Hello people ! I've just found some time to do a follow-up on my last posting a couple of days ago. ( Loo door gangs will have to wait a bit, because I,ve something far more important to tell you !). About five or six weeks after the toilet experience I had with the two cousins who were sisters, the next highlight of my childhood 'toilet' life was to happen. Again it was one of the two girls, the younger, Sarah. It was now summer holidays and school had finished. I'd gone into the village from the farm where I lived to visit my Grandma. On arriving, I found Grandma in her usual spot out in the garden. When she saw me she said "Oh good, I'm pleased you're here. Sarah is in the house somewhere, I'm looking after her for the day. But I have to visit a lady in the village, and she's being a bit awkward about coming with me. Were you intending staying for a while ? You wouldn't mind doing me a favour would you ?". Knowing full well what the next question was, I said of course I'll ! look after her until you get back ! " Oh, you are a good boy ! I may as well take the dog for a walk while I'm at it, I'll only be an hour". ( The part of the story just recounted is not verbatem, but as best as I remember it, along with the rest ). We both went into the house, where Sarah was sulking about having to go out. After Grandma told her what was happening, and I promised to read one of Grandma's Beatrix Potter books to her, Sarah's mood changed to one of delight. She snuggled into my side on Grandma's sittee, my arm around her, and my free hand holding the book ( I suspect it must have been the tale of Mr. Todd, being one of Sarah's favourite stories ). With only having one hand to hold the book, Sarah turned the pages for me. When we got to the end, I couldn't help myself, and had to ask about the events of five or six weeks ago. I asked her why she hadn't let me see her poo that day. She said "because I didn't need to do one when you were there". I said that Emma ! had told me she had gone straight after I left. She frowned and said that wasn't true, it was quite a long time after I left. I said, "Oh, I just thought you might have been embarressed about it, thats all", remembering how long it had taken Emma, her sister, to convince her to go to the toilet in front of me. "No, I was all right about it, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. Don't you believe me ?", she asked, beginning to look upset. Not wanting to upset her further, I said that of course I did, and was ready to change the subject when she went on "I'll prove it to you if you like, I need to go to the toilet now", and she jumped up off the sittee tugging my hand to help me up too. I simply couldn't believe this was happening ! I found myself saying "really ? you don't mind ?". "No, come on, quick, before Grandma gets home", she said. I did'nt need to be asked twice. At 11 years of age (Sarah 7), the buzz of excitement and anticipation I suddenly felt was completely overwhelmi! ng. My heart thumped like mad. I had been imagining what this would be like after last times 'failure', and now I wouldn't have to imagine anymore. But my heart raced all the more at the thought of Grandma catching us together in the bathroom. What to do ? And then I suddenly thought as I was following her up the stairs, the door in the hallway, when shut, always rattled with the breeze that blew through the back door when it was opened. I said "just a minute" and raced back down the stairs to shut that hallway door as an early warning mechanism. I heard Sarah say "where are you going ? I briefed her about the plan as I went to do it. She just said "well hurry up then". This only made the excitement more intense ! As rushed back up the stairs, she had already gone into the bathroom. I prayed that I hadn't missed anything, and dashed round the corner to the bathroom as Sarah was lifting the toilet lid. Thank God ! She turned and smiled at me saying "that's a good idea about the! door, I feel much happier now". She felt much happier ! I was completely delirious !! Maximum concentration could now be afforded to the events that were to unfold over the next three minutes or so ! (although it became a full event of 10 or 12 minutes, as the reader will eventually understand, if their patience doesn't run out !). A bit of background knowledge now. Grandma had one of those low-level suites, the sort where a tall person sitting on the toilet would be almost in a squatting position with their knees seemingly sticking miles up into the air ! It also featured one of those wide 'lakes' of water that seemed to cover all the lower surface of the bowl, with no porceline round the edges to pee quietly onto. The kind of toilet where your bottom (butt) is only hovering about four or five inches, if that, above the water after you've sat down. On that day, Sarah was wearing her sky blue shorts, the variety that reach about one third