A bashful woman entered my chamber and lowered her undergarments, which emitted a faint scent of urine and vinegar. The garment seemed to have been worn for several days. In her forties, the lady’s anus was plump and round, indicating that she had been holding in her bowel movement for a few hours and was on the verge of relieving herself. She nervously bit her lip as she released a loud, fizzling fart that sounded like a tiny bicycle horn. Her anus began to expand to an alarming size, twice, thrice its original size, as a colossal turd emerged from her rectum. The feces had a putrid odor, reminiscent of days-old meat combined with vinegar. It was a substantial load, and a portion of it splattered onto my face before I began to consume it piece by piece. I relish the taste of fresh feces, especially when they are still warm and have a wet, creamy texture. I can savor the sensation and smear it all over my body for hours.