Honeymoon

by Arthur Saxon
meganeura@hotmail.com

“Oh my gosh!” Sophia exclaimed, running to the window and staring at the view. “What a place for our honeymoon!”

I smiled at my golden-haired bride happily. “Didn’t I tell you?” I said.

“You did!” she acknowledged. “This place is beautiful!”

“It is,” I agreed. “But not half as beautiful as you, my darling.”

She giggled, and trotted over to me, putting her arms around my neck. Her pretty blue eyes stared into mine. “Do you want to go out exploring?” she inquired. “Or … do you want to start our wedding night a little early?”

I grinned. “Tempting!” I said. “But I still need to buy condoms, remember … unless you want a baby in nine months.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “But we agreed to wait, so … I guess we should get you some condoms first. I think it’s so funny that you were too embarrassed to get some at Rite Aid!”

“Daryl was working there,” I said apologetically. “At the checkout. I’d totally forgotten he might be there. Anyway I couldn’t face buying condoms from him; he’d have teased me about it.”

Sophia laughed. “Well don’t worry, I’m sure there’s a pharmacy somewhere around here.”

“I’m sure there is,” I agreed. “Although they call them ‘chemists’ here.” I stifled a yawn.

“Poor thing, you look so tired!” she said. “You barely got any sleep on the plane. Are you sure you don’t just want to take a nap?”

“No no, absolutely not,” I said firmly. “I’m much too excited about being here in this wonderful place with my brand new wife. Let’s explore. Hopefully we’ll come across a chemist, but if not, I’ll ask at reception. They might even sell condoms here in the hotel.”

“Okay!” said Sophia. “I’m just going to have a shower and change first, though – I’ve been in these clothes for almost twenty-four hours.”

I nodded. “Me too!” I said.

“Oh – would you like to use the shower first?” Sophia asked.

“No no,” I replied. “I’m just going to change. I’ll shower later. You go ahead.”

It was almost noon when Sophia emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. I was feeling the need to brush my teeth by this time, so I gave her some privacy while she got dressed, and took my sponge bag into the bathroom. While I was in there, I also shaved and used the toilet.

Sophia was already dressed when I rejoined her. “Wow!” I said, wide-eyed. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so … sexy!”

For sexy she certainly looked. In stark contrast with the jeans and sweatshirt she had worn for the flight, she now wore a strappy green sundress that stopped halfway down her thighs and revealed more than a little of her lovely cleavage.

“My eyes are up here, Clem,” she said playfully.

I hastily looked up. “Sorry!”

She laughed. “I don’t mind!” she said. “It means this dress is having the desired effect. Come on, let’s go exploring.”

We took the stairs down to the lobby, and were on our way to the front door when a man’s voice called out to us.

“Sophia? Sophia Gresham? Is that you?”

We both stopped in our tracks, and turned to face the speaker. He was about my height, but thinner, with rather angular features and hunched shoulders that, along with his black hair and black clothes, made him look like some kind of gothic villain.

“Oh no,” Sophia muttered.

“It IS you!” said the man excitedly. “What a surprise! Wow, you look great!”

“Hi Mitchell,” said Sophia, looking uncomfortable. “I didn’t expect to see you here either. This is my fi… my husband, Clem. Clem, this is Mitchell – my ex.”

“Oh!” I said. “Small world, huh? Nice to meet you, Mitchell.”

We shook hands, and he looked me up and down appraisingly. “You guys just get here?” he asked. “How long are you staying?”

“A week,” said Sophia reluctantly. “This is our honeymoon.”

“Congratulations!” said Mitchell. “You’re a lucky man, Clem. Sophia’s a treasure.”

“She is,” I agreed guardedly. “And I am. So what brings you here, Mitchell?”

“Work,” he said ruefully. “Conference in Glasgow. Figured I should take some time to enjoy one of the prettier parts of Scotland while I’m here. Found this place online, booked a week … and I guess I booked the same week as you! What a coincidence!”

“Yeah,” said Sophia unhappily. She sighed, then forced a smile. “So how have you been?”

“Good,” said Mitchell. “Been through a lot since we were together, I can tell you. But heck, why stand around here? Let me buy you both a drink at the local pub. I was just heading out there for lunch. Why don’t you join me? We can catch up, reminisce about old times…”

“Thanks, but we have plans,” said Sophia, fidgeting awkwardly.

“We do need to find somewhere to have lunch,” I mused.

“Then that settles it!” said Mitchell. “The pub does great lunches, I’m told. Come on – I’m dying to hear what you’ve been up to for the past four years, Sophia. And I can get to know Clem, maybe play a little pool…”

Sophia looked to me for a decision, and my cheeks coloured. “Um, I was thinking we would have a bit of a wander first…” I ventured.

“You can wander afterwards,” said Mitchell firmly. “Come on, do I have to beg? I’ll even buy lunch for the both of you. Please? For old times’ sake?”

Sophia sighed, and shrugged.

I took that to mean she was persuaded. “All right,” I said. “You win, Mitchell. Lead the way.”

It was a five-minute walk to the pub, and Mitchell talked for most of the way. When we arrived, we found it quite busy inside, but Mitchell managed to snag us an unoccupied table in the corner. “Check out the menu,” he said, “and I’ll get us some drinks. What’s your poison, Clem?”

“I’ll just have a coke please,” I said.

He stared at me. “Not a drinker?” he inquired.

I shook my head. “I’m not all that fond of alcoholic drinks, and given how expensive they tend to be, I just don’t see the point,” I said. “I like my senses the way they are; I don’t feel the need to dull them with a drug.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. “Sophia, though, unless you’ve radically changed since high school, I’m sure you’ll have something stronger. Rum and coke, perhaps?”

“No, I’ll just have water, thanks,” said Sophia, a little stiffly.

Mitchell smirked. “Come now, Sophia, don’t be like that. You can’t tell me you’ve gone completely teetotal. You loved the cocktails I used to make for you at my dad’s house! Clem, is this your doing? Have you pressured Sophia into giving up the drinks she used to love?”

“No, of course not,” I replied, a little huffily. “But she’s underage! She doesn’t turn twenty-one until next January.”

“She’s old enough here!” Mitchell reminded me. “Drinking age is eighteen on this side of the pond.”

“Oh yes,” I said. “Fine. Darling, feel free to have a cocktail if you want. Don’t let me hold you back.”

Sophia hesitated. “Oh, all right,” she said. “I want something local, though. What do they have here?”

“I’ve been sampling some local whiskies while I’ve been here,” said Mitchell, “and a liqueur called Drambuie. But I don’t know about a Scottish cocktails. I’ll ask the barman.” He got to his feet, and headed for the bar.

“Ugh, this is awful!” said Sophia unhappily. “I thought I’d seen the last of that guy. He’s a horrible man!”

“In what way?” I asked, looking over at Mitchell as he squeezed between two hulking Scotsmen. “He seems all right on first impression.”

“We were together for six months,” said Sophia. “I was sixteen, he was twenty. I thought he was nice, at first. I’d just been dumped by another boy, Vinnie, because he wanted sex and I wanted to wait. Mitchell said I should wait as long as I wanted – even until marriage if I chose. He was so supportive! And he wooed me so sweetly. I started going out with him because I figured he wouldn’t pressure me into sex. Unfortunately he pressured me into other things…”

“What things?” I asked.

She shuddered. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, he made me feel like I had to give in to his demands, because he was being so understanding about me keeping my virginity. And the demands got worse and worse…. Eventually my mom caught me in a horribly embarrassing situation, and she told my dad, and he went ballistic. He refused to let Mitchell see me again … and while I was mad about it at first … I was secretly so relieved! And after a few months, when I had a new boyfriend in college, I came to realise just how vile and manipulative Mitchell was.” She grimaced. “And to think I was actually in love with him! I came THIS close to letting him take my virginity.” She held up her forefinger and thumb, their tips very close together.

“Jeez!” I said, appalled. “And now we’re having drinks with this guy? We should just get up and leave, while he’s at the bar!”

She looked over at the bar. “Maybe,” she agreed.

I put my hands on the table, preparing to get up. Then I hesitated. “It does seem a little cowardly, though. We should at least tell him we’re going.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sophia acknowledged.

Mitchell returned, very carefully carrying three full glasses. He set them down slowly, then passed one of them to me. “Your coke, sir,” he said. Then he slid another glass over to Sophia. “That, my darling, is a Hootenanny! Made from Drambuie and pink grapefruit juice, amongst other things. I told the barman you wanted something local; this was his recommendation.”

“Thank you,” said Sophia, eyeing the glass warily.

“Actually,” I said awkwardly, “I was thinking we might just make a move. We thought we might do a bit of exploring before lunch.”

“Now come on, Clem,” said Mitchell reprovingly. “You agreed to have lunch with me, and I’ve just bought your drinks. Don’t weasel out now. I’m sure you’re not entirely comfortable having lunch with your wife’s ex, but surely we can all be adults?”

I looked at Sophia, who pursed her lips, then shrugged. “All right,” I conceded, before taking a swig of my coke.

Sophia sipped her drink, then raised her eyebrows.

“How is it?” Mitchell asked.

“Not bad,” Sophia replied. “Quite interesting actually.”

“Good!” said Mitchell, pleased. “So tell me – how did you guys meet?”

“We met in college,” I said. “I was a postgrad, she was a sophomore … actually I was her adviser, so we weren’t strictly supposed to date…”

“Naughty, naughty!” said Mitchell with a chuckle.

Sophia was looking at me rather sternly, and I realised she did not want me to go into further detail. “Anyway, we decided to get married as soon as possible, to make it official … and here we are, on our honeymoon.”

“So you got married … yesterday?” Mitchell inquired.

I nodded. “It’s been a busy day and a half!” I said. “Wedding, reception, then a dash to the airport to catch our flight. We landed in Glasgow this morning, rented a car, and drove here.”

Mitchell licked his lips thoughtfully. “Not much of a wedding night, then, on the plane,” he remarked. “Unless you joined the mile-high club!”

“No, of course not,” I said hastily, just as Sophia said “None of your business, Mitchell!”

Mitchell smirked. “Well now I’m deeply curious,” he said. “Sophia, you swore you were going to keep your virginity until your wedding night. Did college change your mind…? Or is Clem going to pop your cherry tonight?”

“None of your business!” said Sophia firmly, as I wisely kept my mouth shut.

Mitchell grinned. “Interesting!” he said, looking from Sophia to me. “Well, I’m happy for you both. Looks like you’re meant for each other. If I may be so bold, I propose a toast.” He raised his glass. “To Sophia and Clem! I wish you a long and happy marriage.”

“Thank you,” I said, and I took another swig of coke.

Sophia drank from her own glass, which, I was surprised to see, was already half-empty.

Mitchell sighed. “You know, Sophia, it took me a long time to get over you. You were like a beacon of light in my dull and lonely life. Since you left me … I’ve never had a relationship that came anywhere close to what you and I had.”

“Neither have I, thank goodness,” Sophia muttered. She tipped back her glass, and finished her drink.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” said Mitchell, wiping beer froth from his lip. “We had some good times together, you and me. I’m sorry your mom caught you in a … a compromising position … but other than that, you have to admit you had some fun times with me.”

“Some,” Sophia admitted. “When you weren’t making me do gross stuff.”

“Making you?” said Mitchell in surprise. “I didn’t ‘make’ you do anything, Sophia. I had a fetish, which you seemed willing to indulge … and as far as I could tell, you enjoyed doing it. You said you did, at any rate. Were you not being honest with me?”

Sophia shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I was trying to make you happy,” she said.

“So you weren’t being honest with me,” said Mitchell, frowning a little. “Either that, or you’re not being honest now – with yourself and with me. Because I must say, you did a good job of convincing me you were having fun at the time.” He finished his beer. “Have you both decided what you want to eat?”

Sophia, who was getting quite red in the face, seemed glad to change the subject. “I think I’ll have the cod,” she said.

“And you, Clem?” Mitchell asked.

“Roast chicken for me,” I replied. “Thanks.”

“I’ll go and place our order then,” said Mitchell. “And get myself another drink. You want another coke, Clem?”

“I’m good,” I said. “Still working on this one.”

Mitchell turned to Sophia. “Another Hootenanny for you?”

“I shouldn’t,” said Sophia. “It was good, but one is enough.”

“Are you sure?” said Mitchell. “You should have something to go with your food…”

“No thank you,” said Sophia shortly.

“Suit yourself,” said Mitchell. “I’ll be right back.” He got up and returned to the bar.

“Well I guess we’ve committed to having lunch with him,” said Sophia, a little grumpily. “But please, let’s get away from him as soon as we’re done.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “I’ve no desire to spend any more time with him than we have to. This is our honeymoon! I want to spend it with you, not your horrible and manipulative ex.”

Sophia sighed. “I’m sorry, Clem. I had no idea he would be here.”

“How could you have?” I replied with a shrug. “This isn’t your fault, my love. But it is what it is. Let’s just make the best of it, and ditch him at the first opportunity.”

“I would drink to that,” said Sophia wryly, “if I hadn’t finished my drink.”

It was not long before Mitchell returned … with two drinks. He set one of them down in front of Sophia. “I know, I know,” he said apologetically. “You said you didn’t want another. Don’t feel obliged to drink it. I just thought your fish and chips are likely to make you kinda thirsty.”

Sophia sighed. “I’d have been quite happy with water, but whatever. Thank you.”

“So, I guess you just finished your … junior year?” said Mitchell.

“Sophomore,” Sophia corrected him.

“Oh!” said Mitchell in surprise. “Whirlwind engagement then. What are you studying?”

“Organic chemistry,” she replied.

“And you’re, what, going for a PhD?” Mitchell asked me.

“Masters,” I said. “Maybe a PhD later; we’ll see how it goes.”

“So how did the two of you get, you know, romantic?” Mitchell inquired. “What was the moment when your relationship evolved from adviser-student to … something more?”

I smiled at the memory. “Well, I thought Sophia was gorgeous from the moment I laid eyes on her,” I said. “Of course, so did plenty of her fellow undergrads. But what impressed me about her was her curiosity. She was always full of questions, always wanting to know more. One afternoon I invited her to help me with an experiment I was working on, and at one point we were titrating vegetable oil to find out how much free acid was in it … and I came up with this corny line…”

Sophia giggled. “Yeah you did,” she said. “We were standing on opposite sides of the lab bench, and he said, ‘Is it my imagination or is there some chemistry between us?’”

Mitchell laughed. “Good one!” he said. “What did you reply?”

“Oh, I laughed,” said Sophia. “And then I said, ‘It’s not your imagination.’ And our eyes met, and he smiled at me … and I just knew. I already thought he was nice, and super smart, and kinda cute … and now it was clear he was into me too. So I gave him my number, and things just developed from there.” She picked up her glass, and had a swig of her second Hootenanny.

“They must have developed pretty fast,” Mitchell remarked, “if this was less than a year ago.”

“Yeah, well, we had a couple of reasons to move quickly,” I said. “The first thing was that there’s a rule against grad students dating undergrads they supervise. We kept our relationship pretty clandestine, but I figured if we got caught, it would help if we were officially engaged. And I was head over heels in love with Sophia … I proposed to her less than a month after we started dating.”

“That’s quick!” said Mitchell. “How did you propose? Was it a romantic setting?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted, as Sophia pursed her lips. “It was in the lab. I was on my own in there, and I was looking at the ring I’d bought for her … when she unexpectedly came in. I closed the box and tried to quickly put it in my pocket, but I missed and it dropped on the floor. I crouched down to pick it up, and happened to be on one knee as she came around the corner of the lab bench. I made a snap decision, held the box up, and said, ‘Hey Sophia … will you marry me?’”

Mitchell chuckled. “And she said yes right away?”

“Not right away,” said Sophia. “I was just kinda shocked at first! I didn’t plan on getting married so soon. I just said, ‘Oh wow, Clem, um … can I think about it?’ And he looked kind of embarrassed, and stood up, and said ‘Yes of course’. And I hated to disappoint him, but I really needed to think! I ran off and left him standing there … and I went to my dorm, and talked to my friend Jax. She was all excited for me, but once she’d calmed down, we had a Mitchell discussion about how I felt about Clem. And that talk really helped me to crystallise my feelings, and I realised I could definitely see myself being married to Clem. So I called him, and we met up in the park, and I told him I would marry him.”

“I was so relieved!” I said. “As I walked to the park, I had no idea what her answer was going to be, and I was half-convinced she was going to break up with me.”

“It all worked out though,” said Mitchell.

“Yeah,” I agreed with a smile. “It did. At first we were going to wait until after Sophia graduated … but then the issue of Sophia’s…” I stopped, suddenly realising I had been about to reveal too much information.

“Virginity?” said Mitchell in amusement. “Yeah, I’m sure the waiting was hard on both of you. So you set a date … that didn’t leave much time for planning, though! Was it a church wedding?”

Sophia, looking a little rattled, put down her glass. “No,” she said. “I’m Catholic, or at least I grew up that way … but Mitchell isn’t religious and didn’t want to convert … and I didn’t want to force him to. So we got married by a waterfall we had visited previously on a hike together. It was pretty low-key – just a few friends and relatives.”

“My Dad happens to be friends with the mayor of my home town,” I continued. “Todd Whitaker. He performed the ceremony.”

“Cool,” said Mitchell. “It’s nice to have connections.”

“Well that’s our story,” I said, surmising that Sophia probably was not very happy about sharing so much information about us with Mitchell. “Tell us about yourself, Mitchell. What have you been up to, the past four years?”

Mitchell shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I graduated from business school, joined an investment firm, worked hard, got a promotion to a nice position that involves a lot of travelling. I love travelling, so it suits me very well. In terms of my love life … well, let’s just say I’ve had a few girlfriends, but none of them have worked out long-term. I’m currently single, and not in a particular hurry to get into another relationship.”

“Footloose and fancy-free, huh?” I said, smiling.

“Exactly,” said Mitchell with a grin. “No attachments, no commitments.” Then his grin faded. “The nights do get a little lonely though, sometimes,” he admitted. “Gotta say, Clem, I envy you.” He looked at Sophia, who had just finished her second drink. “You landed a good one.”

“I did,” I agreed.

The food arrived, and we continued to chat while we ate. Then Mitchell went back to the bar, and returned with yet another Hootenanny, much to Sophia’s annoyance. It was not long, however, before she began sipping at it.

“Well that was good,” I said at last, putting my fork down.

“So was this,” said Sophia, prodding her mostly-empty plate.

“Good! I’m glad,” said Mitchell. “Thank you both for coming to lunch with me. I’ve enjoyed catching up with you, Sophia … though I’m a little sad that you seem to have such bad memories of our time together.”

“It wasn’t ALL bad,” Sophia acknowledged grudgingly.

Mitchell chuckled. “Well that’s nice to know,” he said. “But I’m still disappointed that you’ve grown to hate the things we did together. I know the experience of being caught by your mom must have been mortifying, but I didn’t expect it to completely put you off … you know.”

I felt a little left out. “I’m dying to know what this fetish is that you’re talking about,” I said, a little testily. “You hopefully ought to know, Sophia, that it won’t affect how I feel about you.”

“You should totally tell him,” Mitchell advised her. “It’s not good for married couples to have secrets. And he does seem like the kind of guy who would be very understanding about it.”

“But it’s so … gross!” said Sophia with a shudder. “He’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“You have so little faith in him?” Mitchell inquired.

“It’s not that,” said Sophia hastily. “Of course I have faith in Clem. It’s just … it’s embarrassing!”

“Clem,” said Mitchell, turning to me, “I don’t know you all that well, but my gut tells me you wouldn’t judge Sophia for indulging a gross fetish of mine while she was with me … am I wrong?”

“Of course I wouldn’t judge!” I said firmly, mainly for Sophia’s benefit. “But that doesn’t mean she needs to tell me about it right here and now. I’m naturally curious, but it can wait until Sophia’s feeling more comfortable.”

“Thanks Clem,” said Sophia gratefully. There was not much left of her third drink by now.

“That’s commendable,” said Mitchell, “but it’s also a cop-out. Once I’m out of the way, I suspect you’ll be too nice to push Sophia to reveal her big secret. And so you’ll never know if she really trusts you with the information. The biggest favour I can do you both, I think, is to just come right out and tell you what she used to do … and then you can process it and get past it, and she won’t need to keep any more secrets from you. Because secret-keeping is a bad habit, trust me. Once you get used to hiding one thing from your partner, the next thing becomes easier … and then the next, and the next. Pretty soon you’re living a double life. You don’t want to go down that road, let me tell you.”

Sophia was staring at him in alarm. “Don’t … don’t tell him, Mitchell!” she said anxiously.

Mitchell held up his hands. “Okay, then you tell him. Either way, he ought to know.”

“I really don’t need to…” I began.

“No, Clem, dude, don’t wuss out on me,” said Mitchell firmly. “If you’re sure you can handle the knowledge, let’s get it out in the open. And if you’re not sure … well, that’s a bigger issue that you guys need to discuss.”

“I can handle it,” I insisted.

“Prove it!” said Mitchell. “Not to me, but to yourself and to Sophia. If there’s one thing I can do for you two, it’s this. Go on Sophia – tell him.”

Sophia grimaced. “I used to … uh … I used to…” she began, before hanging her head and shaking it. “No, I can’t!” she said. “I can’t say it.”

“Then I’ll say it for you,” said Mitchell. “Clem, the fact is … Sophia used to poop in her panties for me.”

“Oh God!” Sophia groaned, putting her face in her hands.

“She what?” I asked, startled.

“She pooped in her panties!” Mitchell repeated, grinning in delight. “She would bend over in front of me, pull up her miniskirt – she used to always wear miniskirts in those days – and push out a massive load of poop into her pristine white panties. I loved the sight – that stretchy material just bulging out bigger and bigger as her panties filled up with her soft shit. It was awesome.”

I stared at him, aghast, then at Sophia. “Gross!” I said, feeling quite disturbed. “And you … liked that?”

“Yeah!” said Mitchell happily. “I loved it. She looked so sexy, walking about with her panties all bulging. She would even go out on the street, in a skirt so short it didn’t even fully cover her bulging panties.”

“It was so embarrassing!” Sophia wailed. “Please don’t say any more, Mitchell!”

“You thrived on the embarrassment,” said Mitchell. “You used to say the embarrassment added to the thrill.”

“Just to make you happy!” Sophia insisted, her cheeks bright red and her eyes glistening with tears. “I never actually enjoyed it.”

Mitchell snorted. “I don’t buy that for a minute,” he said. “You’re not that good of an actress. Trust me, Clem, she got a kick out of it.”

“I’ll take Sophia’s word over yours, Mitchell, any day of the week,” I said, frowning. “If she says she didn’t enjoy it, she didn’t enjoy it.”

“Thank you Clem!” said Sophia gratefully. “But … are you … disgusted…?”

I hesitated. “Well,” I said, “yeah, I’ve got to admit the idea does gross me out a bit. I mean … it’s poop! That stuff belongs in the toilet, not in your underwear … unless you’re a baby or really sick or something.” I noted her tragic expression, and added hastily, “I understand though that you were doing it for your boyfriend, and that’s got to take a whole lot of courage and devotion. So for what it’s worth, I kind of admire you for doing it … even though I wouldn’t enjoy seeing it myself.”

“Thanks,” said Sophia, somewhat encouraged.

“Interesting,” said Mitchell. “Just as a hypothetical, Clem … what would you do if Sophia did, in fact, enjoy pooping her panties – as I strongly suspect she did. But no matter if she did or didn’t; this is just hypothetical. Would you support her fetish? Or would you run for the hills?”

“I think it’s a pretty pointless hypothetical,” I said, “since she’s told me she didn’t enjoy it and I believe her.”

“Indulge me!” Mitchell insisted. “You don’t know everything about Sophia and you can’t read her mind. If it’s not panty-pooping it might be something else, equally offensive to your delicate sensibilities. But let’s imagine it’s panty-pooping. If it turned out to be something she wanted to do, would you support her? Or not?”

Sophia looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she changed her mind. She seemed to be awaiting my answer.

“Hmm,” I said. “Well, frankly, that’s an easy question. I’ll support Sophia in anything she wants to do. If she wanted to do something like that … however much it grossed me out, I would do whatever was necessary to make her feel comfortable and safe doing it.”

Sophia smiled at me happily. “Thank you, Clem!” she said. “Good answer. Fortunately you won’t have to put up with anything like that, though.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Yes, it was a very good answer,” he said. “Too good! And I don’t believe a word of it. Clem, you’re a nice guy, but you seem pretty straight-laced and with a standard normie kind of sense of disgust. If you saw Sophia pooping in her panties, you’d probably throw up your lunch and then get as far away from her as possible. You’d insist that she go clean up right away, and you’d implore her never to do it again.”

“No I wouldn’t!” I retorted.

“Hey, relax, it would be a perfectly normal response,” said Mitchell soothingly. “It would devastate Sophia, of course, and she’d never dare to do anything so transgressive ever again … but that would be to your advantage, if you want her to stay ‘normal’.”

His condescending tone was irritating me. “You have no idea how I would react,” I said. “The fact is, I love Sophia and would do anything to make her happy. If that meant giving her encouragement and support while she … filled her panties … I’d do that in a heartbeat.”

“Sure, sure,” said Mitchell, smirking. “It’s easy to say that, though, when you’re sure it’s something she’d never do. If you were genuinely put in that situation, though, I don’t believe for a moment that you’d react that way.”

