Asher likes to retell the story of how he met Max. They were postgrads at McCombs School of Business at the University of Texas, working toward a Master of Management in Hospitality.
Max’s dream of owning a restaurant was years in the making. With his connections and networking abilities, he obtained financing to build on his chosen site in Austin. Asher was tasked to design his dream kitchen.
After years of hard work, determination, judicious risk-taking and a bit of luck, they were the duo behind Zaffiro, a bistro located in Austin’s urban core. It’s known for northern Italian cuisine, with an emphasis on freshwater fish and filled pastas. Zaffiro was awarded one Michelin star in 2024, the first year of Michelin eligibility in Texas.
Max is General Manager, overseeing business operations and the front of the house. Asher is Executive Chef, jefe of the back of the house.
The restaurant business is difficult, as attested by anyone who ever worked in one. With the Michelin star came crowds, media coverage and national recognition. Neither man rested on laurels. Their goals were to innovate and improve. An additional star would be icing on the cake.
Spouses and children were on the horizon for now.
“Hey Max, I’ve been thinking.”
“I get worried when you say that, Ash.”
“We’ve been on the job fifty hours a week since 2023. We have a good team. The place is running like clockwork. How about a vacation? Somewhere with no crowds. Outdoors. How does a rainforest sound?”
“I like it. You’ve done research? Pray tell.”
“There’s a couple with two cabins in a small compound south of the National Park in San José, Costa Rica, near Uvita. From the looks of it, it’s fucking paradise. There’s whale-watching, diving, kayaking, waterfalls, sea caves, hiking trails.
“I have a layout of the compound. You should know it’s not The White Lotus. It’s not a luxury resort. There’s no fine dining, no spa, no influencers. You can hike fifteen minutes and see a waterfall. You in?”
Max answered, “You’re reading my mind. I’ve been thinking about how much I want to get out of this town. What else?”
“I checked the best times to visit Costa Rica. ‘Green season’ is coming up. Yeah, it’s rainy, but the crowds are lower, and it doesn’t rain all day. The rainforest is lush.”
“Sounds like a plan, Ash. Let’s carve out two weeks. I just finished quarterlies, so no upcoming reporting deadlines. Get on it!”
“I’m ahead of you, Max. I have their contact info. I checked availability and found open days. Once I get confirmation, I’ll notify the staff. No need for an all-hands. I’ll send details to the leads when I have them.”
“Tell me about the meals situation, if there is one,” Max continued.
“The hosts opened the place 10 years ago. Good reviews, too. There’s a communal area for dining, coffee, drinks, snacks. They provide breakfast and will pack a lunch if we order in advance. Dinner we’re on our own, but guess what. Uvita has a food scene, lots of restaurants, casual, upscale, the works.”
Rodrigo and Isabella were amiable and gracious hosts. Everything was in order. The accommodations and location were spectacular. Since it was late afternoon, they decided to drop off their belongings and find a restaurant.
“Hey Ash, you mind if we turn in early tonight? I’m tired after that five-hour flight. I want to get an early start tomorrow.”
“I’m with you, Max. I have some ideas for stuff we can do. I’ll run ‘em by you later.”
The guys met their hosts for Desayuno Típico, the typical Costa Rican breakfast, a simple meal found in homes around the country. Starters included fresh fruit—papaya, pineapple and cantaloupe—served with strong coffee and fresh-squeezed juices. The heart of the breakfast is Gallo Pinto, a mixture of rice and black beans sautéed with onions, red bell peppers, garlic and cilantro. The secret ingredient is Salsa Lizano, a slightly sweet, slightly spicy, brown vegetable-based sauce.
There were eggs (huevos), fried plantains, and natilla, a thin, slightly sour Costa Rican cream, typically dolloped over the Gallo Pinto or the eggs. Handmade corn tortillas round out the meal.
Near the end of the big breakfast, Asher whispered to Max, “I need to shit.” Max replied, “So do I. Let’s go.”
