rrassing! It immediately brings to mind an incident which occurred to me about a month ago which, while not perhaps the scarifying tale which some of you posters may desire, does, I think, fit appropriately in the context of this moderated forum. It was kind of a turning point for me, as you'll find out if you care to read about it. I will try to provide a suitably detailed recounting. Somehow, it feels good -exciting, even- to tell this story. By way of background, I am a 31 year old woman; an aspiring nightclub singer in the evenings, and I work in a very classy office as the executive secretary for a high level banking/ money management executive during the day- and get well paid for it. I am golden blonde, very pretty and extremely shapely and buxom- a voluptuous. 5'10 (in stocking feet), with a generous hourglass figure, very full chested and with well curved hips and a quite large, very well-rounded and defined bottom as well which (fortunately) is proportional to the rest of me; and, due to its voluptuous fullness and superb definition, my prominent ass attracts an inordinate amount of attention from men- perhaps even more than the rest of me does.... I am a large woman, but my waist is only 32 inches. Flat ?????. Get the picture? I exercise regularly. It keeps my figure and it's good for my singing. I have great, full, shapely, sleek legs, which a stair-master and tai chi help keep shapely and strong. That ! also keeps my big, "bubble butt" behind firm, round and very well shaped; else, in all honesty, with my appetite (ILOVE to eat!), it would probably become too- too large.... I am very attractive to men and have probably become too choosy for my own good. I like big men, and they like me. Enough said. While I never gave in to actually admitting my bathroom interest even to myself -let alone to anyone else! (until now)- I did, and do- somehow and strangely in that connection in kind of an indirect, but definitely associated way, find a genuine, sexual excitement in making myself very attractive and as sexy as I can- in keeping with good taste, that is, but as a sex object, nevertheless; this somehow adds to my private, personal pleasure in my excretory functions. I don't know exactly why, but I think it may be some sort of scarifying paradox in 'taboo'ed contrasts or something. You should appreciate that notwithstanding everything I shall reveal about myself to this forum (which affords some anonymity, after all) I always- and still- try to act in the most ladylike way possible in public, and always contain myself completely, unlike some posters in this forum. I try never to use the ladies room at work for other than a brief pee and maybe a tampon or pad change during my ti! me of the month.. Everything else I do privately at home, either before I go to work, or after I return in the evening- or after a date. I must mention that often I have found it very stimulating to spend an evening with an attractive man, who is strongly attracted to me (usually a dinner-date) all the while- or at least after dinner- feeling a secret fullness inside me, an inner distention settling back in my lower intestines; creating a scarifying and strangely exciting paradox of contrast: a beautiful, glamorous, elegantly- sexily- dressed young lady (me) secretly holding back within myself an ultimately vile, full, load with no outward manifestation of the foulness contained and concealed inside me... I would kiss my dates goodnight with my perfumed lips while feeling strong distention and urgent pressure from a full stomach in a frantic digestive mode, and from an accumulated bulk of excremental waste and gas further down stuffing against the other end of my alimentary ! tract- a backed up ordurous column lodging in my rectum and loading my colon- held back inside me secretly; but trying to push out from between my big, plump buttocks after building up all evening! If my dates only could see me 5 minutes later or even imagine it! It excites me, what can I say? Well, about a month ago I was at work experiencing an otherwise normal day, except that I had had to come in earlier than usual for a special and important early meeting and, to be frank, I did not have a chance (the urge) to use the toilet at home real early in the morning, even though I hadn't gone for more than 24 hours. I am usually quite regular, but the previous day I had eaten like a voracious pig all day, if you pardon the expression. I usually eat lots, but this time I really outdid myself. Maybe that set me off schedule. And the previous night I had been out on a date and had further gorged myself silly at a very fine restaurant on a huge banquet of steak and lobster- surf&Turf, with all the fixings (including a raw/live oysters appetizer!) and champagne, caviar, pate, cheeses, 2 desserts, etc.. As I said, I am a big girl, and a healthy one; and I have a rather large appetite for good, rich, expensive food... My dates usually regret taking me out to dinner... It's re! al expensive! And, strangely, while I felt very full, indeed, I did not get the the feeling- the urge to use the toilet that evening, as I'd sort of hoped I would...I mean, my date was quite attractive, and all that... Well, this following morning, the previous day and night's feasting was not at all in my thoughts. I made sure that I was especially well dressed and groomed. I wanted to look particularly nice to the attractive, wealthy investors whom I knew would be at the meeting, as well as my previous night's date, who would also be in attendance. So I wore an expensive, custom tailored, tight-fitting, curve-hugging, sexy, cream-white knitted suit with short jacket, and its short, tight, clingy, skirt cinched around my trim waist with a snug, patent leather belt. It all seemed a little tighter, this day, than usual- either because I was pre-menstrual, or, I suppose it may have admittedly been a (slight?) effect from all my eating. If anything, the additional firmness of the fit of my clothes at my breasts and hips made me look a little more sexy! I wore rear-seam sheer nylons with a garter-belt and skimpy, filmy, sheer silk underwear. I looked great from behind! In the mirror I could literally see the full impression of each of my big, round buttocks bulging pertly and quite prominentl! y under the clingy, fitted, skirt material and I liked the the tantalizing way the clingy fabric stretched across the deep cleft between my firm, sexy ass-globes. My lovely legs were set off grandly by high, high-heeled leather italian pumps in a matching color. My long, soft blonde hair was combed out and swept around, glamorously (I like to wear my hair down), and my face perfectly, conservatively made up. Fortunately, I don't need too much cosmetic help in the face department, even at the age of 31, except that I use bright red lipstick-kind of like Marilyn Monroe. Under my short, trim waist-length, bolero style