“I certainly would!” I insisted.

“You willing to bet on that?” Mitchell asked. “Put your money where your mouth is?”

“I don’t see how that would work,” I said tersely. “And I don’t gamble, thank you very much.”

“A gentleman’s wager, then,” said Mitchell. “Would that be acceptable?”

“Fine,” I conceded. “But since it’s not going to happen, I’m not sure how you expect to resolve the bet.”

“Simple,” said Mitchell. “I propose that Sophia poops in her panties, right here and now, and we see how you react. If you’re cool with it, I’ll happily eat my words. But I just know you’re going to freak out about it.”

“And why shouldn’t he?” said Sophia hotly. “I’m not going to do that, Mitchell, so forget it! As far as I’m concerned, Clem would be right to freak out!”

“No he wouldn’t!” Mitchell retorted. “Of course he wouldn’t! Are you kidding? What kind of husband would he be if, instead of supporting you, he freaked out at you and publicly berated you? I’m pretty sure that’s not the kind of man you thought you were marrying. Tell me if I’m wrong!”

Sophia subsided a little. “In that regard, you’re not wrong,” she admitted. “But if I did … poop … you know … in my panties … I think he’d have a right to be unhappy about it!”

“Yes!” said Mitchell, nodding and pointing his finger at her. “Right, exactly. But that’s an internal reaction and not one he could help. What he CAN control is how he outwardly reacts, and how he treats you. And, ideally, you want a husband who is warm and supportive, even if you choose to do something he finds disgusting.”

“And I would be that kind of husband,” I assured them both.

“Again, an easy claim to make,” said Mitchell. “But I don’t think that’s true, and Sophia has no reason to, either.”

“I think I do!” said Sophia. “He’s been supportive in everything else I’ve done; why should something like this be any different.”

Mitchell shook his head. “It’s easy to support someone when they’re doing what you want. It’s not so easy to support someone doing what THEY want, especially when it’s something you don’t like or don’t approve of. So far, Clem just hasn’t been tested that way. You have literally no way of knowing what sort of husband he’ll prove to be in that sort of situation … unless you test it.”

“I … I don’t need to test it,” said Sophia uncomfortably. “I trust him.”

“Well sure, you say that because even now, you’re worried about how he’ll react,” said Mitchell. “You may protest otherwise, but deep down, admit it, you’re anxious about him reacting badly. You’re afraid of seeing a look of horror on his face. Of seeing him recoil in disgust. Because that would make you feel as if he finds YOU disgusting now.”

“That wouldn’t happen,” I said firmly, with more confidence than I felt.

“Really?” said Mitchell. “So – again – prove it. I can see from Sophia’s face that she’s uncertain about it. She’s now curious about what you would do, how you would react. And if you don’t test it, and lay this issue to rest one way or another, it’ll prey on both your minds.”

At this point, I was feeling weirdly compelled to prove Mitchell wrong, and prove my devotion to Sophia … not just for Sophia’s sake but for my own. “I’m ready to prove it, if Sophia’s up for it,” I said stubbornly. “But it’s entirely her choice. I don’t want her doing anything she doesn’t want to do.”

“Sometimes,” said Mitchell, “we all have to do things we don’t want to do – in order to better ourselves, to help each other, to improve society … whatever it happens to be. If we let everyone who didn’t want to do something off the hook every time, we’d be in a sorry state. So, Sophia, your husband is ready to prove himself … and I think he realises this is something he needs to do. So go ahead – give him the opportunity to show you he’ll support you, no matter what … or else show you his failure to do so.”

“I won’t fail!” I growled.

Sophia stared at me, then at Mitchell. “But … I can’t!” she said in dismay. “I don’t want to!”

“I know that,” said Mitchell calmly. “Clem knows that. Personally, I think deep down you’re looking forward to it, but I’m prepared to concede there’s a possibility I’m wrong about that. Nonetheless, this is something you’re doing not for me, and not even just for Clem, but for yourself as well. For your marriage. Clem’s ready for you to do it, so just … let it out. You’ve done it plenty of times before, so you should be pretty used to the experience. It’s not difficult on a technical level. You just need to be willing to take this step for your marriage.”

Sophia gulped, and finished her drink. “I … there’s too many people here!” she said nervously. “I’d stink up the place – I’d get in trouble.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Come on, Sophia, we worked out a strategy for that a long time ago,” he said. “As soon as people start complaining about the smell, we’ll get up and leave, holding our noses and complaining loudly too. Nobody will suspect the pretty girl in the cute dress.”

Sophia whimpered unhappily. “You’ve got an answer for everything,” she grumbled. “But I need to pee. If I poop, I won’t be able to stop myself from peeing too, and that’ll make a horrible mess.”

“So go to the restroom,” said Mitchell patiently, “and empty your bladder first.”

Sophia sighed, and grimaced. Then she looked at me. “You really want me to do this?” she asked.

“Not really!” I replied candidly.

“And yet that wasn’t a hard ‘No’,” Mitchell quickly pointed out. “The fact is, you’re conflicted. You don’t want to see Sophia pooping in her panties, but you do want to take this opportunity to prove yourself to her. Am I right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I conceded.

Sophia gulped. “In that case I guess I’m doing this,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t poop while you’re in there!” Mitchell said sternly. “I don’t want you coming back and saying you’ve got nothing left to push out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” said Sophia, annoyed. Then she walked quickly toward the ladies’ toilet.

“This is kind of surreal,” I said, shuddering at the thought of my beautiful bride pooping in her panties. “She really used to do this with you? Like, in public?”

Mitchell nodded. “Well it was in private at first,” he said. “But we graduated to doing it in public, in riskier and riskier settings. And I swear to god, Clem – either she’s a fantastic actress, or she was genuinely excited by the thrill of it, and the feel of the poo in her panties. Clearly she doesn’t want to admit it to you, and maybe she’s even convinced herself she never enjoyed it … but I know what I saw.”

“I have to take her at her word,” I said, though I could not help wondering about it. “But even if she later admits she did enjoy it, I’m not going to judge her for that.”

“You’re a good guy,” Mitchell acknowledged. “I’m still not sure I believe that you won’t react badly to this, but you do seem sincere. Maybe you’ll take this in stride, maybe not. But I wish you luck.”

“Thank you,” I said, without enthusiasm.

A couple of minutes later, Sophia returned to our table, and sat down. “God,” she muttered. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this again, after all these years.”

“I expect it’ll come back to you,” said Mitchell impishly. “Like riding a bike.”

“I can remember how to poop, thanks!” said Sophia irritably. “I just need to figure out the best position…”

I could not help thinking that if Sophia did not currently have three drinks in her, she might not have agreed to this. But she seemed of sound mind, so I did not like to accuse her of having too much to drink.

“I think Clem needs to see your panties filling up,” said Mitchell. “To get the full experience. At the same time, we don’t want anyone else seeing. Why don’t you and I swap places? Then you’ll have your back to the bar, and only Clem will see what you’re doing.”

“All right,” said Sophia, and she swapped places with Mitchell, and sat facing me. I had to shift my chair a little to the right in order to see past the edge of the table, but as Sophia spread her knees apart and hiked her dress a few inches up her thighs, I was treated to a lovely view of the front of her white panties. She was sitting as far forward as she could without falling off the front of the seat, and I gulped as the reality of what she was about to do set in.

“Um,” I said nervously, “so will you give me a warning, or a countdown, or something?”

“Do you need one?” asked Sophia, sounding equally nervous. “I thought I would just try to relax … and go.”

“That’s fine too,” I conceded. “Just go when you’re ready.”

Sophia bit her lip, then she placed her hands on the seat either side of her hips, raised her bottom off the chair a little, and assumed a look of concentration. After a few seconds, as I watched her panties in mounting anxiety, I heard the little squeak of a fart escaping, and I instantly retched. Embarrassed, I clamped my hand to my mouth and looked up at Sophia’s face apologetically.

“Oh dear!” said Mitchell, chuckling. “You don’t have a very strong stomach, do you Clem?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be supportive!” I protested.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” he agreed, to my surprise. I had expected him to claim victory. “Perhaps it wasn’t fair of me to expect you to watch it happening. There’s no need to throw you in at the deep end, and there are other ways to support Sophia. Would you rather sit next to her, and hold her hand while she’s doing it?”

“Yes!” I said fervently, feeling very relieved. “That would be great.”

Mitchell gestured to the empty chair opposite me, and I got up and walked around behind Sophia to get to it. Sitting down, I took her right hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“It’s nice to hold your hand,” said Sophia, “but it means I can’t lift my bottom off the seat very well.”

“That’s okay,” said Mitchell. “You just need to lean back a bit, and raise your legs. Put your feet up on this.” He patted the seat of the chair I had just vacated.

“I think that’ll look a little weird,” said Sophia doubtfully.

“Hmm,” said Mitchell. “Nah, we’ll make it work.” He got up and moved himself over to the other chair, sitting down where I had been sitting a few moments ago. “Take off your shoes, and put your feet up on my lap. I can pretend to give you a foot massage or something. It’ll look less suspicious, I think, than if you’re resting your feet on the bare seat.”

“Then you’ll see everything,” Sophia grumbled.

“See, and record!” said Mitchell. “It occurs to me that at some point – clearly not just yet – Clem needs to see it happening. So I’ll take a video, and Clem can watch it when he’s a little more desensitised to this kind of thing.”

“I don’t want a video of me pooping my panties on your phone!” said Sophia indignantly.

Mitchell grinned. “Sophia, I’ve already got a ton of photos and videos of you pooping your panties, and out and about with your panties full of poop. One more won’t make much difference … and this one will serve a valuable purpose. I can always delete it afterwards if you want me to.”

“Ugh,” said Sophia, clearly not happy but unable to fault Mitchell’s reasoning. “Just don’t be obvious about it.” She kicked off both shoes, and put her feet up on his lap.

Mitchell pushed them back to his knees, causing Sophia’s own knees to bend upward. Then he spread his thighs, patting Sophia’s legs. I felt a surge of jealousy as I imagined the view he was getting; he was perfectly positioned to see up my wife’s dress, to see her panties smoothly encasing her virgin pussy. My stomach knotted, and I clenched my teeth.

Sophia slid her bottom forward a couple of inches. “All right, here it comes,” she said.

Mitchell grinned as he stared up her dress, his eyes fixed on her panties. With his right hand he performed a token massage of her left foot; in his left he held his phone, keeping it low and out of the sight of any curious eyes elsewhere in the pub.

“Ohhh, yes,” he said, after a few seconds. “That’s it. Very nice, Sophia. Keep it going.”

I heard a slight grunt of effort from Sophia, and I glanced at her face; she was concentrating, and appeared to be holding her breath. Then she exhaled sharply.

“Wonderful!” said Mitchell in delight. “What a nice bulge!”

I could smell it by now, and I grimaced in disgust. I wanted to cover my nose … but I did not want to seem unsupportive. Even my expression, it occurred to me, was probably rather judgmental, so I forced my face into a more neutral aspect.

“I think that’s enough,” said Sophia. “Enough for this exercise.”

“Is there more to come?” Mitchell inquired. “You might as well finish what you’ve started. Those panties look pretty stretchy; they’ll hold more.”

“I’m sure they will,” said Sophia, “but it’s not necessary. I’ve done enough to test Clem’s supportiveness; I don’t need to do more.”

“That’s right,”

“That’s a fair point,” conceded Mitchell, “but on the other hand, what’s the downside to finishing what you’ve started? As long as your panties hold it all – which I’m sure they will – a little more poop won’t do any harm. And you’ll feel better if you finish. I want you to enjoy this, Sophia – and I think you will, if you let yourself. Part of this exercise, from my point of view, is to prove to you that you used to get a kick out of pooping your panties and producing a big load to carry around in them. If you want to prove me wrong, fine, but finish your poop before you tell me you hate it.”

Sophia sighed. “Fine,” she said, and she began to strain again. I looked around nervously, but so far the smell had not apparently reached anyone else.

“Oh wow…” said Mitchell, his eyes wide. “I love how it’s just growing and growing! Keep it up – that’s a good girl…”

“Mmmph,” Sophia grunted quietly.

I was surprised she was still going, and was tempted to say something like ‘Goodness Darling, were you holding it in for a week?’ But that sort of pointed comment might upset her and was probably not the best way to support her. I tried to think of something more positive to say. Eventually I squeezed her hand and said softly, “I’m here for you, Sophia.”

She half-smiled as she strained for the last time. “That’s it,” she said at last.

“Fantastic!” Mitchell enthused. “What a sexy sight!”

A couple of men at a nearby table were sniffing the air and wrinkling their noses. One of them looked right at Sophia, but all he saw was Mitchell massaging her foot, and aside from looking briefly interested, he seemed to dismiss her as the source of the smell, and continued looking around.

As other people began to notice the smell, Mitchell got to his feet. “Time to move,” he said.

Sophia put her feet down, and I helped her up. “What about the bill?” I asked suddenly.

“Already paid it at the bar,” said Mitchell. As we made our way to the front door, he held his nose. “Jesus!” he grumbled loudly. “I hope that’s not the food!”

I made a show of holding my own nose, and Sophia affected an expression of disgust as we passed the bar. Soon we were outside, and putting a bit of distance between ourselves and the pub.

“All right,” I said. “Well this has certainly been an experience. Let’s get you back to the hotel, Sophia, so you can clean up. Mitchell, it’s been nice meeting you.”

“Oh, we’re not done!” said Mitchell. “This was only the first part of the experiment. You’ve yet to see Sophia’s wonderfully full panties, and the video of her filling them. But let’s not expose her in public; how about we find a quiet spot on the shore? Somewhere rocky, where we can tuck ourselves out of sight. Come on, let’s walk a bit. Unless, Sophia, you’d prefer to lift your dress where others can see…?”

“No!” said Sophia hastily. “A quiet spot out of sight would be ideal.”

“All right,” I said reluctantly. As we walked, I took her hand. “Are you okay?”

“Well this isn’t really how I imagined the first day of our honeymoon going,” said Sophia unhappily. “But I’ll survive. I just want to get this over with as quickly as possible.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

“Hmm,” said Mitchell, surveying the shoreline. “On second thoughts I’m not sure we’ll find the kind of place we’re looking for round here. Let’s drive for a bit – get out of town. Find somewhere a little more remote.”

“I don’t want to go too far afield,” I said nervously.

“I’m not talking about a day trip,” Mitchell assured me. “Just five minutes or so should do it. Let’s see – shall we stink up your car or mine?”

“Ugh,” I said, grimacing. “I … I guess I’d rather we took our car…”

“You want to risk getting poop on the seats of your rental?” Mitchell inquired. “You’re a brave man. At least mine’s being paid for by the company.”

“Your company’s paying for the car you’re renting on your vacation?” I asked in surprise.

“Well not exactly,” said Mitchell. “I’m paying the daily rate for the days I’m on vacation. But the company’s covered the insurance, which includes stains to the upholstery.”

“We didn’t get the extended insurance coverage,” I admitted.

“Then that settles it,” said Mitchell. “My car it is.”

We walked back to the hotel, and Mitchell led us to his car – a white Kia Rio, which seemed rather small and, as Mitchell explained, had rather limited leg room in the rear. “Probably best if Sophia sits in the front,” he said. “She can recline the seat and kind of lie down, with her butt hanging off the front of the seat. Then she’s not sitting on her poop.”

“I guess that’s probably sensible,” I conceded, and I reluctantly climbed into the back, while Sophia carefully manoeuvred herself into the position Mitchell had described.

Mitchell himself got into the driver’s seat, and then he drove us out of town and along the coast road for a few miles, with the windows open and the air-conditioning blasting. “Wow, this view!” I said, staring out of the window.

“Wish I could see it!” said Sophia grumpily. Then she planted her left elbow on the passenger door’s arm rest, propping herself up so she could see out. “Gorgeous,” she agreed.

“One of the locals told me they only get five sunny days per year round here,” said Mitchell. “And he said they’ve had four of them already.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” I said.

“Yeah,” Mitchell agreed. “But there IS a lot of rain in the forecast for the next few days, so enjoy the sun while it lasts.”

On he drove, and the further we got from the hotel, the more nervous I became. “How about just here?” I suggested.

“You can’t park in a passing place,” said Mitchell. “Don’t worry, we’ll stop soon.”

It was more than fifteen minutes before we arrived at a place that satisfied him. “This’ll do,” he said, pulling off the road and parking on the grass. “Looks like we can get down to the shore here.”

I got out, and helped Sophia out of her seat. As she stood up, looking rather morose, I gave her a hug. “Hang in there,” I said. “This’ll soon be over, and we can get on with our honeymoon.”

“Sorry about the smell,” she said glumly.

“It’s fine,” I lied. “It’s not that bad, and I’m getting used to it. I feel awful for you, though, having to feel it as well as smell it.”

She shrugged. “I’m used to it,” she said. “Or I was. This has been an unpleasant reminder of the ‘adventures’ Mitchell used to put me through.”

“You enjoyed them!” Mitchell insisted. “I swear I’m not making that up. And I’ll make you admit it before this one is over.”

“No you won’t,” Sophia replied.

Mitchell smirked, then he turned and started down a short path between gorse bushes. Sophia followed him, and I brought up the rear, looking around to make sure we were not being witnessed. I immediately realised this was rather pointless, however, since anyone seeing Mitchell’s car would surely conclude that its occupants had gone down to the shore.

Beyond the bushes was a stretch of salt-hardy plants with pink flowers, and then a jumble of boulders, some of them quite large, and exposed bedrock which was fissured and broken and full of stagnant pools of water. Lower down, in front of us, the rocks were covered in brown seaweed, but Mitchell stopped and turned to face us. “This is perfect,” he said. “We can’t see the road from here, and thus nobody on the road can see us.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s get this over with, then. I’m ready.”

“Okay!” said Mitchell. “Sophia, why don’t you go and lean up against that boulder there … and hike up your dress at the back. Show off that sexy bulge in your panties.”

Sophia stepped over to the boulder Mitchell had indicated, and leaned against it, adopting a pose so photogenic and professional-looking that it was starkly clear to me that she was no stranger to posing for this man. As she leaned into the rock, sticking her bottom out, she began lifting the hem of her dress … and I swallowed nervously, hoping I would not be too disgusted by what I was about to see.

They say that anticipation is better than realisation, and that was certainly true in this case. As the big round bulge in Sophia’s panties peeped into view and then became more and more exposed, I found myself getting nauseous at the thought of all the poop that was obviously inside, pressing against my bride’s intimate parts.

“Oh God,” I muttered, and pressed my right hand over my mouth. Yet for some reason I couldn’t look away; the sight, though borderline horrifying, was fascinating in a weird way – partly because the bulge was far bigger than I had been expecting. “So much poop…” I whispered, my voice muffled to the point of incoherence.

The bulge, once it became fully exposed, was like nothing I had ever seen before. Sophia’s pretty white panties, pristine this morning and newly plucked from a cardboard box from Amazon just three days ago, were grotesquely stretched around a vast misshapen ball about the size of a smallish cantaloupe. Thanks to the stretched material becoming slightly see-through, I could faintly see the dark brown colour of the poop within, as well as some of its lumpy contours.

Then Sophia shifted her position, raising her right foot up on to a small rock at the foot of the boulder. This caused a gap to open between the leg-seam of her panties and the curve of her thigh at the point where it met her right buttock. At the unobstructed sight of the dark mass of brown poop nestling inside, I shut my eyes and turned away, clenching my stomach muscles in an attempt to keep myself from throwing up.

Mitchell chuckled. “My goodness, Clem, aren’t you squeamish? This is what you call being supportive? Haha – you’ll have to do better than this!”

“I … I’m fine,” I said, bending down and putting my hands on my knees. “I’ll be all right – I just need a minute.”

“Mitchell, can we stop this please?” said Sophia plaintively. “I really don’t need Clem to be okay with me panty-pooping, because it’s not something I’ll ever do in the future.”

“Oh we can’t stop now,” said Mitchell firmly. “That would be disastrous. Clem now has a mental image of you hiking up your dress to reveal your poop-filled panties, and that’s not something he’ll ever forget. Nor will he forget the sense of disgust that accompanied that sight. It’ll forever taint the way he sees you, the way he looks at you, the way he thinks about you…”

“Oh no!” exclaimed Sophia in alarm.

“UNLESS,” Mitchell went on, “he can get used to the sight of poop in your panties, and so desensitised to it that it doesn’t bother him anymore. For that to happen, we need to continue this experiment, and take lots of photos, too.”

“Ugh!” Sophia groaned. “Why photos?”

“Because for the desensitisation process to be effective,” Mitchell explained patiently, “Clem will have to relive this experience every day for the next couple of weeks, and then at less and less frequent intervals thereafter. And unless you want to poop in your panties every time, that means Clem recording this event for posterity, and refreshing his memory by looking at the photos.”

“Great,” I muttered bitterly. Then I realised this was the opposite of supportive. “I mean sure – whatever it takes.”

“That’s the spirit, Clem,” said Mitchell encouragingly.

“All right,” Sophia conceded reluctantly. “As long as they’re on Clem’s phone and not yours.”

“Oh, I’ll be taking some too,” said Mitchell cheerfully. “Just in case Clem is tempted to ‘accidentally’ delete the photos. I’m sure it’ll take a few days for the value of this exercise to become clear to him.”

My heart sank. Far from being a one-time event, this disgusting event was apparently going to torment me for days and weeks to come. But perhaps that was the point: it had to go on and on until it was no longer a torment. Mitchell might be a jerk, but he was probably right: that image of Sophia’s huge poop filling the back of her pretty white panties would likely haunt me for years to come if I did not do something to lessen its impact.

“You feeling all right, Clem?” Mitchell asked. “You ready to see a little more?”

“What more is there to see?” I grumbled, as I stared down at a piece of layered, flaky rock. “I’ve already seen the whole thing.”

“Come on, Clem,” said Mitchell. “Man up. If Sophia can endure her poop smushing against her skin, you can put up with seeing it from a distance.”

“I guess so,” I said with a sigh. Steeling myself, I turned and looked at Sophia. She had dropped her dress, thankfully, and I smiled sheepishly at her. She smiled back.

“All right,” said Mitchell. “Let’s get this photo shoot underway. Sophia, you know the drill – give us some sexy poses. Clem, she’s your model and you’re her photographer. As she poses, give her encouragement; tell her how sexy she is. That’s what a supportive husband would do.”

I grimaced, then quickly forced my face into a smile. “Okay Sophia,” I said, mustering as much positive energy as I could. “Pose for me.” I raised my phone and started the camera app.

Glancing uncomfortably at Mitchell, who also had his phone at the ready, Sophia turned her back on us, then she pulled up the back of her dress, stuck her bottom out, and slowly teased the hem of the dress up and over the bulge in her panties.

I clenched my teeth and my stomach, willing myself not to retch … and with shaking hands I took a photo. “Well done Darling,” I said in a slightly strained voice. But when I looked at my phone and checked the photo I had just taken, I saw that it was awful; Sophia was not centred, and the image was out of focus. As she lifted her dress even higher, I took another photo, this time looking at my phone instead of at my wife, to make sure I was doing it properly. This one turned out much better … and I found it was easier on my stomach to see Sophia’s poop-filled panties on my phone rather than directly.

“Good, keep it going,” I said, feigning enthusiasm.

Sophia adopted another pose, this time with her feet well apart, and I was reminded unpleasantly that she was well-practised at posing for photos with her panties full of poop. How I wished she had never gone out with Mitchell! But then again, if she had not, she might never have met and married me.

I continued to take photo after photo, resolutely staring at my phone as Sophia’s poses became more and more lewd. Finally, as she squatted with her back against the rock and her knees wide apart, her bulging panties hanging down obscenely, the gusset stretched and narrowed, I said, “Um, that’s a little, uh, indecent, maybe?”

Sophia quickly closed her knees in embarrassment.

“Clem!” Mitchell scolded me. “What the hell? How was that supportive? Sophia looked gorgeous and sexy, she opened herself up, made herself vulnerable for your camera … and you just insulted her!”

“I’m so sorry!” I said in dismay. “I’m sorry Sophia! That wasn’t my intent. I just … there’s surely a limit on how sexy we want these poses to get?”

“Why should there be?” Mitchell demanded. “If Sophia’s willing to adopt a particular pose, your job is to photograph it, not criticise her choice. It’s not like you’re shooting for a magazine with strict content rules. You’re husband and wife, for crying out loud. Sophia can be as sexy as she likes!”

“Don’t feel bad, Clem,” Sophia assured me. “I was just automatically repeating the kinds of poses I used to do for Mitchell. I should have realised that some of them might be a bit much for you.”

Mitchell laughed. “They’re ALL ‘a bit much’ for Clem, Honey,” he said. “He’s trying hard not to show it, but he’s been well out of his comfort zone this whole time.”

“Yeah,” I acknowledged, “and you don’t need to apologise for anything, Sophia. You did nothing wrong; we didn’t specify any particular limits on posing before we started. But perhaps we should do that now. There’s only so much of you I want Mitchell seeing.”

Sophia nodded in agreement, but Mitchell just laughed. “Dude, I’ve already seen it all,” he said, with an irritating air of smugness. “Not to mention, touched it all. We did everything except fuck. Your wife has no secrets from me, hehe! In fact, Sophia honey, why don’t you slip out of that dress?”

