In a Cesspit

I wish I could live here. I wish music festivals lasted forever, and that I lived forever so I could experience it forever.

I stare up at the ceiling. It’s covered with rows of holes that let in all the cool light from outside. I’m waist deep in a brown pond, which is more like a hole in the ground than a room. I’m where everyone shits into.

I’ve been hiding in here for days. I came here with no intention of seeing any bands. I came for this rich, erotic, sexual, dirty, depraved, eye-watering smell, I came for this fetid urine bath where I could rub the shit of a thousand people into my face, I came for a place of disease where I would love to, and probably will, die.

I kneel so I’m chin deep and start masturbating. I open my mouth and let the thick nutty soup swim around my tongue, allowing the rich, intense, bitter flavour to coat my taste buds.

The first day of the festival, early in the evening, I went to the toilet barefoot and struggled my way through the gap towards the Heaven underneath. I was initially a little worried the security would catch me, but the temptation was so strong, it was like a chain attached to my balls pulled me underneath. My mind was swimming with anticipation and ecstasy and joy, it was like I was dreaming.

An entire festival of people. Imagine.

I could feel the shitty sediment swimming around the head of my erect bell-end. I was actually wanking into shit. For probably the fortieth time in as many hours. I gargled with it, I swished it around my gums, I scooped it into my mouth like I was dying of thirst. My stomach was full of thousands of people’s shit, and my intestines were about to shit out their shit. It was the climax of every fantasy I had ever had.

A girl had started to pee. I swam over towards the shower and let the yellow liquid flow over my hair and across my lips, running across my face, sweet, salty ambrosia, such a fine taste. I let it run down my shoulders and over my dirty, bare chest. ‘Baptise me in your urine, darling’, my mind screamed. I worship the waste of every dirty cunt that uses these toilets. Man or woman, child or OAP, I long to pick the fibre you couldn’t digest out of your teeth.

I submerged myself underneath after she’d finished, opening my mouth to let out air and let in fluid shit. I love shit. I like a million different kinds, every coil like a different wine, beer shits and diarrhoea and hard crusty constipation, but now I was drowning in stunning variety, forced to smell the vibrant hum in every breath, forced to taste it on my tongue when I opened my mouth – –

— aah-

I ejaculated the tiny bit of spunk left in my body into the mixture. Every time I do that it makes me a little less inclined to eat it.