Natural Scat Girls - Amys painting class

Amy was a natural beauty, standing tall at 5'7 and weighing in at a svelte 120 pounds. She had long, golden brown hair that cascaded down her back, and bright green eyes that could light up a room. Her smooth, milky-white skin always shone, but today she was blushing slightly as she entered the painting class. Dressed in a tight fitting, black tank top and a pair of skinny jeans which hugged her curves, Amy looked every inch the confident and alluring teenager that she was.

She took a seat on one side of the room, her gaze sweeping over the rest of the students who were already seated - all men. There were five of them, each of them familiar with the routine by now. As soon as they saw Amy, their eyes widened, their hearts pounding in their chest. They knew they were in for a treat today.

Their eyes followed Amy as she pulled out a small bottle of water from her bag and took a sip. Her lips were full and plump, sensuously playing with the straw as she drank. As she pushed her long hair over her shoulder to reveal a little more of her neck, she couldn't help but feel a slight twinge in her gut. It was that feeling that always signaled an impending shit - a feeling that only intensified as the class began.

Their instructor, a middle-aged man with greying hair and wire-rimmed glasses, walked up to the front of the room and began to lecture about the rules of painting. Amy listened attentively, her eyes focused on the pastels laid out before her. But she couldn't help but feel increasingly uncomfortable. The pressure in her bowels was growing stronger by the minute, and she couldn't wait for the class to be over so she could get home and release it all.

As the class progressed and the students began to work on their canvases, Amy found herself becoming more and more distracted. Her mind was consumed by the gnawing ache in her stomach and the need to shit. But she couldn't leave - not yet. Every fiber of her being was telling her to run to the bathroom, but she resisted the urge, somehow managing to concentrate on her painting.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the class ended. Amy was the first one out of her seat, practically sprinting towards the door. As soon as she was out of sight, she ran to the nearest bathroom stall. She couldn't contain herself any longer - she had to shit. She unzipped her pants, releasing the pent-up pressure that had been building inside her all day. And as she did so, she let out a soft moan of relief, her eyes closed in bliss.

The warm, smooth texture of her poop against her fingers was exquisite. She moaned again, this time louder, as she began to massage the poo between her fingers, savoring the sensation. And then, she did what she had been waiting for all day - she lifted her backside off the toilet seat and released a perfect, Teen-sized turd onto the floor.

It was huge - bigger than any turd she had ever taken before. And it felt incredible, sliding out of her ass and plopping onto the cool tiled floor. She stared at it in awe, marveling at its size and shape. Then, without hesitation, she reached down and picked it up in her bare hands, admiring its texture and weight.

Amy couldn't believe she was doing this - shitting in public, touching her own feces. But the feeling was simply too good to resist. She rolled the turd between her fingers, savoring the sensation of its warm, sticky texture against her skin. And then, she did something she hadn't expected - she brought it closer to her face, taking a tentative sniff.

The smell was intoxicating - earthy, yet slightly sweet. It was the most delicious scent she had ever experienced. And before she knew it, she was licking the turd, tasting its unique flavor. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted before, and she loved it. She moaned again, this time even louder, as she continued to explore the flavors of her own shit.

When she finally pulled away, she was covered in sweat and trembling with excitement. She had never experienced anything like this before - the mix of shame and arousal was unlike anything she could have imagined. But as she looked down at the turd, she knew that she had to take it home with her. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving it behind - not when it held so many memories of pleasure and excitement.

Slowly, she stood up and smoothed down her clothes, trying to compose herself. She glanced at her painting, still sitting on the table. It was unfinished - just like her. But she knew that she would never forget this moment - the moment when she had let go and indulged in her darkest desires. And as she left the classroom, she knew that she would be back for more - because nothing could compare to the feeling of shitting and savoring her own scent. Not even the shame and embarrassment that threatened to consume her.