“What?” said Sophia and I at the same time. She looked as alarmed as I felt.

“Think about it,” said Mitchell. “What’s the end goal here? To get Clem comfortable with your sordid past, right? And also, for me, to get you to acknowledge that all this was fun for you too. And how do we achieve both of those goals? By establishing a connection between the poop and the eroticism. By demonstrating that you can be sexy and gross at the same time. Even that the grossness can amplify the sexiness. To achieve that, Sophia, it’s not sufficient simply to show off your messy panties. That would work for me, but it’s obviously not going to work for Clem. He needs to see something that does arouse him. And the sight of you taking off your dress might just fit the bill, don’t you think? I mean … I assume he does find you attractive…”

“Of course I do!” I retorted in annoyance. “And yes, I find the sight of Sophia undressing very … stimulating. But my enjoyment of that exciting event would be dampened considerably by the fact that her ex-boyfriend is watching it too!”

“So you can’t enjoy something if someone else is enjoying it?” Mitchell inquired. “Man, you’ve got a jealous streak a mile wide, Clem! Are you really that insecure?”

“Insec… gah!” I spluttered. With an effort I got my temper under control. “I’m not insecure! I just happen to have certain protective instincts where my wife is concerned.”

“Okay, that’s natural,” Mitchell conceded. “But it’s incredibly misguided, not to mention old-fashioned. Sophia doesn’t need your protection – at least not from me. I’m not attacking her. I’m not threatening her. All of this is above board and consensual. I’m not forcing Sophia to do anything, and she can surely make her own decisions on what directions or suggestions she complied with, right? She doesn’t need you to decide such things for her. Besides, she just spread her legs and showed us both a very intimate view of her panties; what else is she covering that you’re so afraid I’ll see? Again.”

There was really only one obvious answer, and even I had to admit it sounded pretty silly as I voiced it: “Her … bra…?”

Mitchell stared at me. “That’s worse than seeing her poop-filled panties?”

“I guess not,” I muttered.

“Good, I’m glad you’re seeing reason,” said Mitchell. “Sophia, at this point it’s important that you awaken Clem’s slumbering horniness, so let’s see you take off that dress in a sexy manner. Clem, try not to get all possessive; just enjoy the show, and imagine I’m not here, if you need to.”

Sophia hesitated, then she stood up, reached behind her back, and unzipped her dress. Pulling it off first one shoulder, then the other, she swayed her hips as if dancing to music I could not hear. She smiled at me, and let her dress gradually slip down her arms, as the front descended to expose the cups of her white bra.

It was arousing – I could not deny it – but I found it hard to shake my anxiety about the fact that Mitchell was standing next to me and eagerly taking photos as Sophia disrobed. “Can you not take more pictures, Mitchell?” I demanded, aggrieved.

“Chill, Clem!” said Mitchell, with an air of mild exasperation. “I’ve taken far more naked photos of Sophia than this, and literally stood next to you just now as we both took photos of her panties. Your sense of righteous indignation is truly something else, dude. You need to learn to relax a little! Go with the flow. Stop trying to control every little thing.”

Sophia was now stepping out of her dress, and as she lifted each leg, I caught glimpses of the poop inside her bulging panties. “Ugh,” I muttered, my burgeoning erection rapidly shrivelling back into flaccid dormancy.

“Gorgeous!” said Mitchell happily. “What a vision you are, Sophia! I swear, you’ve actually gotten hotter in the past four years.”

“Thank you,” said Sophia uncomfortably. She draped her dress over a nearby rock.

“Let’s see a nice pose,” said Mitchell. And as my darling wife posed, bending over with her hands on her knees and arching her back, I listlessly took a photo, trying to smile encouragingly. But it was Mitchell who was expressing the most enthusiastic praise. “Fantastic!” he said. “You could seriously be a model, Sophia. How’s that pecker of yours, Clem? Any life in the old dog? Sophia’s looking pretty sexy right now, don’t you think?”

“She is,” I agreed. “It’s just hard for me to get past the … you know. For a minute I … but then … you know … it’s just such an off-putting sight.”

“I get where you’re coming from, Clem,” said Mitchell. “I really do. We all have our weird hang-ups…”

“I don’t think it’s all that weird,” I remarked.

“Mine’s red hair,” Mitchell continued. “Absolute turn-off. I used to be seriously into this porn actress called Brenda Boobsley – so hot, she was, with gigantic … anyway for this one film I was horrified to see she’d dyed her hair red. I switched it off immediately, but it was too late – the image was burned into my brain, and from then on I just couldn’t enjoy her films again.”

This was useful information, I thought to myself. If, heaven forbid, Mitchell ever came into our lives again, perhaps Sophia could temporarily dye her hair red in order to get rid of him. I didn’t mind red hair at all; in fact I quite liked it. I would happily put up with it for a few months, if it meant banishing Mitchell for good.

“I think Clem needs a little extra encouragement,” said Mitchell. “Sophia, lose the bra. If the sight of your luscious boobs doesn’t overcome Clem’s disgust, I’ll be astonished.”

“Oh no no!” I said, shocked. “You’re not her boyfriend anymore, Mitchell, and you don’t get to see Sophia naked!”

“She won’t be naked, she’ll just be topless,” he corrected me patiently. “I know I’m not her boyfriend at the moment, but you’ve got to understand that her body is very familiar to me. Ever since our second date, when I got her tipsy and tricked her into taking off all her clothes in a rigged game of strip poker.”

“You scoundrel!” I exclaimed. “Sophia, he tricked you!”

Mitchell chuckled. “She knows, dude,” he said. “I fessed up afterwards. The point is, it’s not a big deal if I see her naked. But it IS a big deal for you, because we’ve got to get past this mental block of yours. Seeing her with red hair forever tainted my perception of Brenda Boobsley; if you’re not careful, the sight of Sophia with poop-filled panties will forever ruin your perception of her. And she’s your wife! Wouldn’t that be disastrous? It would be terrible if you found you could never get it up in bed with her, because you couldn’t get rid of the mental image of her bulging panties.”

“Oh God!” I said, aghast. It seemed all too plausible a notion. I looked at Sophia, who was also looking quite shocked and anxious. “Maybe,” I said reluctantly, in a slightly shaky voice, “maybe Mitchell has a point…”

Sophia bit her lip, nodded, and reached behind her bank again, this time to unclasp her bra. As the white cups fell away, exposing her beautiful, heavy breasts with their pert nipples, I could not help but sigh with pleasure. My loins stirred; my manhood began to resurrect.

“Wow, yeah!” said Mitchell eagerly, rubbing his crotch. “Those are the puppies I’ve been missing! Holy mammaries, those are some marvellous motherly milkers. Well done, Sophia! I think they’ve even improved since we were last together.”

Sophia’s arms twitched, her shoulders hunching slightly and her hands impulsively rising towards her breasts as she blushed deeply at Mitchell’s lewd compliments. But she left them uncovered, and looked at me with a worried expression.

Fortunately I was able to give her good news. “I’m happy to report that I am very aroused by your beautiful breasts, my darling,” I said.

Sophia looked relieved.

“That’s a good start,” said Mitchell, “but don’t celebrate too soon. Let’s see what happens when Clem can see your boobs and your poop at the same time.”

Sophia pulled a face. “Ugh, you’re not going to make me rub poop all over my breasts again, are you?”

Ewwwwww! Just the thought of this made me want to throw up.

“No, not this time,” said Mitchell with a chuckle. Just squat with your back against the rock and your legs spread wide apart.”

Sophia adopted this pose, and I stared resolutely at her breasts, trying to ignore the sagging panties below, with their smelly contents lurking within. It was not easy.

“So sexy!” said Mitchell gleefully. “What do you think, Clem?”

“Uh-huh,” I replied noncommittally.

He looked at me. “Photos, dude!” he urged.

“Oh, right,” I said, and I raised my phone. Holding it in front of me, I was able to use it to obscure my view of Sophia’s panties, while leaving her breasts visible. This suited me just fine. My phone was getting the full view, but I was not looking at it.

“That was a lousy photo,” Mitchell remarked. “You need to look at your phone before you shoot … ah, I see what you’re doing. But that’s cheating, man – you can’t get used to something you’re not exposing yourself to.”

I sighed. “Look, Mitchell, I think we’re done here. Sophia and I have followed all your directions, I’ve seen her messy panties, she’s shown way more of her body to you than I’m comfortable with … and if you don’t mind, I think it’s time for us to part ways.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” said Mitchell dismissively. “Not just yet. It would be a terrible idea, and I’m not going to just sit back and let your marriage fail. I explained all this already, but apparently it hasn’t yet sunk in. This process isn’t something you can start and then abandon halfway through. It’s like repairing a dishwasher. You can’t take the thing apart and then stop and say ‘That’s good enough.’ It’s still in bits! And right now, so are you. If the two of you try to have your wedding night, it’ll go horribly because you won’t be able to get the image of Sophia’s poop-filled panties out of your head. It’s not enough for you just to see Sophia like this … you’ve got to get used to it.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible!” I said in dismay. “And I don’t want to get used to it! I’d rather just forget it!”

“And how are you going to do that?” Mitchell inquired. “A blow to the head? Face it, Clem: for better or worse, this is one of the most memorable experiences of your life. You’re not going to forget it, ever. Best come to terms with that, as soon as possible.”

“Oh God!” I groaned. The asshole was probably right. I stared at Sophia’s panties, stretched tightly over her pussy and sagging down well below her bottom, bulging obscenely with the massive mound of her poop. “So what do I do next?”

“Spend the afternoon in the presence of Sophia’s poopy panties,” said Mitchell, “and look at them as often as you can, in as many different contexts. Take photos. Lots of photos. Have Sophia pose in ways that show off her poop. Praise her for how sexy she looks.”

“You want me to spend the whole afternoon like this?” said Sophia in dismay. “Mitchell, I want to clean up!”

“And you will,” he assured her. “But if you want Clem to come out of this untraumatised, you need to put up with the poop for a few more hours. Trust me, you’ll come out of this experience a stronger couple, with your marriage off to a healthy start, with no secrets, no lingering negativity, no resentment, no jealousy … just a happy and confident pair of newlyweds embarking on a long and happy married life.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Sophia, rather mournfully. “Fine, I’ll stay like this for a while.”

“Let’s get back to the car,” said Mitchell. “We’ll explore the town, do a little shopping…”

“I can’t go into shops like this, Mitchell!” Sophia objected.

“You can put your dress back on,” said Mitchell graciously.

“That’s not what I mean!” said Sophia, picking up her bra. “I mean with my panties full of poop!”

“Leave the bra off,” Mitchell instructed her. “You don’t need it, and you’re sexier without it. It’s important you be as sexy as possible, for Clem’s benefit.”

Sophia rolled her eyes, and picked up her dress. “I still can’t go into shops with poop in my panties.”

“You can if we’re careful,” said Mitchell. “You’ve done it before.”

“Just don’t get us arrested, Mitchell!” I said uneasily.

“Nobody’s getting arrested,” he replied confidently. “Now, Sophia, lead the way back to the car, and keep your dress lifted up, so Clem has a nice view of your panties.”

With great reluctance I watched Sophia’s bulging panties wobbling and bouncing heavily as she clambered over boulders and up the rocky slope toward the little path back to the road. Sometimes she had to use a hand to steady herself, but she managed at all times to keep the back of her dress hiked up, so my view of The Bulge was never obscured. I half-heartedly took a couple of photos; Mitchell, following close behind me and peering around me, took many more.

“No no, not this time,” he said, as Sophia prepared to get into the passenger seat. “Lie on the back seat, on your back, with your legs spread. That way Clem can keep glancing back and seeing your poopy panties.”

Sophia ground her teeth. “Clem can,” she said. “You can’t! You need to focus on the road.”

“And so I shall,” he promised.

As he drove us back, I made myself look over my shoulder at Sophia, lying provocatively along the back seat with her knees wide apart. Ordinarily it would have been an incredibly erotic sight … but the sight of her huge pile of poop, which the gusset of her panties came nowhere close to fully concealing, rather ruined it for me. It was all I could do to keep from retching. I was not sure how I was ever going to ‘get used’ to this sight.

The town of Port Cruachan (population 1700) was hardly a hub of retail activity, but its high street boasted no fewer than three clothes shops, if you counted Argyll Footwear among them. Of the other two, one looked like it might cater to young women, and it was to this that Mitchell led us, once I had helped Sophia out of his car. This being a Sunday, many shops were closed, but fortunately The Bonnie Lass was not one of them.

“You’re being very coy, Sophia,” Mitchell chided her gently. “Don’t forget to keep giving us … uh, giving Clem frequent flashes of your panties.”

“I don’t mind flashing my husband,” Sophia muttered nervously. “I don’t particularly want to flash the locals!”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Mitchell acknowledged sympathetically. “But it’s all in a good cause. It’s important that Clem understands how comfortable you can be with your panties full of poop – otherwise how can he get comfortable with it himself? Seeing you displaying your poop in a public place with strangers looking on … it will arouse in him one of two reactions: either he’ll be so disgusted with you that he’ll want to distance himself from you, or he’ll feel protective of you and prepared to defend you against any harassment. Ideally it’ll be the latter … and if he’s put in a position where he has those feelings, they’ll reinforce his positive opinion of your relationship with your poop.”

“Do I want that, though?” asked Sophia, her brow furrowed.

“Of course!” said Mitchell. “Why wouldn’t you? This is a dangerous time, Sophia. Right now Clem is filled with disgust at the sight and thought of you with poop in your panties, and if you’re not careful, he’ll carry that disgust throughout your married life. Whenever he sees you in your panties, he’ll shudder at the memory of seeing them bulging with poop. Whenever you go to the toilet, he’ll cringe at the idea that you might secretly be sitting down with your panties pulled up, straining as you fill them with stinky brown turds. Whenever you have sex, the images of your full panties sagging under the weight of your colossal shit-ball will intrude into his mind and kill his arousal. That’s why it’s so important to use this afternoon to not only numb that disgust, but get rid of it entirely. The goal here is to get Clem smiling warmly at you as you show him your full panties, to be proud of you when you show them off in public, to encourage you if – however unlikely it might be – you decide you want to do it again tomorrow.”

“That won’t happen!” said Sophia fervently, but she was looking thoroughly unnerved by Mitchell’s description of how today’s events could shape our future together. As indeed I was myself.

“I don’t want Sophia to get herself into any trouble…” I said uneasily.

“I won’t let that happen,” Mitchell assured me. “If things go badly and we attract the wrong kind of attention, we’ll pass it off as heatstroke coupled with food poisoning. But it shouldn’t come to that. People over here tend to raise their eyebrows and then move on; they’re less comfortable wi to approaching and criticising strangers than you or I might be used to. Certainly you’ll find far fewer religious zealots willing to call the cops to complain about public indecency.”

Sophia swallowed, and looked around nervously. “I … I don’t know, Mitchell,” she said. “I’m not a reckless, foolish teen anymore. I don’t think I can bring myself to just pull up my dress and show off my poop with strangers watching.”

“There’s no need to be that obvious about it,” said Mitchell. “Surely you haven’t forgotten all the little tricks you used to employ?”

Sophia glanced downward. “These shoes don’t have laces,” she said.

“True,” Mitchell agreed, “but I’m sure a little stone has probably found its way into one of those shoes.”

I was momentarily confused, but Sophia nodded. Walking away from us towards the front door of The Bonny Lass, she suddenly paused, then bent over and stuck a couple of fingers into the side of her right shoe, next to her heel, in order to retrieve an imaginary stone.

My eyes widened as her dress rode up and the broad lower curve of her heavily-loaded white panties peeped into view. I looked around anxiously, but there were only two people near enough to see what Sophia was doing, and they were engaged in conversation and not looking her way. As Sophia continued to fish around for the nonexistent stone, her hem rose still higher, exposing more of her bulging panties. Sweat broke out on my forehead as I glanced wildly around, hoping nobody would look this way and see her.

“Relax, Clem!” said Mitchell calmly. “Don’t stress out so much. If anything, you’re likely to draw more attention. Just take a deep breath, and enjoy the view.”

But the view, mercifully, had just become a lot less stressful, as Sophia straightened up and continued walking. She reached the front door of the shop, took a deep breath, and entered. Mitchell and I followed.

The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman with grey hair and a rather masculine build, paid us no heed as we browsed. I could soon smell Sophia’s poop, and knew that it was only a matter of time before Mrs Doubtfire could too.

“Let’s make this quick,” I muttered to Sophia.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But you know what Mitchell will say if we leave too soon. Let me just flash my panties for you a couple of times, in different parts of the store, and you can take photos, and then we can leave and say we completed our mission.”

“Right,” I said, nodding. Then I grimaced. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Ugh, I know, right?” said Sophia unhappily. “It’s so gross! I hate having poop in my panties, and showing it in public is unbelievably humiliating. Showing it to you is bad enough! I … I’m worried about what you think or me now…”

“I think the world of you,” I assured her. “Nothing will change that. But I can’t say I’m not a little weirded out, and grossed out. I know it’s not your fault, and I don’t blame you or anything … but Mitchell’s right about one thing: the image of your panties full of poop is kinda burned into my retinas.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Sophia glumly. “I guess we should continue with Mitchell’s plan, then, so that this doesn’t screw up our marriage.”

“I guess so,” I agreed reluctantly. “I’m sorry I’m not more cool with this, Darling. I’m sure you’re having a worse time than me, though. I’ll try – I’ll really try – to become less … grossed out.”

She nodded. “Thanks Clem,” she said. “I know you’re trying. I’m sure it’s not easy.”

I pulled out my phone as she moved away, looking at stands of clothing. She pulled a dress off a rack, but at the same time ‘accidentally’ dislodged another dress, which fell on the floor. Bending over to pick it up, she once again exposed her bulging panties. I clenched my stomach, and grimly took as steady a photo as I could. Then she straightened up, and I resumed breathing.

Sophia then wandered deeper into the store, and I followed her at a distance. Suppressing a shudder, I took a photo as she raised her left foot up on to a display stand, the top of which was level with her hips. Since she was angled slightly toward me at the time, I had an uncomfortably explicit view of the big mound of poop cradled in the back of her panties, as well as of the panties themselves. She made quite a performance of brushing dust off her left shoe, giving me plenty of time to take a couple more photos. Now I could tell Mitchell I had taken four. Where was he, anyway…?

I spotted him at the checkout. He appeared to be buying something. Puzzled, I watched and waited while he finished his purchase and then came over to me, bag in hand, grinning all over his irritating face.

“What did you buy?” I inquired suspiciously.

“Something that will benefit our little project,” said Mitchell, “and hopefully help it progress a little faster.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“An outfit for Sophia!” he said, beaming.

Sophia approached us. “What kind of outfit?” she asked warily.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a transparent negligée,” he assured her. “Just a top and skirt. The lady said you can use the changing room to change into them, even though I’ve already bought them, and wear them when you leave.”

Sophia took the bag from Mitchell, and peered into it. “What’s wrong with my dress?”

“It’s a little safe,” said Mitchell. “Go on – put on the top and skirt! Trust me.”

As Sophia took the bag into the nearby changing room, Mitchell chuckled quietly. “Man, she really is something, isn’t she Clem? I didn’t realise until today just how much I’ve missed her.”

“Yes, she’s quite something,” I agreed, rather tersely.

“She’s in better shape now than she was four years ago,” Mitchell went on. “She’s slimmed down a bit, without losing boob volume. That’s quite a feat, and I’m sure a lot of women would kill to know her secret.”

“She cycles,” I replied. “Like, a lot. Fifteen miles a day, usually. But she’s pretty much looked like this as long as I’ve known her.”

“That explains the slimming,” said Mitchell, “but not the boobs. Do you rub some kind of magic lotion into those puppies every night?”

“Uh, no,” I said uncomfortably. “I don’t suppose she does either, though I guess it’s possible.”

Mitchell grinned. “You’re missing out, Clem!” he said. “I used to rub baby oil into those beauties, when I was oiling her up for photo shoots.” He sighed. “It was such fun.”

I ground my teeth. “I’m sure.”

“I used to love rubbing oil into her pussy, too,” Mitchell added, with a dirty chuckle. “Oh, that felt so good! For her, too. I loved hearing her moans of pleasure as I slathered that oil over her labia and clitoris…”

“Could we talk about something else?” I snapped.

Mitchell cackled. “Gotcha!” he said. “I wondered how much it would take to get a rise out of you. Not much, it seems!”

I folded my arms grumpily, and said nothing.

Not long afterward, Sophia emerged from the changing room, looking very sexy, and very anxious. “This is too short, Mitchell!” she hissed.

“What, the skirt or the top?” he inquired innocently.

“The skirt of course!” she replied irritably. “The top’s fine. A little low-cut, but fine.”

It was more than a little low-cut, though, I could not help noticing. The fabric was quite thin and clingy, and moulded itself to Sophia’s breasts. The effect was very sexy – in fact rather more sexy than I wanted my wife to look in public.

But I could not deny that the skirt was even more of a problem. It was tartan (I later learned that it was the official tartan of the MacKenzie clan), and covered hardly any of Sophia’s thighs at the front. By any standards, it was a miniskirt – perhaps even a microskirt. I dreaded to think what it looked like from the back.

“Ooh, that looks great on you!” said Mitchell enthusiastically. “Turn around.”

Sophia hesitated, glancing around nervously … and then she turned to gave away from me and Mitchell. I gasped. Her poop-filled, bulging panties were not just peeping out from below the hem; they were very prominently exposed. Assuming her poop-ball were indeed an approximate sphere, its panty-shrouded southern hemisphere was completely out in the open.

“Oh my God!” I said, appalled. “Mitchell, she can’t go out like that!”

“Yes she can,” he told me firmly. “She’s done it before … haven’t you, Honey? On more than one occasion.”

“That was a long time ago!” said Sophia, whirling around to face us. “And I was stupid for doing so! We could both have been arrested!”

“But we weren’t,” Mitchell said calmly, “because I was there to look after you and keep you safe. Which I did. I kept you out of trouble then, Sophia, and I’ll do so again today.”

“But everyone will see her poopy panties!” I protested.

“Not everyone,” said Mitchell, rather condescendingly. “Just a few people, maybe, and I’ll take responsibility for controlling the situation so there are no serious consequences.”

“That’s what you told me right before my mom caught me!” Sophia fired back.

“How was I to know she would come back home in the middle of the day?” Mitchell retorted. “Anyway that’s in the past. The point is…”

“What’s that dreadful smell?” demanded the shopkeeper, in her delightful, almost melodious Scottish accent. She had come around the corner of a tall rack of coats, and was staring suspiciously at Sophia while holding her nose.

“Oh I’m sorry,” said Mitchell quickly. “The young lady had a bit of an accident – something she ate at lunch, food-poisoning probably.”

“Please leave my shop at once!” said the woman.

“Of course, of course,” I said hastily. “Come on guys, let’s get out of here.”

“My bag, my dress!” exclaimed Sophia, turning toward the changing room.

“Ugh!” exclaimed the shopkeeper, staring at Sophia’s bulging panties. “Please get out!”

“Go, Sophia!” I urged her. “I’ll grab your stuff.”

Mitchell shepherded Sophia toward the door, and I made a dash for the changing room. Inside I found Sophia’s purse, along with her dress and the plastic bag that her new outfit had been in. I picked up all three, stuffing the dress in the bag as I hurried toward the front door. “I’m so sorry,” I said to the shopkeeper, who simply glared at me as I passed.

I caught up with Mitchell and Sophia a few yards down the street. Sophia was looking rather panicked, as her skimpy outfit was already attracting stares, even from the front. Nobody was approaching or saying anything, however. I kept myself very close to Sophia, and a little behind her, attempting to shield her panties from as many curious eyes as possible.

“You won’t get any good photos like that, Clem,” said Mitchell. “Drop back a few yards. I’ll have Sophia stop and pose occasionally, but you can take some candid shots at any time.”

“But people will see Sophia’s panties!” I objected.

“That’s fine,” said Mitchell firmly. “Sophia’s quite used to strangers seeing her panties … both with and without poop.”

“I don’t think she enjoys it though!” I retorted.

“I don’t!” Sophia confirmed.

“I think on some level you do,” Mitchell said, “but I’ll not argue that point now. Eyes on the prize, both of you! There’s more at stake here than Sophia’s momentary discomfort and embarrassment. Back up, Clem, and take some photos. Sophia, just hold your head high and try to think of some nice sexy poses for your photographer to capture. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Here, hold my hand for a bit, for reassurance.”

I felt very uncomfortable and unhappy as I snapped photo after photo with my phone, trailing behind Mitchell and Sophia as they walked hand in hand down the street. Anyone observing the two of them would think they were a couple! No doubt Sophia would rather not hold his hand like that, but she was probably so anxious about this situation that she was desperate for reassurance, and anybody’s hand would provide some measure of comfort – even Mitchell’s.

Then, perhaps prompted by Mitchell, she stopped and bend over to retrieve another stone from her shoe. Her little skirt rode up over her bottom, exposing her poop-bulge in its entirety. I took a photo, then looked around anxiously to see if anyone was watching. They were. Lots of people were.

I hurried over to Sophia as she straightened up. “We’re attracting way too much attention!” I said urgently. “We have to get off the street!”

“Yes please!” said Sophia.

“We’re not all that far from the hotel,” said Mitchell. “Let’s head straight there. I can go back later for my car.”