of the way down your thighs, and a ma! tching short teeshirt, revealing her bare ?????. From this point onwards, time seemed to go into slow motion for me. The smile having gone from her face, she placed the palms of both her hands down the elasticated wasteband of her shorts, just at the spot where the hollow on the side of your bum cheeks can be found. Keeping her thumbs on the outside of the elastic she slid her shorts downwards about two or three inches, just below the lower line of her pink panties, before then folding the elasticated band over, and continuing the folded down movement about 8 inches down her legs. I'd noted her folding down her trousers the last time I watched a few weeks earlier. She had only gone about six inches down her legs last time. Her shorts were definitely lower down her legs, probably to give her more room for pooing I thought at the time, with this intriguing folding of the shorts leaving the lower, blue end of them about two inches above her knees, and the folded down white, insid! e out part about two inches above this, the whole thing probably taking up about four inches max of her legs. Before she pulled down her panties I asked her why she did this. She gave me a matter-of-fact look and said "Mummy does it like this". Hmmm !! However, when she reached to pull down her panties, the same courtesy was not extended ! They were simply pushed down to be about an inch above her shorts, and perhaps seven inches from the top of her legs. Yes definitely a bit more room. She bent to sit down, and being such a low toilet, she was able to sit on it properly, placing her hands on either side of herself and hitching herself about until she felt balanced, and the balls of her feet were left comfortably pressing on the floor. She was still close to the front edge of the seat, but not quite as close as before. Her knees well forward of the seat, they were probably slightly higher than the top of her legs due to her kind of 'standing' on the balls of her feet. She had ! such a lovely straight back at this point, but once balance had been established, she allowed her shoulders to droop enough for her to rest her arms on the bare tops of her legs, with her hands clasped together in the centre, resting on the elastic waist of her panties, indenting them downwards, and forwards just a little. She was certainly a pretty little girl, with her hair going a bleached blonde colour from the exposure to the summer sunlight. With no change in her facial expression, I heard her wee start to come out after a wait of around five seconds. It was audible all the time, due to the lake of water in the bowl below, as previously described. Much to my childhood surprise, it still whispered and whistled ( so this wasn't because it was running down the inside of the bowl then, like I thought before ! ), and the sound it was making, I can only describe as being like tipping a watering can with that device you can attach to the end of the spout that makes the water se! perate into dozens of little sprinkles, into another bucket of water. Thats exactly it, a beautiful, delicate sprinkling sound ! I listened hard for any plops, but none came, only the whispery, whistling, sprinkling sound for about 20 seconds, which then started to fade away until just a few drips were heard, and a sudden, and final spurt of wee. Or had that actually been a plop ? I couldn't ask, and spoil the quite ear-splitting (!) silence that there was in this bathroom, revealing absolutely every sound there would be to hear. An great age seemed to pass then when nothing at all was happening. My mind raced. Had I got it all wrong ? Of course ! she said she needed to go to the toilet, not that she needed a poo. I must have got my wires crossed, and she was simply proving that she would not be embarressed to go to the toilet with me watching ! Damn ! This was the disappointment of all disappointments ! However, this passed very quickly for me, because I had still witnessed a! very wonderful and unique occasion in my life, and besides, now I knew she wasn't embarressed, perhaps there would be a next time ? Perhaps I could ask her right now to take me with her another time, if there ever was to be a next time, and perhaps, if I was very lucky, she might poo then. The silence was broken. Sarah said "I like having a poo at Grandma's, because it doesn't splash your bottom like it does at our house". I felt I'd died and gone to heaven ! I watched and listened hard again as she took in some breath, and then held it. As I glanced at her ?????, I saw it begin to squeeze, then it visibly relaxed, and she lifted her arms up and folded them across the top of her ?????, sitting up beautifully straight again before appearing to press her arms down on her ?????. ( I resisted the temptation to ask if she would like me to press and rub her ????? for her with my hands. I suppose it was a general feeling inside