Centaur shit by the steaming mouthful

In a beach front bar with a throat full of bourbon and a heart full of savagery, I made a connection with a short haired brunette with a long flowing dress that draped the floor. We slipped into the bathroom and locked the door; frenzied hands stripping clothes from trembling bodies. In the midst of this ecstatic disrobing and in a state of extreme excitation, I discovered that my potential mate was a centaur. I was admittedly taken aback but with an erect genital organ and a cold mind full of dark Eros, I decided to do what I went in there to do. As I squared up to her backside hoping to not get kicked, she started shitting: foul, steaming piles of centaur shit. She stared me directly in the eyes and smiled, then she immediately started eating the dark brown shit by the mouthful. She looked up at me with her craned neck and with her mouth crammed to the cheeks with feces and asked if I'd like some. Not wanting to be rude and kind of intrigued, I bent down and put a bit in my mouth. It tasted like mythology and grain. Somebody was beating the door down, so we put our clothes back on and went our separate ways. I chased the centaur shit with another glass of Kentucky bourbon and passed out on the pier.