“Hallelujah,” I muttered.

“No reason for you to stop taking photos though,” Clem,” said Mitchell with a smile. “Go on, back up a bit. We’ll soon be out of the public eye, don’t you worry … but in the meantime you should take as many photos as you can.”

I ground my teeth and stood still as Mitchell took Sophia’s hand and resumed walking down the street ahead of me. After a few seconds I took another photo, and followed them. It occurred to me that I was, perhaps, gradually becoming used to the sight of Sophia’s panties bulging with poop as they hung below the hem of her little tartan skirt, but that did not mean I was getting to like it. Far from it. I still thought it was disgusting and smelly and awful, and I was doubtful that that would ever change.

A couple of young men across the street laughed at Sophia, and one of them shouted something unintelligibly Scottish at her, and for a moment I was in a state of near-panic, afraid I was going to have to defend her physically … but the men did not come any closer, and as we left them behind, I allowed myself to sigh with relief.

Outside the hotel, Mitchell stopped and turned towards me as I caught up. “Let’s do one more photo before we go inside,” he said. “Can you do a high kick, Sophia? You used to be pretty flexible…”

“Sure, I guess so,” said Sophia with a shrug.

“Okay, face Clem and do a high kick. Clem, try to capture the moment when Sophia’s foot is at its highest.”

“I can do a burst,” I replied.

Mitchell stood back, while Sophia faced me and prepared to do a high kick. I gave her a nod when I was ready, then I pressed and held the button as she kicked her right leg up, raising her foot higher than her head. For a moment her bulging panties were on obscene display, her poop itself visible past the narrow stretched-out gusset. Then she brought her foot down again, and I reviewed the photos.

Unfortunately, all were blurry, even the one where Sophia’s foot had reached its high point.

“You get any good ones?” Mitchell asked.

“No,” I had to admit. “All blurry.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Well I guess that’s not surprising; Sophia was in constant motion. Sophia, could you stand still while holding your leg up high?”

“I guess so,” said Sophia. “I’ll have to hold my leg up with one hand though.”

And she tried. But apparently the three drinks she had imbibed at lunchtime were still in her system, and potent enough to affect her coordination. She tried to balance on one foot while holding her right leg up, but could not keep still. I tried to wait for her to stop wobbling, but she soon lost patience.

“I can’t hold this position forever, Clem!” she said.

“Why don’t I help?” Mitchell suggested. “I can hold you steady.” He moved behind her, and put his arms around her waist. This immediately stabilised her, but I was not exactly happy about it. Nor, judging by her expression, was Sophia.

“That’s a little intimate, Mitchell!” I said sharply.

“Aww come on, Clem,” said Mitchell. “It’s helping, isn’t it? Just take the photo. Smile, Sophia.” And he grinned.

Pursing my lips, I took the photo. It was clear and well-framed, Sophia’s leg was nice and high, and she was even managing a slightly embarrassed smile. The ugly mass of poop weighing down the fabric of her panties was an unpleasant component, of course, but almost worse than that was the sight of Mitchell cuddling her from behind, and grinning over her shoulder as if he, and not I, were her husband.

“It’s done,” I said. “You can let her go now, Mitchell.”

He turned his head and gave Sophia a peck on the cheek. “Good girl, Sophia,” he said. “Between us we’ll help Clem get over his hang-ups.” Then, thankfully, he withdrew his arms and took a step back. “Let’s get inside,” he said. “Your room or mine? Whichever we pick is going to get a little smelly…”

“Yours, then,” I replied. Not just because of the smell; I had a hunch it would be easier for us to ditch Mitchell by leaving his room, than trying to kick him out of ours.

“Fine,” he said. “303. Let’s go.”

We took the stairs up to the third and uppermost floor, so that I could take more photos of Sophia’s loaded panties while she climbed a few steps ahead of me. I stubbornly looked only at my phone as I did so; I didn’t enjoy having my head so close to her poop and was reluctant to look at it so closely.

We arrived at room 303, and Mitchell let us in. “Right,” he said, once he had closed the door behind us. “You’ve done well so far, Clem, but I kinda feel like you’ve fallen into the trap of employing dissociative coping mechanisms to help you deal with this, rather than fully embracing Sophia’s fetish as part of who she is.”

“It’s not part of who I am!” said Sophia indignantly. “And it’s not my fetish! It’s yours!”

“Okay okay, fair enough,” said Mitchell in a placating tone, “but that’s really just nitpicking. It makes no difference in the long run. Clem’s still got to get used to the idea of you pooping in your panties, and accepting of it. Otherwise today’s events will haunt him forever.”

“Ugh!” Sophia exclaimed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into pooping in my panties! Clem and I would have been just fine if he’d never known about it!”

“Possibly,” Mitchell conceded, “but what’s done is done. Now we just have to exercise some damage control. First of all, take off your skirt and top. I think my earlier instinct, of encouraging Clem’s arousal while simultaneously making him look at your poop, was the correct one. Excite him with your boobs, while disgusting him with your poop. Two opposing emotions, battling for Clem’s mind. Something’s got to give, and as a newly married man about to enjoy his wedding night with his virgin bride, there’s no way he’s going to let his disgust win that battle. Right Clem?”

“Right,” I said uncertainly.

“Good,” said Mitchell. “Okay. Come on then, Sophia – let’s see those gorgeous boobs.”

Reluctantly, Sophia took off her skirt, followed by her top. I could not help but smile at the sight of her breasts, and my loins began to stir. But then she turned around to put her clothes on the chair in the corner of the room, and my arousal abated. I grimaced at the unsightly bulge in her panties.

Mitchell fetched a towel from the en suite bathroom, and spread it out on his bed. “Why don’t you climb up on here and lie down in a seductive pose?” he suggested. “Let’s see if we can get Clem’s pulse racing.”

Sophia hesitated, then she kicked off her shoes, climbed on to the bed, and carefully lay down on her right side. Raising her left knee with her left foot planted on the bed, she then brought her right knee forward until her thigh was almost perpendicular to her torso, with her foot tucked back. Her poop-filled panties were thus grossly displayed, and I shuddered at the sight of the brown mound now largely visible either side of the narrowest part of the panties.

“What a lovely pose!” said Mitchell in delight. “Take a photo, dude.”

I did so.

“Doesn’t she look sexy, Clem?” Mitchell pressed me. “That’s a sexy pose!”

“It is,” I agreed, “and I love Sophia’s breasts. But the poop … ugh.”

“You really can’t enjoy the view?” Mitchell asked. “Despite her poop? You can’t get excited?”

I sighed. “Well it’s not easy to get excited in this situation. It’s obvious Sophia isn’t enjoying herself, so how can I? I’m an empathetic guy, Mitchell. I don’t get off on women’s discomfort and embarrassment.”

“Very commendable,” said Mitchell, nodding. “And Sophia’s certainly acting pretty uncomfortable and unhappy. But I’m still convinced she enjoys this kind of thing, even if just on some primal level.”

“I don’t,” said Sophia stubbornly.

“Then you need to fake it!” said Mitchell firmly. “Clem’s made a good point, and I can understand why he’s finding this difficult. But it’ll be a lot easier for him if you at least appear to be having fun.”

“Easier said than done,” Sophia remarked.

Mitchell chuckled. “You managed to convince me well enough, when we were together. Unless you faked all those orgasms…?”

Sophia blushed. “I … I didn’t fake them,” she admitted. “But that’s different! It wasn’t the poop that, you know, got me going. It was your fingers.”

Mitchell grinned, and turned to me. “I am pretty good with my fingers,” he confided, which made me scowl in annoyance. I did not want to think about this asshole rubbing my wife’s pussy! Then he turned back to Sophia. “Okay, so masturbate!” he said. “Give yourself an orgasm while Clem watches. Or at least get yourself close enough for him to see how horny you are, despite the poop in your panties.”

Sophia looked scandalised. “You seriously want me to masturbate with poop in my panties and the two of you watching me? Jeez, Mitchell!”

Mitchell grinned. “I could do it for you, if you like.”

“No!” I said quickly.

“Oh, you’d rather do it yourself?” Mitchell asked impishly. “Go on then! Get yourself up close to that big ball of poop, pull her panties aside, and rub her clit until she climaxes. I find it helps to smear some of the poop on her clit too – she seems to like that.”

“Ohm Gohmm!” I said, my words muffled by the hand I had clamped to my mouth.

Mitchell laughed. “No? Hmm, well then, it’s got to be either Sophia herself, or me. Probably best, in any case – you’re manning the camera.”

“I’ll do it,” said Sophia sullenly. “I just don’t think it’ll work. It’s hard to arouse myself like this, with Clem standing there, clearly disgusted by it all.”

“Good point!” said Mitchell. “Clem, you’ll need to do your part too. You’ve got to stop looking so grossed out … even if you’re feeling that way. You don’t need to come over and sniff Sophia’s poop and go “Yum yum!” or anything like that; just act like you’re happy with what she’s doing and think she’s still wonderful and sexy despite all the poop. You think you can do that?”

I was shuddering at the notion of sniffing Sophia’s poop at point-blank range, but I nodded. “I think so.”

“Good,” said Mitchell. “Now, Sophia, you start masturbating, and see how horny you can get yourself. It’s imperative that you become aroused, so Clem can see, or at least imagine, that you’re loving this experience.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, panicking suddenly as Sophia started rubbing her pussy through her panties. “I, uh, I really don’t think you should be present for this, Mitchell! You’re not her husband, or her boyfriend anymore, and you’ve seen enough of her already, I think! You’ve been very helpful, but Sophia and I can take it from here.”

Sophia smiled at me gratefully.

But Mitchell sighed and shook his head. “Clem, I wish I could believe that, but everything you’ve done so far has convinced me otherwise. You’re lousy at hiding your feelings. You need constant reminders of our mission here. You’re honestly terrible at staying on task, and embracing the spirit of the exercise. If I leave now, you and Sophia will almost immediately abandon the exercise in favour of a quick and easy resolution, which will be utterly damaging in the long run. Fatal to your marriage. It might take weeks, or months … but soon enough, and likely within a year, the cracks in the facade of your wedded bliss will widen to the point that they lead inevitably to your breakup. And as much as I’d enjoy swooping in at that point and reclaiming Sophia for my own … I want to help you both stay together! I like you, Clem. You’re a nice guy. And Sophia loves you. I want to keep your marriage intact. Please, let me continue to help you both.”

Once again, his eloquence won me over. “All right,” I said grudgingly. “I do appreciate your help, Mitchell. I guess you can stay – if it’s all right with Sophia.”

“I guess so,” she reluctantly concurred.

Mitchell smiled. “Okay,” he said. “Now cheer up, Clem. Look happy and excited by what Sophia’s doing. Smile at her, encourage her, make sure she knows you love her and approve of what she’s doing. Sophia, go ahead and masturbate.”

The awkwardness in the air was almost tangible as Sophia began rubbing her pussy through her panties, and I put on a glassy smile. “Good job, Sophia,” I said stiffly. “I love it. You look very sexy.” And I took a photo, followed by another.

I am not sure that she really believed me, but she continued rubbing herself, while fixing her pretty eyes on mine. Not knowing what else to do, I moved a little to my left so I could photograph her from another angle. “Very nice,” I said.

After a minute, Mitchell shook his head sadly. “My god, this is tragic,” he said. “You could cut the sexual tension in this room with a wet sock. Clem, you look like a robot trying to mimic human emotions. Sophia, you look gorgeous and you’re clearly trying hard, but I’m guessing you’re really not feeling it. Am I right?”

Sophia stopped rubbing. “Yeah,” she admitted.

“Guys, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to step in and rescue you both,” said Mitchell. “I know neither of you wants it, but I know how to get Sophia excited … and if I don’t do it myself, it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna happen at all.”

“I don’t want you touching Sophia!” I protested plaintively.

“Even if it’s the only way to save your marriage?” Mitchell inquired. “Because we’re kind of out of options here. And the longer this drags on, the more difficult it’s gonna get. Now you can continue to torture yourselves, and each other, for the next hour if you like, until you give up in frustration and start sniping at each other … or you can let me step in and bring the whole thing to a rapid conclusion.”

I groaned in despair. “Sophia, what do you think?” I asked.

She grimaced unhappily. “Darling, I hate the thought of Mitchell touching me just as much as you do,” she said, “but I’m getting quite desperate to get this over with. If there’s a chance Mitchell can achieve that – and I think there is – I think I’d like to just bite the bullet and go for it. But only with your blessing. I’d never let another man touch me in that sort of way, for any reason, unless you were okay with it.”

“Not even a gynaecologist?” Mitchell inquired.

“That’s different,” said Sophia. “That’s … medical.”

“So’s this, kind of,” Mitchell reasoned. “Think of this as a form of therapy.”

“You … have my blessing,” I said, though it galled me greatly to say so.

“Awesome,” said Mitchell, grinning. He quickly took off his shoes, followed by his jeans and t-shirt.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I demanded.

“Relax, Clem!” he replied. “I’m just making sure I don’t get any poop on my clothes. If I get some on my underwear, I can live with that, but I only brought one pair of jeans. Heck, Sophia’s wearing nothing but her panties – I’d have thought you’d be more upset about that than about me stripping to my skivvies.”

“Well … I am,” I conceded. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t whip out your schlong, or Sophia and I will be out of here faster than you can say … uh … Port Cruachan.” My attempt to be firm and commanding was, I felt, rather undermined by the lame way I had finished that sentence, but fortunately Mitchell took it the right way.

“Understood!” he said. “No whipping-out of the schlong. Although I hope you’ll forgive my boner – unlike you I’m highly aroused by Sophia’s poop-filled panties, so my own arousal is inevitable.”

His erection was, indeed, highly prominent in his jockey shorts, though I only got a glimpse of his bulge before I hastily averted my eyes.

“Just keep it away from Sophia,” I muttered.

Mitchell climbed on to the bed behind Sophia, and lay down, propped up on his right elbow. “Good thing I’m a lefty,” he remarked, as he reached his hand down to Sophia’s panties. She gasped a little as he laid his fingers on her pussy, and began to gently rub her labia and clitoris through the material.

“There,” he whispered in her ear, just loudly enough for me to make out the words. “Doesn’t this feel nice?”

Sophia did not reply; she just bit her lip and looked at me apologetically.

“You’re very tense,” Mitchell remarked. “Clem, dude, you gotta give Sophia permission to relax and enjoy this. I get the feeling she’s got some misplaced guilt going on here.”

I realised my fists were clenched at my sides, and I forced myself to relax. “It’s okay, Darling,” I said stonily … and unconvincingly. I took a deep breath. “Darling, this is in a good cause,” I continued. “I know you’re probably anxious about hurting my feelings, but don’t worry. Let Mitchell do his thing, and you just let it happen and let yourself enjoy it. That’s the best way to get this over quickly. Okay?”

Sophia visibly relaxed. “Okay,” she said, nodding. She let her head fall back on to Mitchell’s pillow, and closed her eyes. As Mitchell continued rubbing her pussy, I could see her beginning to breathe a little more heavily.

“Does this being back memories, Honey?” Mitchell murmured, smiling.

“Don’t spoil it, Mitchell,” Sophia replied. “And I’m not your honey anymore. I haven’t been for four years.”

“Point taken,” said Mitchell, “but a little naughty talk is important in the arousal process. You’re still fighting against it. You need to surrender to the moment, welcome my fingers, take on the role of my lover for the next few minutes, so you can fully enjoy this.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I grumbled.

“Clem!” said Mitchell in exasperation. “Not helping!”

“Oh – sorry,” I said, abashed. Clearly I was interfering with his process, which would no doubt prolong the agony. I resolved to keep my mouth shut.

This resolve, however, was put to a rather extreme test a moment later, as Mitchell suddenly pulled the front of Sophia’s panties to one side.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed.

“Mitchell!” Sophia gasped, grabbing his wrist with her left hand.

“Will you two both calm down?” said Mitchell, unruffled. “Rubbing you through your panties is nice, but this will go quicker if I can rub you directly. There’s no need to act shocked; I’ve done this before quite a few times, haven’t I?”

“While we were together!” Sophia protested, as Mitchell calmly massaged her bare pussy with his fingers.

“Yes yes, I know,” said Mitchell, “and now you’re married to Clem. But he’s given us his blessing to do this, and nobody said it had to be through your panties. It’s just easier and better this way. And quicker. It’s best for all of us.”

I was almost choking on all the things I wanted to say. Eventually all I managed to blurt out was, “You shaved, Sophia?”

She groaned. “It was supposed to be a surprise for this evening!” she said. “Sorry Darling.”

Mitchell chuckled. “Sorry to spoil the surprise,” he said. “But your wedding night will be fantastic anyway … as long as we finish this process and get Clem’s head on straight.”

I wanted to wrench my eyes away from the sight of Mitchell groping my wife’s naked pussy … partly because that alone was horrifying to watch, but also because in uncovering Sophia’s pussy, Mitchell had also exposed even more of her poop. The disgusting pile was so large that it was eclipsing her vagina and almost reaching her clit. Mitchell’s fingers were almost brushing against the poop as they rubbed her soft flesh in sensuous circles. I found myself dreading seeing a smear of poop on his fingers, and that smear in turn fouling Sophia’s labia. I knew this was a silly thought – the poop was already no doubt smeared all over her buttocks and around the entrance to her vagina – but I could not see that, and my mind wanted to pretend that her big ball of poop would somehow come away cleanly, leaving her pristine and pure. I was not sure how well I would handle seeing poop actually smeared on her skin. Probably not well at all.

“Mind the poop, Mitchell!” I said uneasily.

Mitchell looked up at me in surprise. Then he looked down again, and to my horror, he stuck his fingers into the huge chunk of poop, pulled out a piece the size of a ping-pong ball, and squished it against Sophia’s clitoris. “This poop?” he inquired.

“Oh my God!” I cried, utterly horrified.

“Ugh, Mitchell!” Sophia exclaimed.

But Mitchell calmly began massaging the little lump of poop into Sophia’s clit and labia. “This is part of the experience, Clem,” he said. “Sophia and I used to do this all the time, didn’t we Sophia? Remember all the poopgasms I used to give you?” He chuckled. “Sophia may want to deny it, but she came pretty hard whenever I rubbed poop all over her pussy. She said it felt really good. Am I lying, Sophia?”

“No,” Sophia admitted. “But it wasn’t because it was poop! It was the stimulation that did it. It would have worked the same way with any squishy substance. Like banana – it worked with banana, remember?”

“I do remember,” said Mitchell, continuing to smear Sophia’s poop over her pussy. “I also remember it gave you a terrible rash. That was one experiment we didn’t repeat.”

I had turned my head away, unable to watch anymore. “Can you stop doing that, please!” I begged Mitchell.

“Interesting,” said Mitchell. “You were perfectly fine with looking at Sophia’s poop, and perfectly fine with seeing me rub her pussy … but mixing them together is what tips the balance?”

“I wasn’t ‘perfectly fine’ with any of it!” I retorted indignantly. “It’s all been awful!”

“But you were coping,” said Mitchell. “Until now.”

“Even ‘coping’ is a strong word!” I said. “But I was enduring it. This, though … it’s too much! You’re fouling Sophia’s most intimate parts! I was hoping to touch those later!”

“Goodness, Clem,” said Mitchell with a chuckle. “However will you handle anal sex? It’s just poop, dude. It’ll wash off. A quick shower, and Sophia will be as clean as ever. Don’t worry – your wedding night will be all you’ve hoped for.”

“That’s not the point!” I groaned. “Now I’ll have that mental image of you rubbing poop … there.”

“Of course!” said Mitchell. “Of course you will. It’s a sight you find shocking and unpleasant. It’ll last in your memory as a powerful image – an image with the ability to control your mind and distract you from more important things. But it doesn’t have to be that way, Clem. You can take away the power of that image. You can turn it into an ordinary, mundane memory, with no more authority over your emotions than … than any other unpleasant memory. Like the last time you were sick. Or the time when a bad driver did something to irritate you. Bad memories like those can stay with you forever … but they don’t have to control you. And the way to take away their power, Clem, is to face them head-on, stare them right in the face, and not back down until they’ve lost their shock value.”

“Did you learn all this from a therapist?” I inquired, grudgingly impressed with his insightful eloquence. I dared to glance back at him.

“As a matter of fact I did,” replied Mitchell with a smile, his fingers thoroughly coating Sophia’s pussy with a thin layer of her poop. “A couple of years ago I had a girlfriend who was really into the whole therapy thing. I wasn’t interested in going, at first, but we hit a rough patch and she talked me into trying couples therapy. It didn’t work – we broke up not long after – but I did learn some valuable insights.”

“Oh God!” I muttered, clutching my mouth and running into Mitchell’s bathroom. I almost threw up in the toilet, but somehow managed to hold my lunch down. I went to the basin, and splashed some cold water on my face. Then I dried myself, and nervously returned to Mitchell and Sophia.

Sophia was clutching the bedclothes with her fists, and breathing heavily with her eyes closed. Mitchell was still rubbing her poop-caked pussy with his filthy fingers.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Not really,” I grumbled. “I managed not to throw up, though.”

“That’s a start,” he said. “Come on – take some photos.”

“Ugh,” I said, grimacing. “Do I have to?”

“Yes!” he said. “You’re still thinking in terms of minimising your exposure to this fetish. But don’t you see that won’t cut it? You need to immerse yourself in it, embrace it, get down and dirty with it.”

“I don’t want to get dirty!” I said quickly.

He chuckled. “I only meant figuratively. I actually think it would be good for you if we swapped places, and you shoved your hand into that pile of poop and plastered it over Sophia’s pussy … but as fun as that would be to watch, I don’t actually think it’s necessary.”

I could not help feeling a huge sense of relief!

“However,” he continued, “It’s imperative that you embrace the visual side. There’s no getting around the fact that it’s the images, burned into your retinas, which are most likely to haunt you. Now come closer, and watch me mash some more poop into Sophia’s pussy…”

I groaned. “Mitchell, I’m sorry, but I can only take so much of this without throwing up! I was starting to get a handle on the bulging panties, and even the sight of the ball of poop inside … but watching her ex-boyfriend massaging poop into her pussy … my brain’s overwhelmed!”

Mitchell paused, looking thoughtful. “Hmm,” he said. “Perhaps I should have anticipated that. I imagine you’ve got some feelings of jealousy going on right now, yes? It must be hard to watch another man playing with your wife’s pussy. And that, on top of the poop aspect … that must be pretty tough to get your head around.”

“Yes!” I agreed vehemently. “It is!”

“So let’s uncouple the two things,” Mitchell continued. “Get you used to both things separately, and only join them together again once you’re more comfortable.”

“What would that involve?” I asked warily.

“Well, for a start, it would involve Sophia cleaning herself up,” said Mitchell. “You’re obviously sick of the sight of poop, so let’s tackle the jealousy thing first. Once we’ve taken care of that, we’ll get back to the poop, but for now I think you’ve earned a reprieve.”

“That sounds good!” I said, feeling hugely relieved at the thought of Sophia getting clean.

Mitchell climbed off the bed. “Let me wash my hand first,” he said, “then Sophia can have the bathroom.”

While Mitchell was out of the room, Sophia pulled her panties across, covering her poop-smeared pussy. “This isn’t how I imagined our honeymoon!” she said sadly.

“Nor me,” I agreed. “Ugh – this is just dragging on and on! But at least you can clean up now. That’ll be nice, right?”

“Yes,” she replied. “But then he’ll be rubbing my pussy in front of you, which is not my idea of fun!”

I shuddered. “How the heck did he talk us into this?” I wondered aloud.

“I told you, he’s a master manipulator,” said Sophia bitterly.

“Then let’s just ditch him!” I said. “While he’s in the bathroom. Let’s just grab your clothes and go back to our room. You can empty your panties out there, and we’ll pretend this whole awful thing never happened.”

“I’d love to!” said Sophia, climbing off the bed. “But … aren’t you worried about, you know, the mental images interfering with our love life? Mitchell’s definitely an asshole, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong; he was very convincing on that point.”

“Well…” I felt I had to be honest. “Certain images from today are likely to stick with me,” I admitted, “but if I need a psychiatrist’s help to get over that, I think we can do better than Mitchell! If it turns out I can’t get it up or whatever when we’re making love, because of intrusive thoughts … let’s make an appointment with someone who isn’t your ex-boyfriend.”

“I like that idea!” said Sophia. “It wouldn’t be soon enough for our wedding night, of course, but…”

“Your turn, Sophia!” said Mitchell, emerging from the bathroom. “Take all the time you need; get yourself nice and clean for Clem’s viewing pleasure. Leave the poop in your panties, though – we’ll need it later.”

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat, “Sophia and I were just talking, and we feel we’d like to call a half to this, and go back to our room to clean up … and see a psychiatrist of our choosing in order to address any … any issues with my performance.”

“When you get back Stateside?” Mitchell inquired.

I nodded.

“You’re going to sacrifice your entire honeymoon, just because you don’t want to take care of the issue here and now?” Mitchell went on. “Two weeks in Scotland, with night after night of disastrous attempts to consummate your marriage? Dude, you’ll have broken up by the time you go back home! And even if you somehow stay together – maybe by choosing to remain abstinent for the whole two weeks – you still have to find a psychiatrist with availability in their schedule. And let’s say you get lucky and manage to see someone in your first week back – do you think they’re going to fix the issue on day one? Of course not! That wouldn’t be good business. They’ll stretch it out over weeks and weeks, so that they can milk you for as much money as they can. And perhaps eventually they might help you … but it’s by no means certain. You’ll have had literally weeks for those memories to have embedded themselves into your psyche. Why risk that, when you can nip it in the bud here and now?”