Max led the way down the path to the facilities. The “ceiling” was made of tree branches intertwined with vines. Max took the toilet in the back. A second toilet was directly in front of it at a right angle.
“Well, this’ll be a new experience, Ash. We’re pooping in front of one another, and everything that entails. You OK with this, as if there were any other choice.”
“I guess I was right when I said this isn’t The White Lotus,” Asher answered, as he dropped his shorts and sat down. He felt nervous anticipation.
Max farted twice. Asher let a long, airy poot.
Seconds later, Asher’s asshole spread wide. Numerous wet and sticky turds splashed in the water below. It was loud and dramatic.
“I’d say you got it all out, Ash.”
Max then loosed a steady stream of crackling mush into the bowl with force. It lasted almost four seconds.
“Wow, dude, that was epic,” Asher commented. “There is an upside,” he continued. “With no doors, no ceiling, I don’t have to smell your shit.”
“You forget I’m downwind from you.”
“Whatever, dude. I’m about to wipe my ass now. See these trash bins? The plumbing can’t handle toilet paper. Used paper goes in the bins. Otherwise, you’ll be the one telling our hosts you clogged the toilet.”
Asher lifted his ass cheek, then ran the toilet paper up his crack. He checked it, saw it was very dirty, then tossed it into the bin. He wiped four more times.
Max, silent, took it all in, low-key. It was the first time he’d seen a man taking a shit. And another first that a man watched him perform his most intimate act. Max was accustomed to being in charge, not vulnerable.
As he sat there, a big shit load floating underneath him, his mind raced. He looked at his business partner. Asher was tall and well-built, with a textbook bubble butt. Seeing his ass from the side only accentuated its roundness and heft. He even had a butt dimple. His thighs were muscular and sculpted, with a wisp of blond hair. Even his calves were chiseled.
Max was intrigued. And curious. The look of concentration on Asher’s face. His farts. How he held his breath, then tightened his stomach when pushing. The sound of his chunky shit hitting the water. The look of relief. The smell. The smile at the end. Max, who always played the straightlaced boss, envied Asher’s easygoing playfulness.
Then there was the way Asher wiped his ass. He didn’t stand up, like he did. He wasn’t a front wiper either. He was a folder, and not a “one and done” guy. No courtesy-flush. Being a numbers man, he gave Asher an “A” in shitting.
His thoughts manifested in the part of his body that had a mind of its own—his penis, which was growing, thickening, and leaking profusely. Asher could see between his legs if he looked in his direction, so he covered his crotch discreetly with his left hand, pushing his penis down as if pissing. He didn’t care if Asher saw his thick pubic hair.
Max rose from the toilet, positioned his ass toward Asher, bent over slightly, then dug in. He was reluctant to reveal his penis to Asher just yet.
“So, you stand up to wipe. That’s a new one.” Asher looked in Max’s bowl. “Would it be a faux pas for the Executive Chef to comment on the General Manager’s impressive shit load? Would that be taken as a compliment?” Asher again displaying his laid-back sense of humor, Max thought.
Max, eager to soften his image, and push some boundaries, laughed, “Not at all. Get a good look. But I expect reciprocation. Stand up and let me see what you’ve done, Chef.”
Asher, taken aback slightly, decided to roll with it. He could see that the trip was already influencing Max, who desperately needed to chill.
Asher exuded confidence. He decided to give Max what he appeared to want: A show.
He dropped his shorts on the floor and rose from the toilet, facing Max head on, giving him full view of the bowl. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Asher’s poise extended to his penis size. He was a member of the “Average Guy’s Club.” He was cut. The rub was that he was a grower, not a shower. In some situations, it was downright small. But when erect, it was slightly above average. Upsides were girth and his oversize mushroom head. His pubic bush, a shade or two darker than his blond hair, was lightly trimmed.
“You want to look at my shit? Can you see it from there or do you want to come over here to get a better look?”
