie her up and fuck her in the ass until it started to ooze out in little squiggles - not very attractive I'm afraid. Actually she wanted me to tie her down to the floor, her body and her hands, with only her spread ass exposed and up in the air for me to fuck. It was hard work-- fucking her for a while, pulling out and letting it ooze all over -- then back in for another reaming. We'd repeat this procedure over and over and over until there was nothing left but a translucent brown glaze over everything from my dick to the hardwood floor beneath us. Finally, when all the shit was out of her, she would reinsert me inside her pussy and fuck me with the abandonment of a masturbating schoolgirl. I'm still not sure if she wanted sex with me or she just wanted to use me as a nightly enema. Apparently both. It was okay, really, but it seemed a little self-serving on her part. Odd at first, I eventually grew to like it. But Adele was different - and in a way, preferable. She definitely didn't want to be tied up or down - she wanted all of her parts and appendages free to participate. She was definitely one horny young teen! At the same time, she was really into huge shitting. It was a fantastic combination! Oh, I imagine she had (still has?) the same neurotic need for a human enema that Eileen did -- the chick was definitely uptight. But with Adele, it wasn't a clinical procedure, like it was for Eileen. For Adele, it was akin to a classical case of possession. She used to just work herself into a trance and slide her ass down onto my hand and start shitting. Of course it didn't happen that quickly. There was a definite ritual to it all, an unspoken chemical formula needing to be unleashed according to its intrinsic pattern. For instance, we'd start out with some heavy petting, mainly with her sitting on a stool (no pun intended) and me standing over her administering elongated wet kisses to her mouth. all the while carrying on a casual conversation about something unrelated to what we were doing. It always started out innocent like that, but soon her skirt would be up around her waist and her panties would be soaking wet, with my own sweaty palm cuddling and adding to the moist package. And of course it was always at this point she would guide my hand into and behind the cloth, and up inside her pussy, fingers first but then the entire hand. And that was usually good for a half hour, milking her pussy and turning it into a virtual fountain of youth. She kept it wet and she kept her own hand clasped around mine at the wrist, guiding it in and out, and rubbing the juices all over her engorged pulsating orifice. A typical teenage pursuit. so far. But then, always without warning, her eyes would glaze over and the act would abruptly change from an innocent kiss and heavy petting to a dark and lusty exploration of her hind parts. I could never tell the exact moment the change would take place. I'd still be standing, but by then she would have - not one, but both my hands clasped in hers, guiding them into her: the left one went up her cunt, and she'd work the right one up into her ass, one finger at a time. The initial entry was always clumsy, as her up-tightness dissolved itself into whimpers and cries, and I could feel the clumps of shit clinging to the inside of her anus. But to the task I bent myself, squeezing and kneading those odorous little mud pies between my thumb and fingers, coaxing them out into her waiting panties. She had "instructed" me in this procedure very carefully over the months, making sure that the tight little balls were soft and pliable - really, transposed into a kind of viscous liquid puree - before I moved them out of her. So the lumps didn't exactly drop out and plop into her panties. because always at the precise moment Adele would pull my hand out and use the now liquefied contents to massage her entire ass, working it into her skin like suntan lotion or skin moisturizer. The effect was to coat her entire bottom with a fine velvet feeling. Those first loosened clumps were like the breeching of a dam, and then, boy oh boy, would the flood follow. Soon she'd be sitting there atop both my hands, fucking them with total abandonment -- the left one soaked with cum and piss, the right one coated with an earthy brown velvet glaze. It matched the glaze in her eyes, as her head rolled back and her mouth emitted little moans and the saliva rolled down her chin and mixed with the gathering sweat beneath her neck and armpits. The best part I think was when she finally eased her orifices up and off my hands and started to really shit. It was an ecstasy of sorts, for her, for sure. But it was also quite a sensation for me - it was warm and felt good, and filled my hands to overflowing. It was still shit, for sure, but now fully heated and pasteurized, with an uncanny texture that only sex and birth can perhaps suggest. And if she was reluctant at first -- a little anal - it was not so evident with her sitting up there on the throne, gushing all over the place. It was exciting to be a part of her as she'd come jerking out of her semi-trance state and stick her tongue down my throat, at the same time pissing and shitting all over my open hands, and with her own hands, rub the refuge into her thighs and belly. She never got around to ramming my face down into the mess - and for that, I guess I'm thankful, but yet, her mouth reflected the sensations and tastes and smells well enough. It was all rather taboo and delicious! Of course I would have licked that smooth asshole of hers clean, shit included, had she ventured that far into her depravity. I was certainly into Adele's advances, and wherever they led to, I was ready to follow. But alas, I never had to eat her out as part of the bargain. Afterwards she would revert back to a normal girl, pull down her skirt, and wipe off in the bathroom and leave. Maybe once a week she'd visit, and I think she didn't shit the whole rest of the week. Whether she was using me or not, it sure was one wild sex organ she pumped up and laid out there for the afternoon's consideration. I couldn't imagine having a better time doing anything else, even if we would have actually fucked instead. I should have saved the soiled panties, but she never really took them off or left them lying around. Eileen, on the other hand, as I said, was not so free flowing. she'd be riding me with her ass on fire, but every time she'd pull me out there would only be a thin trickle of knotted ooze that would never even make it down the length of my dick. On the other hand, Adele would have covered the floor and me as well, but I could never get her to mount me or even down on her knees for a good dog fuck. Oh well. maybe the girl who combines both skills will show up before I put the finishing touches on this story. And that will be a different story indeed! As a footnote in closing, it's interesting that neither Adele nor Eileen were into pissing. You would think that shitting and pissing would go hand in hand. At least when I shit, I want to piss too. Isn't that the norm? I never saw Eileen do it, even after she shat all over the place. I guess she just held it in until she made her way into the bathroom and got more private. And from what I could make out about Adele, that heavy wetness coming from between her legs was just an abundance of pussy juices, not urine. Still it was copious all right, so I can't be too sure what came gushing out of there during those magnificent and surreal afternoons. In hindsight, I don't think it matters. As the youth are nowadays so fond of saying. it's all good. Story and photo copyright 2002 by Fred Burkhart www.BurkhartStudios.com