I groaned. Once again the man was making a horrible kind of sense. “Ugh, you’re probably right,” I said unhappily. “But Mitchell, can you guarantee your method will work? Today?”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “Clem,” he said, “I told you I would make sure you get your wedding night, and I meant it. Not in two weeks, not in one week, not tomorrow … but tonight.”

“You promise?” I said hopefully.

Michael laughed. “I can’t promise something that you’ll have to deliver,” he said. “When it comes down to it, you’re the one who’ll have to step up and perform. All I can do is give you the best possible chance, by removing the obstacles caused by mental images you find disgusting. If you can’t perform tonight, it won’t be because you’re turned off by poop. And that’ll be on you.”

I nodded. “I understand,” I said.

Sophia sighed. “I guess I’ll go and clean up then,” she said.

“You sound so reluctant!” said Mitchell in delight. “That’s my girl.”

“I’m not your girl!” Sophia muttered irritably as she marched into the bathroom, her bulging panties bouncing with each step. “I was just hoping to spend today being intimate with my husband instead of you.”

“His turn will come,” Mitchell assured her, as she closed the door. Then he turned to me. “I guess she’ll be a little while. Want a game of cards while we wait?”

I shrugged. “Sure,” I said.

We played rummy, which he and I both knew well, for ten minutes or so. Then the bathroom door opened and Sophia appeared, naked and looking bashful, with her hands clasped in front of her pussy.

“Excellent,” said Mitchell with a grin. He gathered up the cards, and quickly formed them into a deck, which he slotted back into their little box. “Back on the bed please, Sophia, and adopt a suitably sexy pose.”

While Sophia climbed on to the bed, Mitchell went into the bathroom. When he returned, he was carrying a bottle of baby oil.

I stared at it. “What’s that for?” I inquired suspiciously.

“I’m going to rub it into Sophia’s pussy,” said Mitchell, with surprising candidness. “A glistening pussy looks better in photos, and it’ll be more pleasant for Sophia – less friction, you know?”

“But how come you even had it?” I demanded. “Did you plan all this in advance?”

He looked at me in amusement. “No, Clem, I had no idea I was going to run into an old girlfriend today. I always carry this stuff! I was actually hoping I might hit it off with a local girl...”

“That’s your modus operandi, is it?” I asked. “Meet a girl, invite her back to your hotel room, slather her pussy in baby oil?”

Mitchell laughed. “Well you missed a few steps, but you’re not far wrong,” he said. “It worked for me once, and I live in hope that it’ll work again someday – and maybe next time I’ll find a life partner. You make me sound like a player, but I’m really not; like most people I’m always hoping to find The One, you know? Someone to spend my life with. I envy you, Clem. Not just because you found yourself a wife, but also because that wife happens to be, for me, the One That Got Away. If things had worked out differently, I’d have married Sophia myself.”

“Fortunately I dodged that bullet!” said Sophia from the bed.

“That’s a little harsh,” said Mitchell, “but I’m glad the two of you found each other. I’m happy for you! And I want the best for your marriage … which is why I’m helping you like this. Okay Sophia, let’s oil up that delicious pussy of yours.” He mounted the bed, and lay down next to her.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked uncomfortably.

“It’s not necessary, but it’s better,” said Mitchell, “assuming you want this to go well, and quickly. Do I have to explain this all over again, or shall we just proceed?”

I sighed. “Let’s just get on with it,” I said. “I get why you’re doing it. I’m still not happy about it, but at least you’ll be using baby oil and not poop.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely preferable,” Sophia conceded.

Mitchell poured some baby oil into his cupped palm, then he reached between Sophia’s legs and started sensuously massaging her pussy. She was lying on her back, with her right leg demurely crossed over her left, but as Mitchell pressed his hand between her thighs, she reluctantly allowed them to part slightly.

“Take photos,” Mitchell encouraged me.

“Why?” I grumbled. Now that he was actually groping my wife, I was experiencing some rather intense jealous emotions.

“For homework!” said Mitchell. “For you to look at later. So I don’t have to keep doing this in person until you’ve completed this project. Pretty sure I explained this before, Clem. A sight like this might not be as traumatic for you as the sight of Sophia pooping in her panties…”

“That’s debatable,” I countered. “It’s pretty traumatic, Mitchell! How would you feel if you saw another man giving your wife’s pussy an oil massage on the first day of your honeymoon?”

Mitchell considered this. “I’d be pretty traumatised,” he admitted.

“Exactly!” I said.

Mitchell nodded. “And not just another man,” he added. “I’m her ex. This must be a pretty horrific mental image for you, Clem.”

“It is!” I agreed.

“But Clem,” said Mitchell, “surely you’re aware and understand that Sophia and I were intimate, back in the day? I mean, granted, we never had sex … but we did lots of other stuff. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” I said grimly. “But knowing it and seeing it are two different things.”

“I suppose so,” Mitchell acknowledged. “Sorry if I’ve further traumatised you with another haunting mental image, Clem! In my defence, it was in a good cause, but now it seems we need to overcome another type of disgust, and once again, desensitisation through exposure is the best way to address that. Fortunately, that’s what we’re already doing.”

“It’s not ‘disgusting’ so much as ‘infuriating’,” I told him. “I’m not sure the same treatment is warranted.”

“It’s still a form of disgust,” he said firmly. “You’re repelled by this sight, are you not?” And he pulled Sophia’s thighs apart, giving me a very explicit view of his fingers playing with her labia and clitoris.

“Not so much repelled as enraged!” I said, my fists clenching as I glared at him.

“Well, that’s not a healthy emotion either,” said Mitchell calmly. “How can you focus on getting comfortable with me rubbing Sophia’s pussy, if your brain is fired up with rage?”

“I don’t want to get comfortable with it!” I snapped.

“Why not?” Mitchell asked mildly.

“Because I want it to stop!” I replied. “If I get comfortable with it, that means accepting it, and if I accept it, it’s going to keep happening!”

“So it’s a defence mechanism,” said Mitchell, nodding. “That makes sense. A very natural reaction. But Clem, the thing about being a self-aware, rational human being is that we’re able to suppress our primal instincts when necessary in order to secure a more beneficial outcome. We push through short-term hardship in order to achieve longer-term goals. This can’t be an unfamiliar concept, surely?”

“No, I understand that,” I replied, frowning. “Of course I understand that. Otherwise I’d be attacking you right now instead of just watching.”

“Yeah, but you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm,” said Mitchell with a chuckle. “It’s not enough to barely hold yourself back while almost choking on your own rage, Clem. You need to calm yourself down, and learn to accept what you’ve chosen not to change. If you’ve accepted that me fondling Sophia’s pussy is necessary – which you did – you need to dispel the rage that it’s aroused in you. It’s doing you no good to stand there and fume about it.”

I pursed my lips, hesitating. “I guess not,” I conceded after a moment.

“Breathe deeply, and calm yourself,” Mitchell advised me. “Watch my fingers exploring your wife’s pussy, and force yourself to become unbothered by the sight. This’ll be a big step in getting over your jealousy AND your disgust. It’ll translate well to the poop thing too, you see. It’s a useful skill.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said warily. Then I sighed, and unclenched my fists. “But overriding one’s instincts isn’t easy.”

“It isn’t,” Mitchell agreed. “That’s why I’m here to help. Now, start taking photos – including close-ups. This will help you to gradually become more comfortable with this situation. You’ll never be totally comfortable with it – I understand that – but the goal is for you to be able to tolerate it without stress and pent-up rage.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “How about you, Sophia? Are you okay?”

“Yeh…hes,” Sophia panted, her eyes closed. Then she opened them, and looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said. “The rubbing … it’s having an unavoidable effect…”

“I’m sure,” I said with a grimace. “Hang in there, my darling. Hopefully this will soon be over.” As her eyes closed again, I took a photo. Then, having moved in a little, I took another, this one dominated by Mitchell’s fingers groping Sophia’s labia. I shuddered.

“You’re doing well, Clem!” said Mitchell. “Now let’s see how you handle a kiss…”

“I’m not kissing you, Mitchell!” said Sophia quickly, opening her eyes and looking at him sharply.

“Yes you are,” said Mitchell firmly. “If you want to help Clem, and your marriage, then yes you are. You know why? Because right now, Clem’s still got a wall up – a mental barrier that’s keeping him from fully accepting all this. He’s telling himself a convenient little lie – which is completely understandable, but not very helpful.”

“What lie?” I demanded.

“Forgive me,” said Mitchell apologetically. “I could well be wrong. If I am, I’ll take it back without reservation. But I have a strong hunch that you’re telling yourself that Sophia would never be intimate with me unless she was being forced, or coerced, or manipulated in some way … and that she would never actually willingly let me rub her pussy, or kiss her, or nibble on her ear, or whatever. It’s all just something she’s enduring, for one reason or another.”

I thought about this for a few seconds. “Um,” I said, “well … yeah…?”

“Yes, I’d say that’s about right!” Sophia agreed.

“That may or may not be the case now,” Mitchell conceded. “I personally suspect that on some level at least, Sophia has missed me over the past four years and is somewhat ambivalent about getting intimate with me again, whether or not she chooses to admit it.”

“You’re … delusional…” said Sophia – slightly breathlessly, as Mitchell was now directly rubbing her clitoris.

“Perhaps,” said Mitchell. “But four years ago was a different story! And my guess, Clem, is that you want to pretend I was somehow coercing her back then as well. That she wasn’t really my girlfriend by choice. That she only did naughty things with me because I pressured her into them.”

I hesitated, then shrugged. Sophia had practically said as much herself.

“Maybe she even believes it,” Mitchell went on. “But let me tell you, Clem, I’ve never been kissed with more enthusiasm than when she and I began dating. She couldn’t get enough of me! Sure, she had a pretty big limit on what we could do together, but aside from that, she was very, very willing.”

Sophia looked rather abashed. “You were my first proper boyfriend!” she said. “I was young, and inexperienced! And you totally took advantage of that.”

“I might have, I might have,” Mitchell conceded. “But that’s beside the point. The point is that you were very willing and eager, and Clem’s in denial about that. And that’s going to come back to bite you both in the ass unless he confronts that fact, and learns to accept it and be comfortable with it. In short, he needs to see us kissing. And not some forced kiss, where you’re clamping your lips shut and acting like you’re being forced. I need you to cast your mind back four years, put yourself in the shoes of sixteen-year-old Sophia, and act like you want it as much as I do.”

“I don’t want to do that!” Sophia protested. “I don’t want to kiss you, for a start … and I also think it’s a mean thing to do to Clem!”

“Yeah!” I agreed.

“It might seem so,” said Mitchell, “but you’ve got to look past the superficial. Fundamentally, it’s actually going to benefit both of you. If Clem sees you kissing me with enthusiasm, once the initial shock is over, he’ll come to accept that the time you spent with me is a part of your past, and a part of you. A part of who you are as a person. And that in turn will enable him to accept your panty-pooping past without feeling horror and disgust, and without it intruding into his thoughts when the two of you are being intimate.”

My stomach cramped. “I suppose you want me to take photos of you kissing, too?”

“Yup!” said Mitchell. “And video, too – I think that would be a good idea. Now come on, Sophia – let’s relive some old times.” And he leaned over her, pressing his lips against hers. She obstinately resisted at first, keeping her mouth shut … but as Mitchell continued stroking her clitoris, she eventually parted her lips, and Mitchell wormed his tongue into her mouth.

It was horrible to watch. Seeing Sophia’s naked breasts and pussy had aroused me at first, but watching her kiss Mitchell while he massaged her pussy had effectively killed my growing erection. Feeling rather sad and sorry for myself, I took a few photos, then began recording a video, zooming in on their faces as they French-kissed with the synergy of experienced lovers.

Then Sophia uttered a muffled squeal, which quickly subsided. For a moment I didn’t understand why … but then I realised Mitchell had slid his middle finger into her vagina! My jaw dropped, and anger welled up inside me.

“Hey!” I said indignantly. “You never said anything about finger-fucking her, Mitchell! That’s a step too far! Even I haven’t done that with her yet!”

Mitchell broke off from the kiss. “You haven’t?” he asked in surprise, as he continued sliding his finger in and out of my wife. “Heck, I used to do this with her all the time – didn’t I, Honey?”

“Don’t … call me Honey…” Sophia gasped. “And please … take your finger out.”

“No can do, Sophia,” said Mitchell, gently stroking her interior. “It’s important for Clem to see this – and to see you enjoying it. You’ve got to be honest, Sophia – with me, with Clem … and with yourself. You ARE enjoying this, right?”

“On a purely physical level … I guess so,” Sophia admitted, her cheeks flushed. “But I still don’t like it, because you’re not my boyfriend anymore, and I have a husband standing right there, who doesn’t want to see this!”

“But you understand why it’s necessary for him to see it, right?” said Mitchell. “I can explain it again if you don’t.”

“No,” she said glumly. “I understand.”

“Then stop beating yourself up about it,” said Mitchell, “and just let yourself enjoy it! Clem needs to see that. He might understand intellectually that you were once my willing lover, but he needs to understand it viscerally and emotionally. And, of course, he needs to get comfortable seeing it, so we’ll have to continue this until he’s no longer looking so upset about it.”

I tried my best not to look upset. Perhaps I could just pretend to be comfortable with what was happening, so that Mitchell would conclude that this portion of the exercise was over. But then, of course, we would be back to the poop … and I was not sure I was ready for that yet.

“Carry on,” I said, a little stiffly. “I’m getting more comfortable, I guess.”

Mitchell grinned, then he resumed kissing Sophia, while thrusting his finger in and out of her vagina with renewed vigour. Sophia, her thighs spread wide, began undulating her hips and uttering muffled moans. Apparently Mitchell had successfully persuaded her that it was okay for her to enjoy this.

But I was not enjoying it at all. I took a couple more photos, and a video of Mitchell’s finger penetrating my wife with rapid thrusts, and I tried to get used to the sight … but it was very difficult. I just felt miserable.

Then Mitchell pulled his face away from Sophia’s. “Feeling good?” he asked her.

Her face looking very flushed, she shrugged awkwardly. “I guess,” she said, panting a little. “You’re good at arousing me, obviously.”

“Remember the blowjobs you used to give me?” Mitchell went on. “I think Clem needs to see that.”

“What??” I exclaimed. “Oh no no – Sophia’s not giving you a blowjob!”

“It won’t be a real one,” Mitchell assured us. “We’ll just play-act it. And I know this won’t be easy on you, Clem. But I think I know how we can make it a little less traumatic for you, without undermining the goal we’re trying to achieve.”

“How?” I asked warily.

“You need to immerse yourself into your role as photographer!” said Mitchell. “Don’t just stand there mournfully taking photos of things you don’t want to see. Pretend you’re a professional photographer, in a studio, taking beautiful shots of a stunning model. And, I guess, her male modelling partner. Imagine you’re conducting an erotic photo shoot with a couple of professional models. If you subsume yourself into that role, I really think you’ll find this more palatable. You can even give us directions, if you like – as long as they’re in keeping with the spirit of the photo shoot, and not ‘Now put your clothes on and move to opposite sides of the room’, hehe!”

“I guess that’s worth a try,” I said reluctantly. I still didn’t want to see even a pretend blowjob, but adopting a kind of acting role might indeed make this more tolerable.

“Good!” said Mitchell. He pulled his finger out of Sophia, briefly sucked it clean, then he rolled on to his back, raised his legs in the air, and with one swift motion he whisked his underwear upward from his loins to his knees, then to his ankles, and then off completely. He tossed them nonchalantly on to the floor beside the bed, and then lowered his legs.

I quickly averted my eyes, but it was too late: I had seen his erection. It was a modest-sized cock – not quite as long as mine, though perhaps a little thicker.

Mitchell chuckled. “You won’t be able to play this role very well if you can’t even look at the subject matter, Clem!” he said, getting up on to his knees and turning to face Sophia. “Okay Honey,” he said, “bring your pretty lips up here. Pretend you’re about to suck my cock.”

Sophia got up into a kneeling position, sitting on her heels. Mitchell shuffled forward, as Sophia leaned towards him … and I felt my stomach lurch as my wife’s mouth approached to within about three inches of the tip of Mitchell’s erect penis.

“Get into character, Mr Photographer!” said Mitchell. “A real photographer would be directing and encouraging his models.”

“Oh, uh, right,” I said, shaking my head as if trying to clear it. “Um, good job, both of you.” I raised my phone. “Um, Sophia, why don’t you, uh, look up at Mitchell’s face.”

She dutifully did so, and I took a photo.

“Good, well done,” I said. “Um, now, I guess, open your mouth a little…?”

She did so, after only a moment’s hesitation.

“Good, good,” I said, taking another photo. “Uh, what now? Is that enough…?”

“Good grief, Clem!” said Mitchell, with a mirthless laugh. “Have you never witnessed a blowjob before? Talk us through it!”

“I know what’s involved in a blowjob!” I said irritably. “But you said this would just be a pretend one!”

“Yes, but it’s got to look like one in the photos!” said Mitchell. “Right now, the photos you’ve taken so far … they wouldn’t fool anyone! They wouldn’t make anyone think, ‘Wow, she’s really sucking that guy’s cock!’ Come on, Clem, you can do better.”

I felt foolish and embarrassed. “Right, right,” I said, nodding. “Uh … I guess … Sophia, why don’t you, um … take hold of his … shaft?”

Sophia turned and stared at me, looking shocked.

“Well I don’t know!” I said desperately. “I’ve never done this before, I don’t know what to say!”

“No, you’re fine, Clem, that was a good direction,” Mitchell assured me. “Clem’s doing his best, Sophia, and that was a good start. Let him figure his way through this. I’ll step in if he makes a mistake. Now take hold of my cock, like he said.”

Looking a little nervous, Sophia reached up with her right hand, and wrapped her fingers around the shaft of Mitchell’s erection.

“Mmm,” said Mitchell, smiling happily. “Good.”

“Yup, that’s … good,” I said unhappily. “Now, um, bring your face a little closer, I guess, and … uh … open your mouth.”

Sophia hesitated, then she leaned forward a little more, until her lips were barely an inch from Mitchell’s cock. Then she opened her mouth, looking for all the world like she was about to genuinely give him a blowjob.

I took a photo. “Great,” I said, without enthusiasm.

“You’re doing well, Clem!” Mitchell encouraged me. “Keep it going!”

I swallowed uncomfortably. “Uh, next,” I said, “why don’t you, um … move your mouth even closer? Like, almost touching?”

She did so, and I took another photo. But then I was at a loss for how to proceed. Any further, and Mitchell’s cock would actually be in my wife’s mouth.

“Keep going!” Mitchell urged me. “Get her to wrap her sweet lips around my cock.”

“What?” I said, aghast. “That wouldn’t be pretend anymore, Mitchell! That would be a real blowjob!”

“No it wouldn’t!” snorted Mitchell. “It wouldn’t be a real blowjob unless she were sucking on my cock, and bobbing her head up and down, and bringing me to my climax so that I could fill her mouth with my jizz. That’s a real blowjob! Just sticking my cock in her mouth doesn’t count; that’s just pretend.”

“You seriously expect me to direct my wife to put your cock in her mouth?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes!” he replied. “If you value your marriage and are committed to this exercise! Which, you know, you’ve already demonstrated by coming this far. Don’t back out now, Clem, after all you’ve been through, and all you’ve put Sophia through!”

“I’m not backing out,” I said stubbornly. “Fine. Sophia … close your lips around the head of his cock.”

Sophia stared at me, wide-eyed, and I shrugged helplessly. Then, as I watched with growing revulsion, she directed the bulbous head of Mitchell’s rigid member into her mouth, and closed her lips upon it.

“Nice!” said Mitchell in delight. “Photo, Clem?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said, and I took another photo.

“Keep it going, Clem!” said Mitchell.

I gulped. What more could I have Sophia do? Mitchell’s cock was already slightly in her mouth. The next step was, I guessed, kind of obvious … but it made my soul die a little to think of it. As Mitchell stared at me expectantly, and Sophia’s mouth remained clamped on to his cock, I heard myself saying, “Okay, Sophia … now take more of it into your mouth.”

I then had to watch in utter disgust as Mitchell’s cock sank deeper into my wife’s mouth. I got the impression that he gently pushed his loins forward as she was leaning forward herself, so that she took in more of his shaft than she intended. But it did not matter much; the fact was that I had instructed my wife to take another man’s penis into her mouth, and she had done so. It was a surreal and unpleasant experience.

“Good, well done,” I said listlessly, and I took another photo.

“How about a little video?” Mitchell suggested. “You can hold still, Sophia; I’ll just slowly ease my cock in and out of your mouth a bit.”

“That’s more like a real blowjob!” I protested.

“No, not at all,” said Mitchell. “Sophia won’t be actively sucking on me, and until she does that, it’s not a proper blowjob. But we need some kind of motion for the video, and it’s either me sliding in and out, like I said, or Sophia fapping me with her hand – and I’m guessing you wouldn’t be too happy about her doing that.”

“You’re right about that!” I agreed. “But I’m not happy with your idea either!”

“Lesser of two evils,” said Mitchell with a shrug. “But heck, you’re the cameraman. Which would you prefer?”

I ground my teeth. “Your idea, I guess,” I said reluctantly.

Mitchell put his hands either side of Sophia’s head, and held it in place as he began to thrust with his hips, pushing his cock deeper into her mouth and then pulling it out again until only the head was still inside, over and over again. “Ohh, this is so good…” he murmured, closing his eyes. “You can start recording, Clem.”

“I am, I am!” I said, feeling quite rattled. Seeing Mitchell basically fucking my wife’s mouth was even more horrific than I had feared.

“Mmmm,” said Mitchell. “I know we said no sucking, Sophia honey, but my cock’s kinda bouncing around in there. I need you to use your tongue and a little bit of suction to hold it in place.”

My dismay increased as I watched Sophia’s cheeks hollow a little, suggesting she was now actually sucking on Mitchell’s cock. “Oh my God!” I exclaimed.

“So good!” gasped Mitchell, thrusting harder. “I know this probably looks bad, Clem … but even now … it’s not a proper blowjob. She’s just … holding my cock in place while I … ohhh…” He abruptly pulled out. “Better stop there before I have an accident!” he chuckled.

Sophia hung her head, looking very ashamed.

“No more of that, please!” I said. “That was way too … sexual.”

“It’s all sexual, Clem,” said Mitchell dismissively. “But as long as you got a good video of that, we don’t need to repeat it. You … did get a good video, right?”

I pursed my lips. “I got a video,” I said. “How ‘good’ it was, I’m not sure.”

“We’ll take a look later,” said Mitchell. “If it’s not up to par, we’ll redo the pretend blowjob. But for now, it’s time to reverse roles. Sophia, lie on your back, and I’ll give you pretend cunnilingus.”

“Oh jeez!” I said painedly. “Surely that isn’t necessary?”

“Better than a blowjob, surely?” said Mitchell in surprise. “From Sophia’s point of view, and yours. She doesn’t have to do anything except lie still, and my cock isn’t anywhere near her.”

“I guess so…” I conceded.

As Sophia lay down on her back, Mitchell pulled her knees apart, then got on all fours, lowering his face to her pussy. As his buttocks splayed in front of my phone, I scrambled hurriedly out of the way, coming around to the side of the bed so I could film what he was doing.

He was licking my wife’s clitoris, and then sucking on it. I felt a rush of fury, and almost lost my cool. I wanted to push him off her … push him off the bed, even … and then lay into him with my fists. That would feel SO satisfying!

But I forced myself to calm down, and think rationally. Was this any worse than watching him fucking Sophia’s mouth? No, probably not. Was it worse than him sticking his finger into her vagina, and thrusting it in and out? Again, no.

So I held myself back, said nothing, and took photos … and even a video. I did not attempt to direct him; he seemed to know what he was doing.

Sophia clearly thought so too. After less than a minute, her eyes were closed, her back was arching, her toes were curling up, her hands were clutching the bedspread, and she was panting heavily.

For a moment, I was afraid that Mitchell would bring Sophia to orgasm. She certainly appeared to be getting close, and that was making me feel very anxious. Fortunately, Mitchell stopped sucking on her clit, and knelt up with a chuckle. “Sounds like you were enjoying that, Honey!” he remarked. “Did you get a good video, Clem?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly. I had learned my lesson.

“Good, good,” he said. “I don’t think you took a kissing video, though, did you…?”

“No, I think that was just photos,” I replied.

“Okay, so let’s get a video of that, then,” said Mitchell, and he promptly lay down on top of Sophia, bringing his face down to hers, and kissing her on the lips.

“Gah!” I gasped in anguish, seeing his naked loins pressing down on my wife’s. Her thighs, still spread wide, extended sideways from beneath his hips. “Mitchell, mind where your cock is!” I said urgently.

Mitchell broke off from the kiss. “Don’t worry, Clem, it’s not going in,” he assured me. Then he resumed French-kissing Sophia.

I was not much reassured, but I nevertheless began recording a video of their kiss, which looked worryingly enthusiastic, from both sides. The thought occurred to me that perhaps, horrifyingly, Mitchell might have aroused Sophia so much that she was no longer in her right mind, and was actually keen for him to keep kissing and groping her.