me that I shouldn't touch her. this was a watch and lis! ten occasion only ). Her ????? began squeezing again. After 10 or 12 seconds of holding her breath, I saw her ????? relax outwards and she let the air come out of her mouth, with no vocal sound at all, just a kind of pant. Another deep breath through her mouth, silently holding it again, ????? contracted, and then that fateful moment only two seconds later. ffflop. You could hardly hear it, but she had definitely done a poo. That first poo out was immediately followed by her breath coming out of her nose this time, before she opened her mouth and took in another deep breath. I couldn't contain myself any longer, and I had the first accident I ever remember having, slightly weeing in my pants. I didn't care ! Five seconds after that third intake of breath there was another barely audible ffflop, exactly like the first. I peed my pants again, a bit bigger dribble this time. Only another five seconds and there was a very distinct plop of a final little poo that hadn't reached the! water before it dropped out of her bottom. She let her breath out through her mouth again straight away, and, wonderfully, I began peeing almost out of control before she uttered the words "thats it, I've finished". And then she saw it. "Have you wet your trousers ?" She smiled with complete delight and said "I thought only girls did that". She got up off the toilet and took some toilet roll which she held over her bottom, and then said, "quick, before you wet the floor". I pulled down my trousers and pants to my ankles, and stood over the toilet. There, in the bowl, were three poos, two sausage shaped ones about six inches long, both laid hugging, side by side, with a quite dainty little ball-like poo sitting on top. I peed for all I was worth again, and felt Sarah put her free hand and arm around me as she peered round and watched me going instead ! When that snaking line of water actually did end, I felt I couldn't move. The urge and pain to want to wee much more just didn! 't seem to go away, despite the fact that I had peed every last drop inside me. I must have stood there an age before Sarah lifted her gaze upward to me, and with a strange look of complete sympathy and understanding about my accident, she said "have you finished now, I need to wipe my bottom". The pain if it had been subsiding was back with avengence ! I said I didn't know. She then said "tell you what, let me know if you need some more, and I'll get out of the way again". She shuffled herself in front of me and sat down again on the toilet, I stepped back two or three steps as she peeled a line of toilet roll from the holder. She took about a third of the line pulled off, and laid the rest across her lap, before scrunching up the third taken and wiping from the front between her legs. The second portion she scrunched exactly the same, but then wiped her bottom from behind her back. By now, my tears were clouding my eyesight. The final third of toilet roll was again used in t! he same way behind her back before bringing the paper out to the front to examine its cleanliness. I had no hope by now of being able to focus on it to see for myself it was clean or not. However, seemingly having satisfied herself, she popped it down into the toilet bowl between her legs and pulled up her panties, and then very very carefully lifted her shorts into place. The pain now seemed a very distant memory, and as she put her hand on the flushing handle, she asked "have you finished needing a wee now", to which I sobbed, before saying yes in a broken voice. She turned and looked at me and with a look of alarm on her face at first she said "Ah, you're crying, don't cry" and then with slight amusement in her face, "I thought only girls did that as well" ! She moved forward to hug me, before stopping in her tracks and first looking downward at my still bare midriff and then up at me again. I quickly bent down and pulled up my still wet clothing, and she immediately came u! p and hugged me, not seeming to care if she might get her teeshirt wet on my wet patch. I cryed all the more, and she continued to hug me, shushing me at intervals, and saying things like "Its alright you know, we all have accidents". Little did she know that my tears were nothing to do with my accident at all. They were only because I loved her to pieces for letting me share such a wonderful and beautiful, and yet deeply personal and private occasion that I was so lucky to have witnessed. But of course, being a boy, I couldn't tell her that. That would make me a sissy ! Two weeks later, Sarah (and Emma's) Mummy and Daddy split up and got divorced. I never saw her again in ten years, until Grandpa's 70th birthday party. She was already there when I arrived, a very beautiful 17 year old now. When I came into the room, she saw me straight away, made her excuses to whoever she was talking to at the time, and