“I can see it just fine, Ash. I don’t know how much you usually poop, but this one is a proper bowl-filler,” Max said.
“It’s just another morning, Max. I eat lots of fruit and veggies. All that fiber makes big loads.
“We done here?” Asher asked.
“Yeah, I’m finished. A warm shower sounds good right now. You ready?”
Asher saw Max on the bench, still clothed. Sensing he was nervous, Asher turned on the charm, cracked a joke, then asked, “Are you ready to do this,” pointing to the single shower.
They stripped and stood under the warm water together. Asher was comfortable in the space. But he felt he needed to break the ice. What better way than a compliment?
“Wow, Max, I always thought you were hung, and damn, those big low-hangers!”
“I get no complaints, Ash.”
“You’re a shower, Max. I’m a grower myself.”
Max returned the compliment. “Nice glutes. You work on them?”
“Yeah, I do a lot of squats.”
“There must be some genes involved. You get some stares,” Max asked. He was finally letting go. Asher was pleased.
“From men and women. I’m used to it.”
After a few minutes, Asher turned to Max.
“Speaking of growing, I haven’t busted a nut in four days. You mind if I jerk off?”
Max blushed and laughed, adding, “Go ahead. Just aim it away from me!”
With Max’s blessing, Asher started masturbating. Soon, his dick was erect. He liked to edge, to prolong the pleasure. He glanced at Max occasionally, noticing he was watching as he continued stroking.
Asher looked at Max, a silent signal to “get ready,” then at Max’s big dick. He closed his eyes, turned away, then came. He counted five spurts.
“Fuck man, that was good,” he said to Max.
“I bet you sleep well tonight,” Max replied.
It was Max’s turn to ask a favor.
“Hey Ash, I have a request before we finish up. There’s something my girlfriend does for me that I can’t physically do myself.”
“She washes my back. Would you consider taking this washcloth and wash my back? Give it some effort. You won’t hurt me. It feels good to be touched. You know I’m not gay.”
“Sure, I’ll do you if you promise to do me. You want me to wash your ass?”
“OK, turn around for me.” Asher soaped up the washcloth, then started scrubbing Max’s back, beginning with his broad shoulders, working his way down. He placed his left hand on Max’s shoulder for support, then scrubbed some more.
He had an idea. He used his left hand to separate Max’s fleshy ass cheeks. “Bend over slightly, please.” Max complied. Asher used his soapy fingers to cleanse Max’s asshole.
“You all right,” Asher asked.
“Yes. Thanks for indulging me.”
“Any time, partner. You ready to do me?”
“Sure thing. You want me to do your butt like you did mine?”
“Only if you feel comfortable, Max.”
Max started at the bottom. He lathered his hands with a bar of soap, then guided the soap up and down Asher’s deep ass crack until he was satisfied it was clean. He gave Asher’s back a good scrubbing.
“All those squats are really paying off, Ash!”
“Hey Max, If I knew all I had to do to get you to unwind was show you my big ass, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”
Max, a smile on his face, had nothing to say.
“Let’s get dressed, Max. I have a whole day planned. There’s active time and relax time.”
Max said, “I’m over making any decisions on this trip. Some days I want to sit on the front porch with my Kindle. Order in lunch. Have strong drinks while we watch the sun set over the Pacific.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I want the ‘chill Max’ when we get back to Austin.”
“That’s my intention, Ash. While we’re talking openly, I have another request. Feel free to turn me down.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I enjoyed pooping with you today. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s not about sex. It’s about a friend I can trust.
“If you agree, let’s meet in that little room every morning for the rest of the trip. Tomorrow let’s switch toilets. I want you to see me the way I saw you a few minutes ago. Am I nuts? Too out there for you?”
“I’ll do it for you, Max. I have a freaky side, too, if you’re up for some exploration.”
“Let’s keep this between us, Ash.”
“Don’t worry, Max. What happens in Costa Rica stays in Costa Rica.”
(only pictures, video are AI)
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