It was to my great relief, then, when she pushed his shoulders away from her, and said, with very flushed cheeks, “Mitchell, please stop rubbing your cock on my pussy!”

Mitchell, who was now undulating his pelvis against hers, simply chuckled. “As long as I don’t push it in, what difference does it make?” he asked. “I’ve been using my tongue and my fingers on you … there’s no need for the shaft of my cock to cause you any concern.”

“I’m worried you’ll … slip, or something,” Sophia replied. “I’m in a very vulnerable position here!”

Mitchell grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s incredibly sexy. Look, if you’re worried about me slipping, wrap your legs around me to hold me in place. Then there will be less danger of that happening. Put your arms around my neck, too – that’ll help even more.” He kissed her again, and as he resumed grinding his pelvis against hers, she quickly wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping him tightly. This did not seem to significantly impair his movements, however, and he continued thrusting his hips.

I stopped recording, and stared at the two of them in despair. The sight was horrendous. Sophia and her ex were pressed together, absolutely naked, limbs entwined and grinding their private parts against each other, and kissing with hungry, squirming tongues. How had the first day of our honeymoon come to this??

“Stop, stop!” I begged them. “I can’t take any more of this!”

Mitchell pulled his face away from Sophia’s. “You’re quitting, Clem? So close to the finish line? Are you sure you want to do that?”

I felt frozen. “Y…yes,” I managed eventually. “I want to quit. I want to take Sophia back to our room, and salvage whatever we can from the rest of our honeymoon.”

“Even though you know that could ruin your marriage?” Mitchell asked, puzzled. “Risky move, Clem! Are you sure you don’t want to run that by your wife first? She’ll be as badly hurt by this decision as you will.”

“I don’t care!” I snapped. Then I immediately regretted it. “I mean, of course I care. I just mean that I’m not going to let you talk me out of it! I want this to stop, here and now. Sophia and I need to go off by ourselves and spend some time together, without you in the picture!”

“Again, Clem,” said Mitchell patiently, “you should get your wife’s opinion on this matter before making any rash decisions. You’ve been making good progress, and with the stakes involved, I think she should have her say before you throw it all away.”

“I … I agree with Clem,” said Sophia quietly. “I want this to stop too, Mitchell.”

“Thank you!” I said, in huge relief.

Mitchell sighed, and climbed off Sophia. “All right, well if that’s your decision,” he said. “Apparently I’ve failed to impress on you the seriousness of the threat to your marriage.”

“It’s not that, Mitchell,” said Sally, sitting up and hugging her knees. “You’ve been very convincing, and I’m sure you’re probably right that we’re going to have issues in bed … but that’s something Clem and I need to resolve ourselves.”

“Without help?” asked Mitchell. “Without guidance? I understand the instinct – nobody wants to discuss intimate problems with a stranger – but neither of you has any experience with sexual dysfunction issues. You’re committing marriage suicide if you try to work this out on your own. You’ll need help.”

I shrugged awkwardly. “If we need to, we’ll go to a psychiatrist.”

“You’ve got a short memory, haven’t you Clem?” said Mitchell. “Did I not explain to you how long that would take? How it would drag on and on, costing you more and more money, while the shrink milks you for all your worth; and maybe doesn’t even fix the problem at all? Because by that time, Clem, the attraction you currently feel towards Sophia will have been replaced with the images of her pooping in her panties, of her walking around town with her bulging panties hanging below her skirt, of her mouth wrapped around my cock, of her lying naked beneath me as I kiss her and rub my cock against her pussy. All those images…”

“Those images are all your fault!” I exclaimed hotly. “We’d have been fine if you hadn’t made all that happen!”

“Fine?” Mitchell inquired. “Not exactly. You’d have been a lot better off than you are now, certainly.”

“Thank you!” I said. “At least you admit it! It our marriage is doomed, it’ll be your fault!”

“Clem,” said Mitchell patiently, “suppose you take your car in for a service. It has a minor rattle, but it’s otherwise running just fine. The mechanics investigate the rattle, but an immediate diagnosis proves elusive. So they take the engine apart, looking for the problem. Eventually they find it, and begin to painstakingly put it all back together … but then you come in and say, ‘Hey, look what you idiots have done! My car’s a mess now! I’m going to take it home and try and fix it myself! Or maybe get another company to fix it.’ Do you see what I’m getting at? If you leave here now, and don’t let me finish the work I started, you’ll be in such a mess! Your head is now full of all these mental images … like a nest full of poisonous snakes … and you want to just run off before I’ve had a chance to defang them. This is, honestly, the absolute worst time you could chicken out on this process. If I had even a few more minutes, I could give you some tools to cope with the inevitable intrusive thoughts … but no – you’re too short-sighted and butthurt over seeing me kissing your wife. Which, I shouldn’t need to remind you, I was only doing in order to help you both have a good wedding night.”

He seemed genuinely offended, and I felt panic rising within me. What if he was right? What if Sophia and I were about to throw away our future happiness together by calling a premature halt to Mitchell’s therapy process? I looked at Sophia, who was looking at me, her expression anxious.

I swallowed. “I … I’m a little nervous, Darling,” I said. “I really want us both to get out of here, but … I’m afraid he might be right. I don’t want to lose you just because I couldn’t endure the most uncomfortable parts of Mitchell’s therapy process.”

Sophia put her chin on her knees. “I want to get out of here too,” she said. “But I’m also worried about whether this is the worst time to leave. I want a nice wedding night, and a happy marriage … and I’m not sure whether either of those is even possible now. I’m worried that maybe Mitchell might be our only hope at this point. He might not be … but what if he is?”

I nodded. “That’s my fear,” I agreed. I sighed wretchedly. “Maybe it would help, Mitchell, if you explain what’s next in this process of yours. If we can see an end in sight, that might make it easier to endure.”

“Certainly,” said Mitchell. “Look, it’s ten past three right now. Depending on how quickly you can get yourself calm and comfortable with the concept of me being intimate with Sophia, I anticipate we’ll get back to the poop stuff within half an hour. At that point you should discover that your brain is a little more capable of handling the disgust than it was before, and continued exposure will further reinforce that. By, oh, five o’clock, I guess, you should find yourself able to be calm and casual both around Sophia’s poop, and also while watching me kiss and fondle her. We’ll finish with some exercises designed to make sure the lessons have properly taken hold, and by five-thirtyish, I’m hoping, you’ll be able to go off and have dinner together. Later, you should find you can be intimate with each other without having the specter of panty-pooping thwarting your arousal. You may even be able to casually joke about it, without it ruining the mood.”

That sounded pretty good to me. “Well, I’m not thrilled about this process taking another two hours,” I said, “but at least now I feel like there’s an end in sight, and a roadmap to that end. Darling, what do you think?”

Sophia looked apprehensive. “I … I guess I feel the same way,” she said. “I want this to be over … but I think maybe we should see it through properly…”

I sighed. “Okay,” I said. “Go on then, Mitchell. What’s next?”

“Perspective,” said Mitchell. “There’s a learning principle – I don’t know what it’s called, but it applies extremely widely. The broad thrust of it is that you only get better at something by challenging yourself. Let’s take sports. If your team is the best in your league, it’s not going to get any better by playing other teams in that league. You need to play against teams in the league above – then your team will improve. Of course that applies individually too. There’s an old saying, ‘If you’re the smartest person in the room, you’re in the wrong room.’ You’ve got to surround yourself with people smarter than you if you want to get smarter yourself. You need to get out of your comfort zone and push your boundaries…”

“Mitchell, I’ve been out of my comfort zone all afternoon,” I pointed out.

“Yes,” he agreed, “okay, but let’s imagine your comfort zone as a series of concentric circles. The one in the very centre, the smallest one, Zone A … that’s where you spend most of your time. Occasionally you venture into Zone B, but it’s not very pleasant there so you quickly return to Zone A. Now what I’m doing is trying to get you comfortable in Zone F … and that’s not an easy challenge. But my strategy here is to expose you to Zones G and H, for as long as you can tolerate them, so that when you get back to Zone F, it won’t seem so bad. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so,” I said, scratching my head.

“Clearly,” Mitchell continued, “you were extremely bothered by me getting intimate with Sophia, even though you knew it was just part of the exercise. So we’ve got to take a few minutes to work on that – to really stretch that elastic band until it won’t return to its original shape.”

“Elastic bands don’t do that, though,” I said, puzzled. “They always return to their original shape, or they snap. That’s kind of their thing.”

“All right, a metal spring then,” said Mitchell patiently. “I forgot I was talking to a scientist. Your comfort zone is like a metal spring that we have to stretch until it won’t go back to being small and compact.”

“I will accept that analogy,” I said.

“So, I’m going to rub my cock on Sophia’s pussy,” said Mitchell, “in a very intimate way … and you’re going to watch and record it. When you can do that comfortably and calmly, without feeling any rage or stress, then, I figure, you’ll pretty much be able to handle anything. Including the poop, although there’s an ick factor there that will need to be addressed in a slightly different way…”

“I’m not happy about this idea!” I said anxiously.

“Neither am I!” said Sophia.

But Mitchell was already lubing up his erection with baby oil. “Of course you’re not,” he said. “If you were, we wouldn’t need to do it. But this will be the best and fastest route to our objective, I assure you. Lie back, Sophia. We’re going to do this in a few different positions, but this’ll be a good one to start with.”

Sophia looked worried, understandably, but I gave her a reassuring nod, and she lay back on the bed. Mitchell pulled her knees apart, and spread her thighs wide, exposing her pussy and the moist entrance to her vagina. Mitchell pressed his slippery palm and fingers against her vulva, and gave it a gentle massage. When his middle finger slid inside her, she gasped and I growled, but I managed to keep my anger in check.

“Okay,” said Mitchell, kneeling in front of her with his knees apart and tucked beneath her raised thighs. He shuffled closer to her, then pressed the tip of his rigid cock between her labia. As I watched with my whole body tensed, not even breathing, he began slowly rubbing it up and down her well-oiled groove, her pussy and his cock both glistening in the light from his bedside table lamp.

“How are you both doing?” Mitchell asked.

Sophia, staring up at the ceiling while clutching handfuls of the bedspread, gasped, “Okay!”

I finally breathed, and managed to mutter, “So far so good. This is a bit of a struggle though, I have to say!”

“Of course it is,” Mitchell acknowledged. “But you’re both doing very well.” He slid the head of his cock downward, until it reached Sophia’s vagina opening. Since he was pressing quite firmly, her soft flesh yielded, and her hole opened up slightly, only closing again once he had moved on to her perineum. He stopped just before her anus, then moved up again, once more slightly opening up her vagina as he passed over it. I found myself feeling relieved as he moved on up toward her clitoris.

That struck me as odd – that I was experiencing a feeling of relief while Sophia’s ex was rubbing his cock between her labia. This seemed to be good evidence for the efficacy of Mitchell’s methodology for expanding my comfort zone. As he slid the head of his cock down to Sophia’s vaginal opening again, I clenched my teeth, but said nothing.

Mitchell slowly eased the tip of his erection back and forth over the dark entrance to Sophia’s vagina. He seemed to be deliberately teasing me, forcing that sweet little hole to enlarge with each pass, and pressing his cock’s bulbous head against it with uncomfortable firmness. Sophia’s eyes were now clenched shut, her expression a grimace. I knew she must be having a worse time than I; she was feeling what I was seeing.

Mitchell stopped with the head of his cock lodged in the little well of Sophia’s vaginal opening. “How are you feeling now, Clem?”

“A little stressed!” I confessed, my eyes glued to the tip of his gleaming member.

“I’m sure,” said Mitchell, nodding. Holding his shaft, he began making small circles around the moist little opening, causing the soft flesh surrounding it to bulge and subside as he pushed against it, then passed over it. If I were watching a porn movie, this would no doubt be highly erotic … but this was my wife, and it was very hard to watch.

“How about you, Sophia?” asked Mitchell, returning the tip of his penis to her vaginal entrance, and pressing firmly against it. The orifice began to dilate.

“Ahhh … stressed too!” gasped Sophia. “Please be careful there!”

“I know what I’m doing,” Mitchell assured her. The head of his cock began to sink inward.

“Hey hey hey!” I said, alarmed. “What are you doing?”

“What I said I would do,” said Mitchell. “Testing the boundaries of your comfort zone. Expanding those boundaries. Enabling you to get comfortable with things you never thought you could be comfortable with.” He slid the tip of his cock back up the moist valley between her labia. “I know it’s tough to watch, Clem, but you’re really doing very well. You both are.”

“Thank you,” I said gruffly. “I’m just worried about how far you’re going to take this. You’d better not be planning to shove your cock all the way in!”

“Dude, I’m not going to rape your wife!” said Mitchell, sounding shocked. “What do you take me for?”

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologised. “It’s just … it’s hard for my mind not to go there, when I see your cock pushing at her opening like it was.”

Mitchell slid back down to Sophia’s vagina, and pressed against it again. “Like this?” he inquired.

Her opening dilated, and the head of his cock began to sink slowly inside. “Yes!” I said hurriedly. “Like that! Stop pushing – it’s going in!”

“Only a little,” said Mitchell, stopping with maybe one third of the head of his cock buried inside my wife. “This isn’t enough to count as penetration, Clem. I haven’t taken Sophia’s virginity. I’m no further in than if I were pressing my cock against her buttock, forming a temporary indentation in her skin. The point is, try to get comfortable with seeing this. If you can accomplish that, you’ll be doing very well indeed.” He sat back on his heels, his cock retreating to some distance from Sophia’s pussy. “How did you find that, Sophia?”

“Scary!” said Sophia.

Mitchell chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure it was,” he said. “Anyway, time to try a different position. Can you turn over please, Sophia? On your knees and elbows, ass in the air. And spread your knees apart.”

“Oh … I never took photos!” I said suddenly.

“Oh yeah!” said Mitchell, snapping his fingers. “Damn. Well, no problem, just make sure you get some this time.”

Sophia was now in position, and Mitchell knelt up behind her. Shuffling forward, he began rubbing the head of his cock against her pussy, like before. This time, however, he spent only a little time between her labia before sliding up to her vaginal opening. Pressing the engorged head of his erection against it, he sighed with pleasure as the moist orifice dilated to accommodate his intruding member. I felt a rising sense of panic as half of the head disappeared. “Whoa!” I said anxiously, and Sophia squealed.

“I’m in no further than before,” said Mitchell. “It just looks that way because Sophia’s oriented the other way, relative to my cock. If you look at it from below, you’ll see I’m barely in at all.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said heavily. I had no desire to tuck my head down beneath his cock and balls to see what was going on from below.

Mitchell withdrew about half an inch, then thrust forward gently, beginning a low-amplitude rocking motion that had Sophia’s vagina opening up and closing again about once every two seconds. I stared, transfixed, my fists clenched by my sides.

“Try to relax, Clem,” Mitchell advised me. “You’re doing great, but remember to stay on task.”

I forced myself to unclench my fists, and nodded. “Okay,” I said uncomfortably. It seemed to me that with each little thrust, Mitchell’s cock was disappearing further and further inside Sophia, but if so it was in such tiny increments that it was hard to tell if I was imagining it.

“Great job, both of you,” said Mitchell. “Time for another change of position. This time I’m going to lie on my back, Sophia, and you’re going to lower yourself on to my cock. I figure you’ll feel less stressed and vulnerable if you’re in control, and we can still achieve our goals that way.”

“That sounds better,” I said, relieved. Mitchell had come to a halt with barely a third of the head of his cock still outside Sophia … but now he pulled it out, causing her vagina to quickly close up.

Sophia got up, and as Mitchell took her place, lying on his back with his erection elevated at a roughly forty-five-degree angle, like the gnomon on a hairy pink sundial. He grabbed hold of it and pointed it upward, as Sophia straddled him on her knees.

“Good,” said Mitchell, “now lower yourself down.”

As I watched apprehensively, crouching so that I could see what was going on, Sophia settled her bottom down while Mitchell guided his cock to her vaginal entrance. She stopped as soon as she felt its tip touch her, and held herself awkwardly in this position, her hands planted on the bedspread either side of her.

“A little lower,” Mitchell instructed her, “and lean back a bit, so Clem has a better view.”

“Any lower and it’ll go up inside me!” said Sophia nervously, trying to lean back and brace herself with her hands without letting herself sink any lower.

“Only the tip,” said Mitchell, “and then it’ll stay in place so I don’t have to keep holding it. You felt how far it went in a moment ago; just let it go in that far again.”

“Ugh,” said Sophia, grimacing. “All right.”

I watched anxiously as Sophia settled down further on to Mitchell’s cock, its head forcing her open and slowly sinking inside her. When half of the bulbous part was buried, Sophia stopped.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” said Mitchell. “You’re both doing great. Well done, Clem, for not freaking out at this. And well done Sophia. Lower yourself just a little more, though, to make sure I don’t pop out of you by accident.”

Looking rather unhappy, Sophia settled down a little further, and I gasped as the head of Mitchell’s cock sank even deeper into my wife, until it was fully buried inside her. “That’s too far!” I said urgently.

“It’s fine!” said Mitchell quickly. “Hold that position, Sophia – that’s perfect. Clem, you were doing so well! Breathe, dude. Calm yourself. You can handle this, like you’ve handled everything else.”

“But … you’re inside my wife!” I said plaintively.

“Only a little bit,” said Mitchell firmly. “Not enough to count. Are you taking photos?”

“Oh … no,” I said morosely. I held up my phone, and took a photo of Mitchell’s cock, sticking up into my wife’s vagina. “Can she get off you now, please?”

“Absolutely,” said Mitchell, and to my great relief, Sophia quickly pushed herself up and off his cock. “Time for another position. Lie on your side, Sophia, with your back against me.”

She did so, and I watched in nervous anticipation as Mitchell turned toward her, reaching down and tucking his left hand beneath her left knee. He pulled it upward, until her knee joint was linked with his elbow joint. This had the effect of pulling Sophia’s left thigh very high, lewdly displaying her pussy and vagina, while leaving his hand free to fondle her left breast … which he began to do.

“Good,” said Mitchell. “Now, Clem, I have a task for you which may be your biggest challenge yet. Take hold of my cock, please, and guide it into your wife’s vagina.”

“I’m not doing that!” I protested indignantly.

“Sophia did it,” Mitchell pointed out. “I’m guessing that was pretty hard for her to do. Are you telling me you’re happy for her to do the hard part while you just stand by and watch?”

“She didn’t, though!” I said. “She just … lowered herself. You were holding it!”

“She guided herself on to it,” said Mitchell. “It’s the same thing, really. And she did touch it before, remember – when she was putting it in her mouth.”

“That’s … different!” I said desperately. “She’s a woman, and you’re a man. It’s more natural…”

“Ah, so you’re homophobic?” Mitchell inquired. “Wow – I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I am not!” I objected. “I’m as open-minded and accepting of other people’s lifestyle choices as anyone.”

“Then prove it!” said Mitchell. “Show us you’re not a bigot, and moreover that you’re supportive of your wife, by taking hold of my cock and guiding it into her.”

“Ugh!” I exclaimed. The truth was that I was highly squeamish about touching another man’s cock, but I did not want Sophia to see me wimping out. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

I put my phone down, leaned on the bed with my left hand, and reached out to take hold of Mitchell’s erection with my right. I pointed it at Sophia’s pussy, and pressed it down so that its head nestled into the entrance of her vagina. At this point it was slightly bent, so I pushed against the shaft, straightening it so that the head sank a little inside her.

“I’m proud of you, Clem,” said Mitchell. “Not many men would have the guts to do that.”

“Yeah, well, thanks I guess,” I muttered, wiping my hand on my jeans. I picked up my phone.

Mitchell gave Sophia’s breast a squeeze, and gently pinched her nipple. “Since your husband is doing so well, Honey, let’s hit him with a combination. My cock in your vagina, while we French-kiss again.”

Sophia had to turn her head towards him, but he met her halfway by leaning over her. As they kissed, their mouths opening and their tongues meeting, I prepared to take photos … and noticed with horror that Mitchell’s cock had sunk even deeper inside Sophia’s vagina. Fully half of it was buried, and Mitchell was slowly undulating his hips, working his cock even deeper with each thrust.

“Stop, stop!” I said in a panic. “Mitchell, your cock … it’s halfway in!”

Mitchell stopped kissing Sophia. “Oh,” he said. “Well, once the head’s in, a little more shaft won’t make a difference. The widest part’s already inside her, and that’s the part that really matters.”

“But, but…” I said desperately, “I was supposed to be the one to do this! I was supposed to be taking Sophia’s virginity!”

“With how easily it went in,” Mitchell mused, “it honestly didn’t feel like I was taking her virginity. Sophia, have you really never had sex before?”

“I really haven’t!” Sophia insisted. “But I … I did use a toy once. A dildo – it was my friend’s. I was curious, and tried it.”

“Ah,” said Mitchell. “So that’s what broke your hymen. But you were still a virgin! Until now, I guess. Welcome to the ex-virgins club.”

“But Mitchell!” I cried in anguish. “Our wedding night!”

“Your wedding night won’t be any different on account of this,” said Mitchell firmly. “It won’t be any less special. It’ll be your first time together, and that’s what will make it magical. Would you really consider Sophia less valuable if she’d had sex before meeting you?”

“No, of course not,” I said defensively. “The decision to wait was really for Sophia’s benefit, because of her upbringing. I wouldn’t have valued Sophia any less if she weren’t a virgin, and I don’t value her any less now, though I really wish she didn’t have your cock inside her!”

“I do too!” said Sophia in a tragic voice. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m sorry, Clem – I really wanted to be a virgin for you!”

“It can’t be helped,” said Mitchell gently, kissing her on the lips. “You have every right to be upset, and I’d encourage you to have a good cry about it later. But for right now, let’s focus on the fact that Clem’s being really wonderful, and coping surprisingly well with our intimacy. I’d say we’re almost ready to get back to the poop stuff … don’t you think?”

“Ugh,” I said, my stomach lurching. “I’ve been dreading that…”

Mitchell chuckled. “Fine, we’ll give it a few more minutes,” he said. “In the meantime, let’s go back to the missionary position. Clem, you forgot to take photos last time, so this is your chance. You could take some video as well if you like. In fact, yes, you definitely should.”

“All right,” I said reluctantly. As much as I wanted to delay a return to the ‘poop stuff’, I had little enthusiasm for continuing with the current phase of my therapy. Sophia’s ex had just taken her virginity, and in doing so, robbed me of the opportunity to do that myself. Though he denied it, I felt like he had ruined our wedding night.

Mitchell pulled out of Sophia, then, as she rolled on to her back, he climbed on top of her and settled down between her spread thighs. Reaching down, he guided his cock into her vagina, and uttered a satisfied groan. “Oh god, yes, that feels so good…”

“I can’t really see what’s going on,” I said, though I was not sure I really wanted to.

“Oh, sorry,” said Mitchell, leaning to his right a little while pushing Sophia’s right knee up next to her chest. “Is that better?”

I now had a good view of his cock half-buried in Sophia’s vagina. “I guess so,” I said, switching to video mode.

“Come on, Sophia,” said Mitchell, “let’s have a good kiss. Clem, I’ll slide in and out a bit, so you have some action for your video.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to hold still…?” I said, concerned. “I mean, that’s kind of like having actual sex…”

Mitchell was already kissing Sophia, and gently thrusting with his loins. His cock slid in and out of Sophia’s vagina, going deeper and deeper. “Mitchell!” I exclaimed. “You’re practically balls-deep!”

Mitchell broke off from the kiss. “Sorry Clem,” he said, “it’s hard to concentrate on how deep I am when I’m kissing Sophia. But anyway, does it really matter? Does it really make a difference at this point?” He pushed his cock all the way in. “There, I’m fully inside your wife. Did that change anything? No. But it’s a testament to your progress this afternoon, that you’re able to keep your rage in check while seeing this. If you can endure this for a couple more minutes, I’d say we’re ready to move on. Keep filming; it’ll do you good to review this again later.”

I groaned unhappily. I had hoped to somehow prevent him from going all the way in, but that hope was now dashed, and there was nothing I could do except keep recording.

Mitchell resumed kissing Sophia, and thrusting his cock in and out of her vagina, while I kept my phone aimed at the action. I felt very glum. This medicine was hopefully going to rescue our wedding night, but it was a bitter pill to swallow.

The thrusting intensified, and I clutched my stomach with my free hand as I watched Mitchell’s cock slamming forcefully into Sophia’s vagina. She was uttering muffled squeals, or moans maybe? If she was enjoying this, I could not really blame her; she must be receiving some pretty intense stimulation. But then it finally sank in that Mitchell was, in fact, fucking my wife right in front of me, and if he continued…

“Hey, stop that!” I protested. “Mitchell, get your cock out of Sophia! You can’t just fuck her in front of me like this!”

But Mitchell suddenly groaned, breaking the kiss and closing his eyes, a look of rapture on his face. His pelvis pressed hard against Sophia’s for several seconds, then he pulled back and thrust hard again, groaning with ecstasy.

“Oh my God, did you cum inside me, Mitchell?” Sophia demanded frantically, pushing against his shoulders with her hands.

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, horrified. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

Mitchell thrust again, his expression still rapturous. “Oh wow…” he gasped. “I’m still ejaculating! I guess I’ve been holding it in so long…”

“Mitchell, this isn’t a safe day!” Sophia cried in despair. “You’re going to get me pregnant!”