came over to me. After a couple of seconds, she reached forward and gave! me the same big hug I remembered before. She still reached only the same place with her head at the lower end of my chest, but she had definitely grown, seeing as I am 6ft 2in now in adulthood ! She looked up after 10 seconds, and smiled, saying "no more tears kiddo" ! The subject has never been raised again since, and I certainly would not want to see her on the loo in her adulthood, even if she would let me. The experience we shared could never be topped, and must never be spoilt by attempting to physically recreat what is some of the most valuable memories that we have, those from our childhood, when we were ( certainly in my case ) innocent of any sexuality in an adult sense, and free from other impinging, adult attitudes that we no doubt all develop as time goes by. Sarah, I'm certain you will never read this, but I love you very much for what you did for me, for this wonderful memory, and for the beautiful person that you were then, and have now become. You deserve the ! absolute best. Love Andrew. P.S I have needed to tell this story all my life. To everyone out there who has managed to read this awful long posting to the bitter end, my sincere thanks. I hope it has managed to strike a chord with some of you, and I would obviously welcome any comments anyone would like to make. Love Andrew.
Does anyone have any Halloween stories that involve pooping?
Sunday, October 31, 1999
COOL! I just discovered this site while surfing the web with a browser, using the keyword "piss". I'm just in awe! I've only gotten online in the past few months and finally got a computer of my oen a few weeks ago. I'm a peeboy, and a wetter, and it's as ironic as anything that I'd just let some hot piss go in my cargo pants as I clicked on the link for this site. I was having so much fun searching, why get up? And now I'm having so much fun reading, I don't care to get up for the rest of it! I enjoy letting a little go avery few hours to keep a little wet spot in my pants. Best in summer when it dries almost instantly, and also in deep winter (northeastern U.S.) when dual layered long johns soak it up straight away. I already know I'll be back to this site! Thanks, Rich.
'Tour de France' Part 1
Three months after our honeymoon, my wife and I went for another vacation, this time with a lower budget. We went for a cycling tour in France with two other girls and stayed in youth hostels. In almost every country, youth hostels have separate male and female dormitories, separate wash rooms and separate toilets but not in France! (More about that in Part 2.)
The youth hostel we stayed at on the third night was an 18th century chateau. There was only one shower working in the mixed wash room on our floor so we showered together and washed each other (you should try it some time). By this time, we were both getting rather horny but as we were sleeping in dormitories all week, there wasn't any privacy.
We went out for a walk in the grounds of the chateau and were getting a serious urge to do what newly married couples like to do. We found a very large and dense rhododendron hedge and we climbed inside. It was nearly dark so we! needed a torch (flash light) to find a way in. Inside, it was completely seculded and no-one else could have found us there.
Before we got started, my wife said she needed to go to the 'loo'. Instead of going back into the YH, I suggested that she should do it right there but she hesitated at first. I guessed what she wanted to do although she never uses words like 's**t' or 'p**p' or anything like that. She squatted down, did a wee then a small poop. We buried it under leaves, she wiped herself then we got on with the planned activity. She remarked how horny I was that evening. I said it must have been the shower we took together and the ambience of being 'en France'. It was our first time 'al fresco' and very memorable.
I have been a regular reader of e-mails here for a number of months. An experience recently prompted me to post. I was on a DART train in Dublin (Ireland) and behind me were two girls. I was reading a book and was therefore not really attracting any attention from them. I was amazed at the frankness of the discussion and the crudity of the language. The gist of the conversation was that one of them was in urgent need of a toilet.On this board we tend to use terms like "poop" and "crap" to describe the bodily function. The girl who needed the toilet - I think her name was Orla, said something along these line. "I'm bursting to do a shite". I've been hanging on all morning". Her friend giggled and said something like "You better not do it here", to which Orla replied,: "I'm desperate, I'm nearly shiting in my knickers". The train then came to the next stop and they got off. I've never heard girls being so graphic in their discussion about having to go to the toilet.
