Something oily drips from your sphincter, staining the ground. You suppose you should feel worried about this, but the overriding emotion which simmers in your gut is one of sensual, yielding calm. The pressure in your bowels which has been building over the last few days feels right somehow, and the fact that your back passage is dribbling lubricant makes you incredibly, perversely hot. As you stand there and savor the wet, soothing sensation a fantasy pushes itself into your mind, one of being on your hands and knees and letting any number of beings use your ass, of being bred over and over by beautiful, irrepressible insect creatures. With some effort you suppress these alien emotions and carry on, trying to ignore the oil which occasionally beads out of your backdoor and stains your comfortable clothes.