“Oh, that would be so cool!” said Mitchell, thrusting again. “To not only take your virginity at long last, but also to knock you up? Wow! Dream come true!”

Now I was angry. My fists clenched, and I prepared for the fight of my life. “Mitchell!” I barked. “You get off my wife right now!”

He turned to look at me, and shook his head as if coming to his senses. “Shit,” he said. “Guys, I’m so sorry. I guess I got lost in the moment. When you’re fucking a beautiful woman, and she tells you you may have got her pregnant … that’s a big deal, you know? For me it’s wonderful. But I was forgetting that for you two, it’s a big problem. And for that I’m truly sorry.”

“Thank you!” I said. “I still need you to get off Sophia though, please!”

“Clem, the deed is done,” said Mitchell gravely. “Pulling out now won’t change that. I will, however, do so … on one condition.”

“You’re in no position to dictate terms!” I exploded. “Get off Sophia now, or I’ll pound you into next week!”

“It’s a good condition,” Mitchell promised. “The condition is that you and Sophia both promise each other that neither of you will blame the other for what just happened.”

“I don’t blame Sophia!” I shot back. “I blame you!”

Mitchell nodded. “Which is easy to do, since I’m here and still buried in your wife,” he said. “But later, when it’s just the two of you, and you don’t have me around to vent your anger at, there will be a huge temptation to turn on each other. You may not believe that now, but I guarantee it’ll happen. Clem, you’ll be asking Sophia, ‘Why didn’t you say anything when he started thrusting?’ or ‘Why didn’t you push him away?’ And Sophia, you’ll be saying, ‘Why didn’t YOU do something – like pull him off me – instead of just standing there filming?’ And all the ways either of you could have prevented this will come charging into your heads, and you’ll say things you’ll regret, and tonight will end up being miserable for both of you.”

“That won’t happen,” I said stubbornly. “We love each other. I would never say anything mean or hurtful to Sophia.”

“You say that now,” said Mitchell, “and I’m sure you mean it. But I fear you underestimate the significance of this situation, and the psychological effects it’ll have on you both. When I’m out of the way, this will continue to impact you and your marriage, and it will erode your relationship. And I don’t want that. So please, promise me – both of you – that you’ll blame only me, and be kind to each other.”

“I can do that,” I conceded grimly. “I promise.”

“I promise too,” said Sophia quietly.

“Good,” said Mitchell. “Now, this little mishap aside, I think this exercise has gone very well. Clem, I’m proud of how well you handled me kissing Sophia and penetrating her with my cock. You really only objected when I was fucking her brains out, and clearly that was a justifiable reaction. And Sophia, you’ve played your part admirably; your willingness to endure even the intrusion of my cock into your vagina is a testament to how much you’re prepared to sacrifice for the sake of your marriage. My hat is off to both of you.”

“Thank you,” I said, “I appreciate that. But I’d still like you to pull your cock out of my wife, and get off her please!”

“Of course, of course,” said Mitchell. “I’m sure you’re eager to get back to the poop therapy, conclude this exercise, go out together for a Mitchell-free dinner, and then enjoy your wedding night.”

“Well I feel like you’ve ruined that,” I grumbled.

“Bullshit!” said Mitchell, with surprising vehemence. “Don’t even think that, Clem! There’s absolutely no reason the two of you shouldn’t have a wonderful night together, and I’m determined to make that happen – even if I have to be there myself, to oversee it!”

“That won’t be necessary!” I said quickly.

“Won’t it?” Mitchell inquired. “Well, I hope not. But you have me a little worried. Let’s see how things go with the poop therapy, shall we? And don’t even try to get out of that, Clem; you know perfectly well you’re still going to be haunted by those mental images. But we’ll fix that; hopefully within the next hour or so.”

“But what about the fact that you came inside me?” asked Sophia anxiously.

“A good question,” Mitchell acknowledged. “I know you have some Catholic beliefs, so I don’t want to suggest anything that you might find offensive…”

“Abortion is out of the question,” said Sophia firmly.

Mitchell nodded. “Okay,” he said. “What about Plan B? I think they call it the ‘morning-after pill’ here.”

“I … I guess so,” said Sophia reluctantly. “I don’t know much about that, to be honest, but I know my family disapproves of it.”

“Well there are different types,” said Mitchell, “but most of them work by delaying ovulation. Which is great if you haven’t yet ovulated, but not so much if you have. Some of them prevent fertilisation. None of them are guaranteed to work, but they certainly give you a better chance of avoiding pregnancy than doing nothing at all. Some of them are effective if used within three days or having unprotected sex; for others I think it’s five days. Of course, the sooner you take them, the more effective they’re likely to be.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff?” I inquired, bemused.

Mitchell chuckled. “A former girlfriend and I had a bit of a scare when the condom broke,” he explained. “Needless to say, we did some quick but thorough research on our options. In the end, she decided she didn’t want to mess with her hormones by taking a pill. I told her she was crazy, but she insisted on ‘leaving it up to God’. She cited some statistics showing how unlikely it is for a single instance of unprotected sex to result in pregnancy. I let it go; it was her decision after all. Her body and all that. Anyway she turned out to be right; she didn’t get pregnant.”

“What are those statistics?” Sophia inquired.

“Oh, I think it’s about eight percent,” said Mitchell. “Eight percent of women who have unprotected sex in the middle of their cycles will get pregnant. Something like that. Of course, the chances increase the more you do it.”

“Hmm,” said Sophia thoughtfully.

“Anyway!” said Mitchell, pulling out his wilted cock and climbing off her. “You’ve got some time to think about it. No need to jump to a hasty decision. For now, let’s get you back into those poop-filled panties.”

“Ugh,” said Sophia with a grimace. “It’ll be all cold now.”

“It’ll soon warm up again,” said Mitchell cheerfully. “The part next to your skin will, anyway.”

This did not seem of much comfort to Sophia, who looked rather downcast as she climbed off the bed and walked to the bathroom. I suspected, however, that the unpleasant notion of having to put her messy panties back on was weighing less heavily on her mind than the semen of her asshole ex-boyfriend, which was currently plastering her cervix.

“How are you holding up, Clem?” Mitchell asked. “You ready for some poop action?”

“Not really!” I replied. “But I’ll do what has to be done.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said.

Sophia reappeared, wearing her bulging panties again. I grimaced, and she hung her head. “Sorry,” she said.

“Now don’t you apologise, Sophia!” said Mitchell firmly. “And Clem, don’t you shame your wife for indulging her fetish!”

“Your fetish!” I retorted.

“Whatever,” he said. “You didn’t see her, back in the day. But as we’ve established, panty-pooping is a big part of her past sexual life, and as such, a significant part of who she is today. And there’s no call to be shaming her for it. I thought you were going to be supportive, Clem. Don’t tell me we’ve gone back to square one?”

The idea of going back to the beginning was unbearable. “No no, of course not,” I said quickly. “Sorry, I’d just gotten used to seeing Sophia clean again, and my instinctive reaction kicked in. Don’t worry, I’ll be supportive.”

“Hmm,” said Mitchell. “If we go out in public again with her messy panties showing, will you be proud of her, or ashamed of her?”

My stomach cramped at the thought. “Proud,” I said. “Of course. I would never be ashamed of Sophia.”

“Thank you darling, but I’ll be feeling quite ashamed of myself!” Sophia confessed.

“You shouldn’t, though,” said Mitchell. “You’ve nothing to apologise to society for. You should go out there with your head held high. And if you have a supportive husband by your side, that will make it easier.”

“Will he be by my side, though?” Sophia inquired. “Or ten steps behind me, taking photos of my panties?”

“A fair point,” Mitchell conceded. “Fine. This time I’ll be the photographer, and Clem can hold your hand. But since the idea here is for him to get comfortable with your poop, you’ll need to go the extra mile in frequently showing it off to him. Simply walking by your side, it’ll be too easy for him to ignore the fact that your panties are full of poop.”

“Okay,” said Sophia uneasily.

“All right,” said Mitchell, “put your top and skirt back on, and let’s head out. Uh, right after I’ve been to the bathroom, anyway.”

I was not happy about venturing outside again with Sophia’s bulging panties so vulgarly on display, but I steeled myself, and told myself I was going to be supportive, no matter what. I was only too aware that if I failed at this task, Mitchell would have an excuse to prolong this ‘treatment’ through dinner and into the evening. I wanted to pass with flying colours, so that we could put a stop to this madness.

“Can we avoid the high street at least?” I asked, as we stepped through the front entrance. “Not because I’m not proud of Sophia, but because I don’t think my, uh, ‘therapy’ is going to be best served from the inside of a jail cell.”

“Sure,” said Mitchell. “That’s fine.”

For a moment I was surprised by his ready capitulation, but then I decided he had probably been thinking along similar lines himself.

We took a road that led us along the edge of a small housing estate, where a couple of rough-looking men with bald heads and tattooed arms stood in our way. They were talking earnestly to one another, but as we approached them and they noticed us, they fell silent and began grinning at Sophia.

“This was a mistake,” I muttered. “We need to turn back!”

“Stay calm, Clem,” said Mitchell in a low voice. “These two don’t look likely to call the cops on us.”

“I’m more worried about them beating us up and molesting Sophia!” I hissed.

“Why would you assume they’re criminals?” said Mitchell. “I’m sure they’re perfectly safe. Sophia, I think now would be a good time to display your poop for Clem – and give these two guys a little show at the same time.”

“A good time?” I echoed. “This is the worst time!”

“Don’t be a wuss, Clem,” he admonished me. “Go on, Sophia. It the two of you chicken out now, I’m not sure we’ll be able to wrap this up before dinner.”

I groaned. We were now about twenty feet from the two men. Abruptly Sophia stopped, turned on her heel, and bent over, putting her hands on her knees. She was not even making a pretence of tying her shoes or extracting a stone – instead she wiggled her hips, so that her bulging panties wobbled vigorously back and forth. I stopped and turned to stare at the sight in horror. “What are you doing, Sophia??” I whispered urgently.

“She’s playing her part well,” replied Mitchell. “Which is more than I can say for you, Clem! Oh dear.”

I glanced back at the two bald men, who were now casually approaching us. “Stand up, Sophia!” I said frantically.

One of the men was eyeing Sophia’s bulging panties with a lustful, predatory look; the other just looked rather astonished. As Sophia straightened up and turned to face them, her cheeks crimson with embarrassment, the astonished man said, “All right hen, what’s up wi’ ye? Izzat really a jobbie in there?”

“I’m so sorry,” I felt obliged to say. “I’m afraid my wife had a bit of an accident and we haven’t had a chance to find a toilet yet.”

“She looks like she’s enjoying it,” said the lustful man, now grinning at Sophia’s chest. “You’re a naughty little girl, aren’t you?” His accent was less thick than his friend’s.

Sophia clutched my arm.

“Yeah, it’s an ‘accident’ that keeps happening,” said Mitchell with a chuckle. “We’re beginning to think she’s doing it on purpose!”

“You’re Americans, eh?” said the lustful man.

“Yes!” said Mitchell. “My name’s Mitchell, and these are my friends Sophia and Clem.”

“Good to meet you,” said the lustful man. “I’m Gavin, and this is Jackie.” He glanced down at Sophia’s legs. “I Iike your skirt, Sophia.”

“A poor choice, perhaps!” said Mitchell. “It’s a little too short to cover her poopy panties. Show them, Sophia.”

Sophia hesitated, then she let go of my arm and turned around. Both Scotsmen stared at her bulging panties, sagging into view beneath her skirt.

“Very sexy!” said Gavin.

His friend looked at him oddly. “Ye inta jobbies, then, Gav?”

“I’m inta pretty girls, Jackie,” Gavin replied. “And Sophia’s a sweetheart. Her wee fetish is … interesting, I’d say.”

“I prefer the view from the front,” said Jackie, staring unabashedly at Sophia’s chest. “No bra today, hen?”

I felt I ought to jump in, before Mitchell dominated the discourse with his lewd comments about my wife. “She was in a bit of a hurry getting dressed,” I explained quickly. “Anyway it’s nice to meet you both, but we really should be getting back to the hotel so she can clean herself up.”

“Och, no need to rush off,” said Gavin, smiling. “We’re nice lads. We’re no gwinta make trouble for ye.”

“I’m sure you’re not,” said Mitchell. “And we definitely don’t want to be rude, do we Clem?” He looked pointedly at me. “Clem here is a little embarrassed about Sophia’s visible panties, but I told him I didn’t think it was likely you’d call the police on us.”

“Call the police?” said Gavin in amusement. “Nobody’ll do that, Clem, dinnae worry. I’m jist a wee bit stunned that such a big jobbie can come from such a wee lass.”

“It’s an eye-opener,” Mitchell agreed. “Not something you see every day, that’s for sure. And I appreciate the two of you being so cool about it. Uh … actually, would you mind … since this is a bit of an adventure, you know … would you mind if I take a photo? Of the two of you, with Sophia and Clem? Just so I have a little memento of the occasion, you know?”

Gavin grinned. “Sure!” he said. “Can I take a photo too?”

“Absolutely,” said Mitchell. “Uh, if Sophia agrees, of course – I don’t want to speak for her…”

“It hasn’t stopped you so far,” I muttered under my breath.

“I guess it’s fine,” said Sophia uncomfortably. I was sure she did not really want to appear in a photo shoot with two strange men, and was simply agreeing in order to avoid any unpleasantness.

I put my arm around Sophia and posed stiffly, a forced smile on my face, while the two Scotsmen stood together on Sophia’s other side.

“That’s good, that’s good,” said Mitchell, taking a photo. “But I was really hoping for Sophia to show off her poop a little more, and maybe have it be a little more interactive … um, how about Clem and Jackie … can you lift her up between you, holding her legs up and spreading them?”

“Aye, sure!” said Jackie. “Put your arm around my shoulders, hen.”

Sophia put her arms around Jackie’s shoulders and mine, and then she raised her right leg. Jackie caught it and lifted it up, and I then caught and lifted her left leg.

“That’s great!” said Mitchell, taking a photo. “Hmm, let’s have Gavin more involved though. Gavin, can you crouch down beneath Sophia, and kinda look up in astonishment, pointing at her poop?”

Gavin laughed. “Sounds like a fun photo!” he said, and he crouched down beneath Sophia.

“Can you lift Sophia a little higher?” Mitchell asked me and Jackie. “Give Gavin a bit more room beneath her?”

We could, and did.

“Excellent!” said Mitchell, taking a couple more photos. “Gavin, if it wouldn’t gross you out too much, can you, like, cradle Sophia’s panty-bulge in your hand? Like you’re trying to guess its weight or something?”

“Huh, okay, I suppose I can always wash it after,” said Gavin, with only a little reluctance.

“Och Gav, naw, tha’s mingin’!” said Jackie, shocked.

Mitchell chuckled. “That’s it, great.” He took another photo. “Now, Gavin, if you could pull Sophia’s panties to one side, so I can see her poop properly…”

I was afraid of where this was going. “My arm’s getting tired, Mitchell,” I said sharply. “I can’t hold this pose much longer.”

“Just a few more seconds,” Mitchell said, taking another photo. “Outstanding! Thanks Gavin, that was great.”

I glanced down, but Sophia’s skirt was obscuring my view of her panties. My guess, however, was that Gavin had probably exposed my wife’s pussy. “I’m putting her down now,” I announced firmly, and as I lowered Sophia’s foot to the ground, Jackie followed suit.

“My turn now,” said Gavin, pulling out his own phone. “Jackie, and … what was your name again?”

“Clem,” I said.

“Clem – can you lift her up again?” Gavin requested.

I grimaced. “My arm’s tired!” I said.

“We can swap sides if you like,” Jackie suggested.

I sighed, then nodded. “Fine,” I muttered. My left arm would likely tire more quickly than my right, but I would probably last for a couple of photos, at least.

Jackie and I lifted Sophia again, and this time it was Mitchell who got beneath her. Gavin took a couple of photos, then he said, “Mitchell, can you, uh, pull her knickers to the side?” I could not see what was going on exactly, but Gavin’s sudden grin told me he could probably now see her pussy. “Aye, that’s magic.”

Then Sophia gasped, and Gavin laughed. “Even better!” he said.

Jackie, sounding slightly irritated, now said, “You know, I wouldna mind taking some photos myself. Ah jist dinnae want shite in ‘em!”

“I’m sure we can accommodate that,” said Mitchell. “Sophia can take her panties off. She can wipe herself clean … um … she’ll need a bathroom though. Perhaps we could go back to the hotel?”

“Ma house is right there,” said Jackie, pointing to his left. She can clean up there.”

“Sounds good!” said Mitchell.

I quickly put Sophia’s leg down, obliging Jackie to do the same. “Mitchell, can I have a word with you?” I said sharply.

He nodded, and I took him aside. “What’s up?” he asked.

“What’s up?” I echoed. “Mitchell … what are you doing? Where’s this going? Because I’m starting to worry that you’re going to get Sophia naked in front of these guys!”

“This is all part of your therapy, Clem,” he replied smoothly. “I didn’t plan it this way, but it’s fortuitous. You see … I feel kinda bad that I took Sophia’s virginity in front of you. I imagine that’s a tough pill to swallow.”

“Well yeah!” I agreed.

“You’ve got to be wondering, after that,” Mitchell went on, “what if she liked it? What if her first experience with you doesn’t measure up? What if, as unlikely as it might seem, she and I just established a connection which is going to persist throughout your marriage?”

My jaw dropped in dismay. I had not been thinking along these lines … until now. “But … but how does a photo shoot with these two Scottish guys help with that?” I demanded.

“Simple!” said Mitchell, as if I were being inexcusably dense. “It’ll take Sophia’s focus off me. If I’m always the one kissing her and rubbing her pussy and so on, while you take photos, there’s a good possibility she’ll be fixating on me when she’s with you. But if we throw in two new guys, then I just become one of several ‘other men’ in her mind. Nothing special, and certainly nothing to fixate upon.”

“But I don’t want these guys rubbing her pussy and whatever else!” I hissed.

“Clem, this’ll work,” Mitchell assured me. “I hate to tell you this, but Sophia enjoyed having sex with me. You don’t want her dwelling on that, do you? To the point where, it her first time with you isn’t as good, she wants to come back to me for more?”

“No, of course not,” I said.

“Then we have to dilute that memory,” said Mitchell, “and quickly, before you and she go to bed together. Her first time with you needs to be special, right? The consequences of a disappointing wedding night don’t bear thinking about.”

“Okay…” I said, nodding.

“So let her have a couple of rather uncomfortable, unsatisfactory experiences with these guys, and her first time with you will seem wholesome and beautiful by comparison, even if it’s not perfect. And by then her memory of me taking her virginity will have faded into the background, getting lumped in with these two as sexual encounters she’d rather forget.”

“I don’t want her having sex with them!” I said, in a slightly panicked voice.

“It needn’t come to that,” said Mitchell. “We just want her to have a bit of intimacy with them. There doesn’t need to be any actual sex.”

“Oh God,” I groaned. “All right. But what about the poop stuff?”

“This’ll delay it,” Mitchell admitted. “Hopefully not for long – we need to get you actually mashing poop into Sophia’s pussy with your bare hands as soon as possible…”

“Jesus!” I said, horrified.

“…but this is important too,” Mitchell continued. “I hope you can endure putting off the poop stuff for another half-hour or so…”

“I guess,” I said. I would happily have put it off for another half-millennium.

“All right, Jackie, let’s go to your house,” said Mitchell cheerfully.

“What were you and Mitchell talking about?” Sophia asked me quietly, as her ex walked a few yards ahead of us, chatting with Jackie and Gavin.

I sighed. “He was explaining why this is necessary,” I told her. “I’d much rather go back to the hotel with you, just the two of us, but Mitchell does seem to know what he’s talking about.”

“Has it occurred to you,” said Sophia, “they all this is just a gigantic ruse on his part, so he could be the one to take my virginity instead of you?”

I nodded. “But he’s done that already, and yet we still haven’t shaken him. Look, I’m not totally naive. I know there’s a chance he’s just manipulating he so he can spend as much intimate time with you as possible … but everything he’s been telling us does at least sound plausible. And if there’s even a chance he’s correct … can we really afford to risk our marriage by calling a premature halt to his process? I don’t know about you, but for me, our marriage is the most important thing in the world. I’d walk through fire if I had to, to ensure that we have a long and happy marriage together. So yeah … it’s possible Mitchell isn’t on the up and up, but I’m far from certain of that, and I’m not prepared to risk our marriage on that gamble.”

Sophia sighed, and nodded. “Well put,” she said. “I guess that’s kind of how I feel too. I love you, Clem. We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too, Sophia,” I replied warmly.

We reached Jackie’s residence; it was a smallish brick-built semi-detached house with an unkempt, overgrown garden at the front. “You live alone, Jackie?” I asked.

“Since ma wife walked out, aye,” he replied. “Leave yer knickers here, hen – I’ll no hae ‘em in the hoose.”

Sophia looked nervously at me, then at Mitchell, who nodded. With a sigh, she reached up beneath the sides of her skirt, grasped the waistband of her panties at either side, then carefully worked them down her legs. Stepping out of them, she looked around, then she pulled both sides of the waistband together, and hung them on a piece of wood that was sticking sideways out of a wheelbarrow.

“That’ll do,” Jackie acknowledged, and then we followed him inside, and straight up a narrow flight of stairs. He gestured to an open door. “The lavvy,” he said to Sophia.

“Did you get a nice upskirt as she climbed the stairs in front of you?” Mitchell asked me playfully.

“No,” I said shortly. As interested as I was in my wife’s bare private parts, I did not enjoy seeing them smeared with poop.

“Don’t worry, I did,” said Mitchell smugly, and I ground my teeth at his loathsomeness.

“Well I doubt it was a very good shot,” I said irritably. “You were behind me.”

“It wasn’t great,” he acknowledged. “But I’ll get better ones pretty soon.”

Gavin and Jackie had gone into Jackie’s bedroom, and were talking together in low voices. I was sure they were talking about Sophia, and I felt very nervous and uncomfortable.

“Let’s get this over with as quick as possible,” I muttered. “I’m worried these guys are plotting to have sex with Sophia.”

“They might well be,” Mitchell agreed. “But don’t forget, I’m calling the shots here. Not them. And yes, this shouldn’t take long. I’m just as keen as you are to get back to the hotel and start on the really gross messy stuff.”

“Ugh!” I groaned. “I’m not keen on that at all! I want to get everything over with! I want to get Sophia clean and alone with me … without you there to make it all nasty and dirty!”

He did not appear to take any offence at this. “And so you shall,” he assured me. “Just a quick photo shoot here, back to the hotel for some intense poop stuff … and then, as long as I’m satisfied your marriage is out of danger, I’ll leave the two of you alone to have dinner together and a fun wedding night.”

“And what if you’re not satisfied?” I asked worriedly.

“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” he said. “But based on the great progress you’ve been making so far, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

The bathroom door opened, and there was Sophia, looking apprehensive. Mitchell grinned. “Gavin and Jackie are in here,” he said, gesturing into Jackie’s bedroom. “Come on – it’s as good a room as any for a photo shoot.”

I held Sophia’s hand as we entered the bedroom. Jackie grinned, and patted his bed. “Sit yourself on here, hen,” he said. “Shoes off first though.”

The bed was covered with a plain green duvet. Sophia took off her shoes and then climbed on to the bed, sitting demurely in the middle and leaning on her left hand, with her knees folded and her feet tucked back next to her right hip.

“Okay Jackie,” said Mitchell. “You’re the photographer this time. Did you have any particular poses in mind?”

So much for Mitchell calling the shots!

“Yeah, let’s see that fanny of yours, Sophia,” said Jackie.

Sophia hesitated, then she turned her bottom toward Jackie, shyly pulling up her skirt in the process. When her bare buttocks were revealed to the bald Scotsmen, she stopped and gave them a timid smile.

Jackie stared at her. “Your fanny, no your erse!” he said.

“Ah,” said Mitchell, nodding. “A little transatlantic vocabulary issue,” he said. “In America, fanny means butt. In Britain, it means pussy.”

“Oh,” said Sophia, embarrassed.

“Jist sit back and spread your legs,” said Jackie, helpfully clarifying.

I wanted to object to such a bold and indecent request, but I was fairly sure that Gavin had photographed just as explicit a view of Sophia’s pussy as Jackie was about to get.

Sophia looked at me uncertainly; I shrugged, then nodded. With a look of weary resignation, Sophia sat back, resting on her hands, and spread her legs a little. From my angle, I could barely see anything; her right thigh was in the way. Jackie, however, cackled in glee. “Och, tha’s a pretty sight!” he said, taking a photo with his phone. “Can ye spread wider?”

Sophia spread her legs even more, and now I could see her naked and freshly-washed pussy too. My fists clenched by my sides to see the two Scotsmen gawking at my wife’s intimate parts.

“You might as well take that skirt off, Sophia,” said Mitchell cheerfully. “It isn’t concealing anything anyway.”

“Aye, take it off,” Jackie said encouragingly.

Sophia lay down on her back, unzipped her skirt, and pulled it down her legs. Mitchell helpfully took it from her, then he dropped it on the floor.

“Spread your legs again, hen,” said Jackie. “And … Mitchell, can you finger her, like you did for Gavin?”