I! would be interested in hearing views of posters about their experiences of how their friends refer to the number two function. Americans appear to be very coy in their terminology.I would also be interested to hear from females about their phrases and what they have heard their friends using to describe the term.
I was wondering if you stand up or stay seated to wipe you butt after taking a crap?
Rick, if you've been taking medicine, some of those things can stop you up, especially things like antibiotics which kill your intestinal bacteria or antihistamines which dehydrate you (at least, that's what they do to me). Also, you might be dehydrated if you have a fever, or if you're used to a lot of exercise and suddenly aren't getting any because you're sick, that can throw your intestines off as well. When I'm really sick, I can't eat, which means I don't poop either - at times like these I've gone up to a week without pooping, and normal 'activity' begins only after I start eating again. Otherwise, I poop pretty normally unless I'm taking medicine.
Steph: I saw your post last night actually. I think that it's been nice having you as a "net friend", but more importantly, I think you are a highly intelligent, and well spoken woman. I could imagine how pleasant it would be to sit and listen to what you have to say for hours on end, or to trade discussions on almost any topic. What you say not only matters, but is interesting and comes as welcome as sunlight to the flowers. I would have to agree with something Jay said a long time ago, when he referred to you as being a "ray of sunshine" on this forum. You are that. For those who haven't felt that sunshine, what a loss that must be.
Other than that, I haven't got much else to say tonight.
I'm very busy again. I'll stop to catch my breath this weekend hopefully.
I'll be talkin' atcha on the other forum.
Ryan>> When I was in highschool in the late 70's, there was a class I took after lunch in the afternoon in Industrial Arts. There were many times when I would have to go take a dump, and while doing so, being there were two toilets with doors on the stalls, I would occupy one, and then another person would come in and use the other. On many of those occasions, one of the guys that was on the school wrestling team would come in and use it. He would come in and sit down and proceed to dump a load by little "plops", generally doing about 15 of them before he was finished. I only knew who it was, because I had taken a look at his shoes and after he had left, and then I a couple of minutes later, as I would walk around the shop until I spotted the shoes he was wearing.
On one other occasion, in the main building of the highschool I went to, there were no doors on the stalls except for the handicapped stall. One of the senior class football players ! walked in, while I was taking a dump, said hello to me, as I was in the last stall next to the handicapped one, and he walks into it, shuts the door, and proceeds to take a dump. It was kind of like an echo chamber in that restroom, as either one of us would hear a plop from the other, and the other would reply with a plop of his own...It was a turn on for me as well then, as I never did see the end product of his, as he flushed when he was finished...
Thank you to those who responded to my last post, about my big poop that I did last week. I did another big one a couple of days ago. It is strange, sometimes my big poos make me have an accident, or almost have one; but sometimes they make me strain and grunt because they do not want to come out.
I did a grunter on Weds. It was so big I thought I was going to pass out. I came home feeling the need to do poo-poo, but it was not urgent, just a full feeling. I decided to have a snack and did some homework. As I was doing math, I was laying on my ????? in my bedroom and it was so uncomfortable because the log was pressing against my stomach or something. So I headed for the bathroom. This bathroom has a mirror across from the toilet, which is kind of neat. And a stack of my magazines. I pulled my jeans and panties completely off and sat down. I knew this was going to be a big one and did not want to be bothered with jeans and panties. I like! to spread my legs wide when it is going to be difficult to poop.
I peed for awhile, then started grunting. Nothing was budging. So I strained more, actually making noises as I bore down. The mirror revealed that I was red faced, with a vein popping out on the side of my forehead. I could feel the tip of the big poo start to pop out, but my little anus would not let it go. I continued straining and grunting, and finally decided it was going to take everything. I clenched my teeth and bore down as hard as I could. I started to sweat and the room started to spin a little, like I was going to pass out. Just when I was going to give up so I could not be unconscious, my anus gave way and the poo started out. Oh shit, it was so big, I was almost ready to give up again. My butthole hurt so bad, but I knew I had to get it out, so I concentrated to keep from screaming and it finally eased up a bit, then sped up as about 15 inches of thick, smelly poo dropped into the ! toilet. It made my butt wet. I wiped my tender anus, and my vagina (from pee). Then I put my panties on and gingerly walked back to the bedroom, where I laid on my side until my anus was feeling better.
That was big, but I have actually done bigger. Sometimes I wonder why I wait so long?
Greetings. I have been too busy to visit recently, but something recently struck me that I would like to share. I find that whenever I go out for a meal in a restaurant, and it does not matter whether it is lunchtime or dinnertime, as soon as I get home, I have to go for a shit. It does not happen if I eat at home or at work, only if I go to a restaurant. We went out for an excellent dinner last night (ostrich followed by salmon and scallops followed by venison followed by dessert), and as soon as I got home, farting all the way, I had to rush to the toilet, where I produced a huge quantity of near diarrhea, very very soft and very very smelly. It was clearly not due to the exotic food that I had just eaten. What is it about eating out that makes me want to do my business?
HEATHER: You make such wonderful sense! I can't imagine our ancestors doing this modern culture-based totally-formatted urination thing... Yes, standing up is much more sanitary, you don't need to touch a thing to relieve your bladder, and it's a darn site easier on your back than this "hovering" pose they seem to think is the only feminine standing solution. Nonsense! I've said it before and I'll say it again, the so-called "female urinal" is a money-making device for a cloistered society that doesn't actually want to talk about a "dirty" subject, and won't understand a simple little truth (it impinges on macho preserves). The same urinal will serve both sexes perfectly adequately (so long as they are mounted low enough for women to reach! I speak from experience!) because women, or at least 70% of women, are amply capable of producing a controled, forward stream, with minimal practice. How did the silliness get started? Cultural control, probably an archaic male precept for ! controling females. Program it into them hard enough, they teach their daughters, and after that they think a) they thought of it themselves, and b) that's just how nature made females... Well, nonsense to that! You, me, and all those who've woken up to this ridiculous notion, have started to dispell what must be one of the most pervasive myths of the modern epoch. Keep those urinals brimming, PV
I saw some people talking about having accidents during intimate relationships in some older posts. I had an embarrasing incident just after high school, in the early 1980s. I hope this does not offend anybody, I certainly did not plan it!
My boyfriend at the time and I were trying something new; so we could reduce the chance of pregnancy we were trying anal lovemaking. It was my first time, and I did not know what to expect. It felt pretty uncomfortable and I could tell it was having an adverse affect on my bowels. As he exited, I had no strength back there, a 7 inch turd and several farts followed before I could stop it. All over the floor! he knew right away and of course I did also. I was mortified. We broke up a short time later. This is the first time I have told anybody else this, and that is not my real name, but it was just too embarrassing. Hope I did not offend anybody!
A strange thing hapened today. I am normally very regular, twice a day, but after lunch when I usually go, I couldn't feel the urge. I went to the loo and just peed. During the afternoon, however, I kept having to break wind. Mostly they were silent, although a little smelly, but a couple of times they were audible, and I had to apologise. I went to the loo again, but only pee. This evening after dinner, I did get the urge, and I had a mammoth no.2 session. It took about 15mins in all (I was listening to "The Archers" on the bathroom radio). I was dropping poo after poo, each time thinking I had finished, only to get that feeling there was more to come. By the end, there was a huge pile in the pan, with logs sticking up out of the water, and it was more than a little bit smelly! I couldn't get it to flush, in fact I thought it was going to overflow at one point, so I called my husband and he eventually unblocked it with the help of a stick from the garden.