“Hey…” I said, frowning.

But Mitchell merely nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Although … I already had a turn doing that. Gavin, why don’t you lie down next to Sophia, and stick your finger inside her?”

“Hey!” I said again, indignantly.

“Relax Clem, remember what we discussed,” said Mitchell smoothly.

Gavin was already climbing on to the bed, a large hole showing in the heel of his left sock. He chuckled as he lay down next to Sophia, and put his hand between her legs. “You’ll like this, hen,” he said, and he slowly inserted his middle finger.

“Och, that’s it,” said Jackie in delight, taking photo after photo.

Sophia grimaced at the unwelcome intrusion, but as Gavin slid his finger in and out of her, she first bit her lip, and then opened her mouth to breathe more heavily. Her eyes closed, and she tilted her head back.

“She’s lovin’ it, look,” said Jackie happily.

“Yep, she does like a good fingering,” Mitchell agreed.

“All right, that’s enough,” I said testily. “You’ve got your photos now, Jackie.”

“Clem, remember, this is all for your benefit, not Jackie’s,” Mitchell reminded me. “And not Gavin’s. These two lovely gentlemen are just props in your therapy. And if you don’t want the image of my cock burned into your brain forever, we need to involve another cock. Gavin, would you mind getting yours out, please, and posing with it next to Sophia’s pussy?”

The two Scotsmen were staring at Mitchell as if he were barking mad. But then Gavin appeared to see the sense in the suggestion, as he abruptly shrugged and said, “Aye lad, I can do that.”

“Mitchell!” I said plaintively, as Gavin eagerly lowered his jeans and underwear together, exposing a thick meaty cock. He pulled Sophia’s left leg up over his midriff, and shuffled his loins up to hers, resting his cock against her pussy.

“Aye, tha’s great!” said Jackie. “Rub your knob in her gash.”

“Agghhh, careful!” I said anxiously, as Gavin began sliding the head of his cock back and forth along the groove of Sophia’s pussy.

Mitchell grinned. “Yeah, don’t rub her raw, Gavin,” he said. “Tell you what – I just happen to have this with me…” And he produced from his pocket a small plastic bottle with a squirt cap, filled with a clear liquid.

“What’s that?” I asked suspiciously. “Soap?”

He chuckled. “It did have soap in it,” he acknowledged, “but I washed it out and replaced it with baby oil. I had a hunch we might be needing it.” He leaned over the bed, and squirted it liberally over Sophia’s pussy and Gavin’s cock.

“Steady on!” said Gavin, taken aback. He grasped his cock, wiping off the excess oil, and rubbed his hand on Sophia’s pussy, coating it all over.

“Och, jist slip it in!” said Jackie excitedly.

“No!” I exclaimed.

“No indeed,” said Mitchell, backing me up, to my great relief. “Remember Sophia is Clem’s brand new wife, and he hasn’t even had sex with her yet. But perhaps, Gavin, you could pretend you’re about to stick it in. Like, pose with the tip just pushing lightly against her opening.”

Gavin wasted no time, pressing the bulbous head of his cock against Sophia’s moist orifice, which dilated slightly around it, offering almost no resistance thanks to the copious amounts of lubricating oil.

“Och aye!” said Jackie, massaging his crotch with one hand as he took what I assumed were probably rather blurry photos with the other. “Push it in a bit more.”

“No!” I said adamantly.

“A little more won’t hurt,” said Mitchell.

“That’s what you said when it was your cock!” I protested, watching anxiously as Gavin sank a little more of the head of his cock inside my wife.

“True, but this is a little different, isn’t it?” Mitchell pointed out. “The stakes aren’t as high this time. Sophia isn’t a virgin anymore.”

“So I can go a wee bit deeper?” Gavin asked.

“Sure, just a bit,” said Mitchell, as the head of Gavin’s cock disappeared within Sophia’s vagina.

“Deeper, deeper!” Jackie urged his friend, and I stared in mounting panic at the shaft of Gavin’s cock, sliding inexorably into my wife.

“Och, at this point I might as well go baws deep,” said Gavin, and he sank himself all the way in as I uttered an anguished cry.

“Smile!” said Jackie, and he took another photo.

But although Gavin was smiling like the Cheshire Cat, Sophia was not. She looked very morose, and she seemed to be carefully avoiding my gaze. She was no doubt feeling not only violated, but embarrassed and perhaps a little ashamed, even though this was not her fault.

“Can we wrap this up please?” I asked firmly, hoping to bring an end to Sophia’s (and my) torment.

Gavin was now slowly sliding his cock in and out of my wife. “Och, this is magic,” he said.

“Actually this is good,” said Mitchell. “The memory of me fucking Sophia will fade away more easily if it’s competing with a memory of her being fucked by a random Scotsman. No offence, Gavin.”

“None taken!” Gavin replied, as he began thrusting harder and faster.

“Ah’m recording video noo,” said Jackie. “Tha’s great, Gavin. Gi’ it tae her!”

Sophia’s eyes had closed again, and she was biting her lip. Her cheeks were flushed. Clearly Gavin’s thrusting cock was having an effect on her.

“Just don’t cum inside her, please,” I begged Gavin. “She’s not on the pill!”

“Then she’ll have tae take it in her gob,” said Gavin, a little breathlessly.

“Up to you, Clem,” said Mitchell. “Vagina or mouth?”

I wanted to say ‘mouth’, but could not help worrying that Sophia might resent me for instructing another man to fill her mouth with his semen. Fortunately, Jackie came to my rescue.

“Gob!” he said. “I’m fuckin’ her next, and I dinnae want tae be dipping ma boaby in your spunk.”

“Hey!” I said indignantly. “A lot of assumptions being made here!”

“Clem, you can’t expect Jackie to simply spectate,” said Mitchell. “Not now Gavin’s progressed to actual sex. And it’ll help you – watching not one, but two Scotsmen having sex with your wife will greatly diminish the impact of watching her ex do so.”

“But I haven’t even had sex with her yet!” I wailed.

“Clem,” said Mitchell reproachfully. “Try not to dwell on your own victimhood here. You’re not the one who’s actually going through it. Just try to be supportive of your wife, okay?”

“Yes, yes of course,” I said, abashed. “Sorry darling – I didn’t mean to be selfish. Obviously I’m aware that you’re going through the worst of this.”

“Awright, hen, get on your hands and knees,” said Gavin, pulling his cock out of Sophia. “And gi’ us a gobble.” He got up from the bed, and stood in front of her as she got into position.

I was dismayed at how readily she was complying with every little instruction; not just from Mitchell, who had worked hard to prove himself a knowledgeable and effective therapist, but from this shaven-headed Scotsman whom we had only just met. Perhaps she saw him as a proxy for Mitchell … or maybe Mitchell had simply worn her down so much that the fight had gone from her. At any rate, she seemed resigned to her fate as she parted her lips to receive Gavin’s cock.

But I could not judge her for that. After all, what was I doing? Why was I not putting a stop to this? Sophia was my wife, dammit! Why was I letting other men have sex with her? This thought grew in my mind, slowly firing up my resolve until, as Jackie climbed on to the bed behind Sophia, his erect cock in his hand, I finally snapped.

“No!” I exclaimed vehemently. “No more! I don’t want to see another cock going in my wife! This … this experiment, or whatever it is … is over!”

“Calm down, Clem,” said Mitchell smoothly, as Jackie, ignoring me, shuffled his knees forward and directed his cock towards Sophia’s vagina. “It’s not quite over, but it very soon will be. In a couple of minutes we’ll be out of here, and a valuable component of your therapy will be completed. In the meantime, don’t torment yourself by trying to prevent the inevitable. You can’t stop what’s happening. Are you imagining you can fight these two, or something? Please. Just relax, watch, take photos, and let these sights settle into your mind.”

Jackie sank his cock deep into Sophia with a contented sigh, and began fucking her. I groaned in despair. Mitchell was right; there was no stopping this. I simply had to endure it.

“Let’s get this off you,” said Gavin, tugging on Sophia’s top. “Arms up.”

Sophia lifted first one arm, then the other, as Gavin pulled her top off. Then, fully naked, she went back to sucking on his cock.

“Fuck, she’s tight!” gasped Jackie, his loins thrusting vigorously.

“She was a virgin less than an hour ago,” Mitchell remarked.

“No kiddin’!” said Gavin. “And noo she’s had three knobs in her? And none of those were her husband’s?”

“That’s correct,” Mitchell confirmed.

“Tha’s fucked up!” said Jackie, chuckling breathlessly. “I’m no complainin’, mind!”

Feeling utterly depressed, I barely took any photos of the action – though in my defence, the view did not change appreciably over the next few minutes. I got the impression that Jackie was taking his time, slowing down whenever he got close to his orgasm, then speeding up again after he had cooled down a bit. I also noted that Gavin was getting a rather unsatisfactory blowjob, as Sophia kept pausing her sucking in order to breathe heavily through her nose. Her eyes were closed and her entire upper body was flushed.

Finally Jackie uttered a long, blissful groan, shuddering as he pressed his hips hard against Sophia’s buttocks, no doubt pumping large quantities of semen deep inside her. I sniffed, and wiped away some moisture at the edge of my eye, with the back of my hand.

“Ye done?” Gavin asked his friend.

After a few pants, Jackie nodded. “Aye,” he said, pulling his slippery cock out of my wife. “Ye want a go at this end?”

“Aye, I do,” said Gavin. “The gobble isnae workin’ for me. I reckon she’s been a wee bit distracted.” He pulled out of Sophia’s mouth, then went around to the other side of the bed, climbing up behind her as Jackie vacated his spot.

“You don’t mind sloppy seconds, Gavin?” asked Mitchell in amusement.

“Nah, it’ll be fun tae cum inside a bride before her husband,” said Gavin, and he sank his erection back into Sophia’s vagina with one smooth motion.

“Video, video,” Mitchell urged me.

I glumly recorded Gavin as he enthusiastically fucked my wife with wet, squelchy sounds. My gaze wandered from Sophia’s oscillating bottom to her face, which was giving every impression of being in the throes of sexual bliss. I knew it was a physiological reaction, but the notion that Sophia was somehow enjoying this did not make the ordeal easier for me to bear. And when she suddenly gasped and moaned, shaking in an obviously powerful orgasm, I think I died a little inside.

Mitchell’s estimate of ‘a couple of minutes’ was proving to be wildly inaccurate. Jackie had taken much longer than that to reach his climax, and Gavin was taking even longer. But eventually he, too, pulled Sophia’s hips firmly back against his, burying himself deep inside her as he ejaculated, his face clenched and contorted in an orgasmic rictus. It was an image I knew I would never forget.

“And, that’s it,” said Mitchell happily. “Thank you gentlemen, you’ve been very helpful. Come on Sophia, let’s get you back to the hotel.”

With semen running down her thigh, Sophia wordlessly climbed off the bed and put on her top and skirt. Then she slipped her feet into her shoes.

“Nice meetin’ ya, Sophia,” said Gavin with a grin.

“Nice fuckin’ ya!” said Jackie. “Come back anytime.”

I could not get down the stairs fast enough. Sophia followed, more slowly, and Mitchell came last. Outside, Sophia retrieved her poop-filled panties and stepped into them, grimacing as she pulled them up beneath her skirt.

“Now,” said Mitchell cheerfully, “back to the hotel for the grand poopy conclusion!”

“Oh good,” I muttered. Then it suddenly hit me anew how much Sophia had been through. “Darling, I feel so bad for you,” I said, putting my arm around her. “That must have been so awful! I can’t even imagine.”

She looked at me sadly. “Do you still … love me? After seeing that? Do you still want me?”

I stared at her in shock. “Of course!” I said. “Didn’t we just exchange vows to love, honour and cherish each other for better or worse? I meant it then and I still mean it. You’re the woman I want, Sophia, and nothing’s going to change that.”

She looked relieved. “You’re not … not mad at me for letting them … you know…”

“Of course not,” I assured her. “Mitchell talked you into it, just as he talked me into letting it happen. And I do follow his logic, though I wish there were a solution that didn’t involve you having sex with strange Scotsmen.”

“Me too,” Sophia agreed fervently.

“Let’s just get through this poop thing,” I continued, “then we can get you cleaned up, go out for dinner, have a lovely evening together, and enjoy our wedding night just as we planned.”

“Sounds good!l,” said Sophia. “I can’t wait to get this over with. It’s horrible having poop smushing against my nether regions.”

“I’m sure,” I said sympathetically.

“You know he’s going to have you rub poop all over my … my pussy,” she said, sotto voce. “With your bare hand. Do you think you can do that?”

I grimaced. “I’ll have to,” I said. “It’ll be unpleasant, of course, but I’ll survive. You’ll be going through worse, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she agreed unhappily. “But at least I’ve been through it before. I know I can handle it. I’m a little worried about you, though.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

We headed back to the hotel. I walked a few yards behind, taking photos of Sophia’s bulging panties, while she and Mitchell walked arm-in-arm ahead of me. As we neared the hotel, Sophia caught the eyes of several locals, who pointed and laughed and made remarks to each other that I could not hear. This was not a large town, and I was concerned that my wife was getting a reputation here that would haunt us for the rest of our stay.

“I assume we’re doing this in my room?” said Mitchell. “Since it’s likely to get very messy, and smelly…”

“Yeah, I’d rather keep our room clean if possible,” I agreed.

In Mitchell’s room, therefore, we again spread out a towel on the bed, and Sophia, having stripped down to her panties, lay down upon it. “Lie on your back,” Mitchell instructed her, “with your knees up and spread apart.”

Sophia adopted this position, and sweat began to bead on my forehead. I knew what was coming, and I was dreading it. With a rising sense of panic, I stared at the huge bulge in my wife’s panties, and the mound of ginger-brown poop that was visible either side of the narrow strip of material between her legs.

“Now, Clem,” said Mitchell, “I want you to carefully remove Sophia’s panties, leaving her poop where it is.”

This, I felt, I could do. I could manage it without touching the poop. Taking a deep breath, I grasped the sides of my bride’s white panties, and tugged them towards me as she lifted her hips to help. I was able to peel them free from the poop without touching anything messy, but as I pulled them up her raised thighs, and the poop settled in a viscous heap against her pussy, I knew I could not remain clean for much longer.

“Good!” said Mitchell, once I had dropped the soiled panties on the floor. “Now grab a handful of the brown stuff, and start mashing it into Sophia’s pussy.”

I grimaced. Sophia gave me a half-hearted smile, and spread her legs a little wider. Steeling myself, I slowly reached out, and sank my fingers into the poop.

It felt so disgusting that I instantly recoiled. “I’m sorry, I just can’t!” I said, staring in horror at my poop-coated fingers. “This is so gross!”

“You can,” Mitchell said firmly. “Try to focus on something else, something more to your liking, as you grab the poop. How about … giving your wife a kiss, for example? Or sucking on one of her luscious breasts?”

Fighting to keep my stomach under control, I nodded. Leaning over Sophia, I kissed her on the lips … and as we kissed, I sank my fingers back into the poop. The urge to fetch was overwhelming, but I forced myself to close my fingers around a large handful of poop, which I then pressed against Sophia’s vulva. It squished in my hand, and oozed through my fingers…

“I’m sorry, I…” I began, pulling my face away from Sophia’s, then “HUUUUURRRRGGGGHHHH!!” A torrent of vomit spewed from my mouth, deluging Sophia’s face and chest. It happened so quickly that I did not even have a chance to turn away from her. Appalled, I stared at her shocked expression, at the vomit splattered over her cheeks, nose, mouth and chin, at the rivers of yellow chunky fluid cascading over her breasts. “I’m so sorry!” I croaked.

“Oh dear!” Mitchell chuckled.

Shaking poop from my hand, I staggered back from the bed. “I can’t,” I groaned. “I just can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Mitchell sighed. “What a shame,” he said. “But I understand. Today’s been a lot for you, hasn’t it Clem? I guess I shouldn’t have expected you to take on so much in such a short time.”

“I need to wash my hand,” I muttered. “And Sophia … oh my God! I’m so sorry – you’re covered…”

“Don’t worry about Sophia,” said Mitchell. “I’ll take care of her. You go back to your room, clean up, and take some time to get yourself together. Sophia and I will meet you downstairs for dinner in … let’s say an hour?”

I looked at Sophia in dismay. “An hour? But what will you … I mean … can’t Sophia come with me…?”

“Not unless you want to further reinforce your current sense of disgust in her presence,” said Mitchell. “Nope – you need some breathing space. Go on now – go clean yourself up.”

“Will you be okay here?” I asked Sophia nervously.

Sophia shrugged, her expression rueful. “What’s he going to do to me that he hasn’t already done?”

Mitchell smiled as he climbed on the bed, lying down next to Sophia. He sank his hand into the pile of poop, and began massaging the disgusting muck into her pussy. “I’m going to give you a lovely orgasm,” he said confidently. “There’s no reason this shouldn’t be a positive experience for you, at least.”

Sophia closed her eyes, lay back, and began to breathe heavily. I could not watch any longer, and hurriedly left the room, using my clean left hand on the door handle. I hurried to our room, went into the bathroom, and washed my hand, scrubbing it longer and more thoroughly than it had ever been scrubbed before. Then I rinsed my mouth out. Then, still feeling unclean, I took a shower.

About an hour later, Sophia texted me: ‘We’re in the lobby.’

I hurried downstairs to meet them. Unsurprisingly, Sophia was in the same top and skirt as before, but I could not help wondering what had happened to her messy panties. “Hi,” I said awkwardly.

She smiled nervously. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m fine. What about you, through? I was worried…”

“Why don’t you kids find a table?” Mitchell suggested. “I’ll get us some drinks.”

I nodded, and went into the dining room with Sophia. As we sat down, Sophia bit her lip. “Clem … I have to apologise,” she said, looking ashamed. “Mitchell, um … he had sex with me again.”

My face fell. “You … let him…?”

“I didn’t want him to,” she said wretchedly. “It’s just … I was in a very vulnerable position, and he … he just stuck it in and started … you know.”

I was disappointed and upset, but I knew it was not Sophia’s fault. “It’s okay,” I said, with difficulty. “I guess I’m not really surprised. Did he … uh … climax … inside…?”

She nodded. “It doesn’t really make much difference, though, right?” she said. “Tomorrow we’ll get a Plan B from the pharmacy.”

I shuddered. “Yeah … I guess … okay,” I said. “Um … what happened to your … panties?”

“I washed them,” she said. “They’re hanging up to dry in Mitchell’s bathroom.”

“Oh,” I said. “So you’re, um…”

“Commando,” she said. “Yes.”

Mitchell joined us, setting down the drinks he was carrying. “Coke for you, Clem – hope that’s okay. Sophia, I got you an Apple Dog, which the barman recommended. He said it’s made from whisky from a local distillery.”

Sophia regarded the pale green drink with some wariness, but when she took a sip, she nodded grudgingly. “It’s nice,” she said.

We ordered food, and talked while we waited. It was not long before the subject of my failed poop therapy came up. “I think you’ve suffered enough for one day, Clem,” said Mitchell. “But on no account should the two of you attempt to have your wedding night tonight.”

“What?” I said in dismay, and Sophia looked shocked.

“That shouldn’t come as a surprise,” said Mitchell. “You’re obviously not ready. And in any case, Clem, do you really want to be just the fourth cock Sophia’s had inside her today? It won’t feel very special to either of you. Defer your wedding night to tomorrow – that’ll give your vagina a chance to recover from the pounding it’s taken today, Sophia, and Clem … you’ve waited this long. Another day won’t hurt … and it’ll feel more special when it does happen. Right now, mentally, you’re a mess. Tonight would be the absolute worst time to have your wedding night. It’ll be awkward, uncomfortable, and frankly an all-around disaster, casting a long shadow over your entire marriage.”

My shoulders slumped sadly. I had been looking forward to tonight for so long!

Sophia squeezed my hand. “We can always just lie together and cuddle,” she said.

Mitchell shook her head. “Too much temptation!” he said. “I don’t want you guys succumbing to your urges and ruining everything. Best if you spend the night apart. You’ll sleep in my room, Sophia, so I can keep an eye on you.”

Sophia whimpered unhappily, and I scowled. “You’ll just have sex with her again!” I accused him.

To my surprise, he did not try to deny it. “Yup,” he said, nodding. “I imagine I will. But what difference will that make to you, Clem? I’ve already fucked her twice today. A third time – and, I’m sure, a fourth – will be neither here nor there.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to fill your vagina with more of my sperm, Sophia.”

I shuddered. “Gross, Mitchell!” I said. “You don’t have to gloat about it. She’ll be taking Plan B tomorrow, so you can forget any ideas about getting her pregnant!”

“Hmm,” said Mitchell. “About that. You said today isn’t a safe day, Sophia. When was your last period?”

“It ended nine days ago,” she replied guardedly. “It started six days before that.”

Mitchell nodded. “So you’ve probably already ovulated,” he said. “Which means my sperms have probably already found your egg, and fertilised it. Which means that Plan B isn’t going to help – and even if it did … as a Catholic, could you really bring yourself to end a new life like that? I mean, taking a pill to prevent ovulation is one thing. But taking a pill to kill a developing baby … is that okay with you?”

Sophia was staring at him in horror. “But … but we don’t know that I’m already … pregnant…”

“Right,” Mitchell agreed. “Either you are or your aren’t. But my sperms have had plenty of time to reach your egg. If you’re not pregnant by now, you’re likely not getting pregnant this cycle. So any pill you take, if it does anything at all, either won’t be necessary or will end a new life.”

Sophia put her head in her hands and groaned. “I don’t think I can do that,” she said miserably.

“Dammit Mitchell!” I said angrily. “Why didn’t you say any of this before, when it was maybe early enough to do something about it! And why did you cum inside her, if you knew this?”

“Honestly it just occurred to me a few minutes ago,” said Mitchell. “I certainly wasn’t thinking along these lines when we discussed Plan B earlier, or I wouldn’t have suggested it. For that mistake, I’m sorry … but frankly, Clem, you should take some responsibility for knowing this kind of stuff yourself.”

“I didn’t feel the need to know it!” I said indignantly. “We weren’t planning to have unprotected sex! And even if we did, it would have been okay, because we’re married and planning to have kids someday!”

Mitchell grinned. “Well, that day will come pretty soon,” he said. “In nine months, or thereabouts. And … I don’t mean to jump the gun here or anything, but I promise you I’ll support the kid, financially. It’ll be mine as well as Sophia’s, and I don’t intend to give up any of my rights or responsibilities.”

A feeling of despair crept over me, as I realised Mitchell intended to remain in our lives. “How will you do that, Mitchell?” I asked in a shaky voice. “You don’t live near us.”

“I’ll move,” he said with a shrug. “Not a big deal for me to do so. I work remotely anyway.”

“But it might not even be yours!” I said desperately. “It might be Gavin’s … or Jackie’s!”

“It won’t be Gavin’s,” said Mitchell, shaking his head. “Dude told me he had a vasectomy three years ago. His wife made him.”

“He’s married?” I said in surprise.

“Divorced,” said Mitchell. “And it’s unlikely to be Jackie’s, either, since he’d apparently had sex just half an hour before we met him. So he’d already spent virtually all of his sperms. Plus, I have the added advantage of having cum inside you first, Sophia. If you’re pregnant – as I’m sure you are – your baby is almost certainly mine. But I’ll be happy to confirm that with a paternity test.”

“Great,” I muttered bitterly. “We’re never going to get rid of you, are we?”

Mitchell chuckled. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?” he remarked, with an irritating air of smugness.

And he was right. We never did get rid of him. He slept with Sophia that night, and indeed every night of our honeymoon. During the day he never left us alone for more than a few minutes, talking us into more and more outrageous sexual and poop-related adventures that neither of us wanted. When we flew home, we thought we might finally get some time to ourselves, but Mitchell arrived on our doorstep that evening, and stayed the night – in my bed, with Sophia, while I slept in the spare room. He assured us that it was just for one night … but the next day, a test confirmed that Sophia was indeed pregnant. After taking us out for a celebratory meal, Mitchell talked us into not only letting him move into our house, but also making the previous night’s sleeping arrangement permanent – he argued that as the father of her baby, he should be the one sleeping with her and taking care of her needs.

That was over a year ago. Sophia and I still haven’t had sex, but now she’s pregnant with a second baby of Mitchell’s. I can hear them now, having sex in MY ROOM, while I rock little Mitch Junior to sleep. Once he’s out, I’ll have to go downstairs, switch on my laptop, and continue working on the Ren’Py game Mitchell and I have been developing. It’s about a married couple, played by me and Sophia, who take in a lodger (Mitchell), who awakens in the wife a suppressed desire to poop in her panties. We’ve taken over three thousand photos so far, many of them so disgusting I almost throw up when I remember what an ordeal it was to pose for them. I still break out in a cold sweat when I remember the scene in which Mitchell tosses Sophia’s poop-filled panties to me, and I fumble the catch, causing the poop to smash into my face. Mitchell took an almost unholy delight in plastering my face with poop for that horrible shot.

I have thought about leaving, of course. Mitchell and Sophia are husband and wife in all but name, and I’ve given up hope that he’ll ever leave us. But in the rare moments we have together, Sophia reminds me that she still loves me, and couldn’t get through this nightmare without my love and comfort and support. So of course I have to stay, even though I’m really just a glorified babysitter at this point.

Ugh. This sucks.

THE END



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