I have just retu! rned from a trip to the supermarket and we could smell it as soon as we walked in the front door, and hour and a half after the event. Is this a record?
Lots of really good posts recently especially from new visitors to this site. I am always puzzled by stories of people who do their no 2 in the shower. Surely showers have small drains or grilles which would get blocked. Could anyone explain this?
I liked the story from James who said he got home with pants full of poo and then sat on the toilet do do a wee. Cool!
About 2 or 3 months ago I was posting to this site about how I was trying out pooing in my pants for the fun of it. Well, eventually I felt I had explored that experience enough for the time being and haven't been doing that recently. I've been using the real toilet instead of using my underpants as a toilet.
To change the subject, I used to be able to hold off for two or three days before I had to do a poo, and then it would be a really exciting experience to do it, stretching the a***ehole, pushing hard to get it out, the sense of relief, the warm feeling inside afterwards et! c. At present I just don't seem to be able to do that. I usually poo at least once sometimes twice a day now, so it's a bit of an anti climax. I'd really like to hold it in for days and then have a huge exciting dump which I could tell everyone about, but it's not happening. BTW isn't the internet wonderful? we can tell each other intimate details about our toilet habits, things which in some cases we probably wouldn't even say to some of our best friends. And people all over the world can read it. And I agree that this is a really friendly and well-run site. It's nice to be among like-minded people.
Enjoy your toilet experiences, everyone
Friday, October 29, 1999
I have been under the weather for about a week now, a mild touch of the flu. I do not get sick a whole lot, but when I do, I suddenly become binded up and constipated. I mean, I do not crap for 4 days or so and when I do, it is a rock hard dry turd. Man, I grunted for 5 minutes trying to get that thing out! I cannot use enamas because I live alone and I just cannot bring myself to giving my self one up the arse. I always drink lots of water but it does no good. Is there anyone else out there who gets twisted up in knots when ever they get sick? Can any one shed some light on what causes someone to get so tied up? Stay well folks!
Daniel: I had a really great dump the other night. I hadn't gone in sever days and that whole afternoon was a drag holding it in. I don't like take a dump when the family is around. The only time I will dump when they are around is when they are asleep. Well that's when this dump took place. It was about 10:30 at night and I was really desperate. So I walked into the bathroom looked at the toilet then turned around and pulled my jeans and breifs down to my ankles. First came out a little fart and then some crackling. I pushed with all my might. It started to come out a little and I knew it was going to be large by the urges I had earlier in the evening. I pushed a little more and it became very painful. So I stopped and took a break. I sat there with a turd stuck in my analhole for 2 minutes and then pushed some more. Nothing was happening. I let go of it thinking maybe if I break that little peice off I could get the other part out. Well it happened a little differently. When! I pinched my turd the whole thing just shot out of me like a bullet. It hurt so bad that I sat there breathing with relief and waited as my sore analhole was in pain. Finally it got better and I decided to get the rest out of me. I pooped 2 little logs. Not very wide and not very big. Well as I finished I looked at the size of the main turd and though "No way this thing's gonna go down that drain." So I grabbed the turd and broke it into 5 smaller pieces. Then I wiped and flushed. Everything went down ok. I washed my hands after that. It was really great. Daniel please do tell me some of your great experiences pooping at school when you were in school. Or tell me some experiences hearing other boys taking a dump in the stall. I love these stories the best. They give me a turn on. The last time I actually hear and saw the somebody was on the toilet was when I was in 4th grade. Me and two friends went to the boys bathroom and me and one friend went to pee as the other friend ha! d to poop. He went in the stall and I saw him pull down his jeans and underwear. I think he really had to go because I saw he feet and they were squirming around in weird positions. Then he started kick the wall. I wish I would have pooped with him. It would have been a really great experience. It makes me depresssed that I can't see anybody taking a dump anymore. It really does.
SHIVERSILK: Welcome to the league to standing-peeing women! Practice makes perfect, and I for one would love to hear of your adventures! So yes please, post away! PV