suit jacket I wore a sleek, light purple satin blouse, just low enough cut and just enough seen under the vee neck of my suit jacket to more than hint at my full, bounteous, jutting cleavage ( unnecessarily enhanced by a full uplifting underwire bra) without being genuinely vulgar in a business meeting. The lavender color went beautifully with my blue eyes and l! ong, golden blonde hair, by the way (not to mention my lightly tanned breast tops!). So I looked great in profile (voluptuous) and from the front as well! I wore a double strand of genuine black pearls, and black pearl earrings. I used Chanel No.5 in discreet amounts on my pulse-points. In summary, I looked and smelled stunning, and in a full-sized way; and none of the men at the meeting could take their eyes off of me- and that's the truth! Well, this meeting took all morning long; some five hours. Since it started at 7:00 a.m. a breakfast buffet table had been prepared at one end of the conference room near the window which looked out over the city 47 floors below. We all got up and generously filled our plates early on in the meeting. There were sausages, omelette, ham, croissants, toast, cheeses, fruits, bagels, etc.. in great quantity. I must have gone to the table 3-4 times. I love to eat, and this was a good opportunity... The food was scrumptious. I ate tons! I poured myself 3 cups of coffee as well, to stay alert during the course of the entire morning. The meeting was informal, but serious. There were no interruptions. Much money was at stake. Shortly after I had devoured my second, shamelessly heaped-up plate of food I (finally) began to feel some mild inner pressure from a familiar heaviness developing in my lower intestines. Steadily it increased, but the shifting-like sensation, while of fullness was! not an urgent cramping. Although I definitely felt an urge to use the facilities, and seriously, from the dull distention I was feeling, , there was no urgency, and I was getting the same kind of turn-on which I had from holding everything in during the course of a date, as I have said. So I did not mind the feeling. In fact, I was able to continue eating and, due to the presence of several very attractive men at this meeting, I really enjoyed the sensation! For most of the morning I felt that I would be able to hold out all day without needing the ladies room at work for this impending toileting interlude. I sat comfortably in my chair, my dimpled knees primly together, although crossing my full, shapely legs from time to time, occasionally pulling down on the hem of my short, tight skirt which had a slight tendency to ride up my full, stockinged thighs each time I got up (to reheap up my plate), reseated myself, or shifted in my seat voluptuously while leaning forward to e! at or sip my coffee; or while taking notes, or talking; and I balanced my file materials, my plate and steno pad on my lap. Without being overt about it I was managing to look quite sexy by arching my back, thrusting out my slightly exposed big breasts and by other such body language, and, as I said, I was a big distraction to every man in the room. Two other women attended the meeting, as well. Both were young, shapely, attractive and well dressed, wearing outfits similar to mine. And they had pretty good appetites too, I observed..as did the men....But, I must confess, I ate the most, and I could tell that most male attention was directed toward me. Well, by 12:30, the time the meeting (finally) interrupted for lunch(!), I was no longer under any impression that my inner need could be held any longer. I had to use the facilities- the facilities here! - My lower intestines- in fact my whole ?????, from top to bottom, so it felt- was by now uncomfortably glutted, totally stuffed; and for the last hour I was experiencing some mild cramping and a not quite painful but quite extensive inner bloating sensation, that led to an immediate unwavering feeling of a need as if to pass a really big fart (but, peculiarly, I could feel this wasn't gas- the immense dimension of the semi solid mass of excrement now backed up firmly in my rectum which I was containing within myself made it feel that way...), and a general lowering outward pressure pushing down to that certain, secret, bodily exit point deep between my seated butt-cheeks which I controlled valiantly, invisibly and, of course, successfully. In addition to that I had develo! ped a strong need to piss, probably from all the coffee. Nevertheless, I betrayed none of my dual inner travail to anyone in the room. In fact, after I arose from my chair I lingered in the meeting room, chatted with a couple of the men, exchanged unhurried pleasantries with one of the other ladies at the meeting, hugged my date of last night (feeling even greater excitement as he squeezed me around the middle -and nearly made me lose control!- because it occurred to me then that my secret urgent inner fullness, further compressed by his affectionnate arms embracing me was caused, at least partly, by the totally digested accumulation inside me of the unspeakably transformed remains of the many courses of the expensive, delicious food he'd paid for and watched me devour last night) and, when a suitable interval came, I began to make my way out of the room with a feeling of resignation, and was directing my steps to the outer office and then the ladies room. As I was walking to the door of the conference room , however, I passed very! close to my last night's date, who had since sat down. I happened to stop right in front of where he was sitting and turned to answer a question one of the women in the room coincidentally asked me as I was heading out. In doing so, without thinking or intending to do so, I shifted my hips and placed my prominent, jutting hindquarters quite close to my date's face, my large, curved rear-end squarely facing him. His nose could not have been more than 3-4 inches from the thin fabric of my tight skirt where it clung to the lush curves of my ass and stretched provocatively across the deep valley between the roundnesses of my big, firm, buttocks. Although this accidental situation lasted only a moment, and I was not aware of this until I turned to resume walking out of the room, it somehow really turned me on! The man's handsome face was inches from my ass- and how could he be aware of the enormous mass of excrement I was privately holding back - concealed within me another coup! le of inches or so further from his nose -inside myself. Well, after I left the conference room, since my purpose, alas, would be well known once in the ladies restroom, and since I presumed I would probably be in there for quite a while, from the feelings I was experiencing "back there", I had not a lot of self-conscious compunction about pausing briefly and looking through the reading materials in our outer- office waiting area, and picking up a "Time" magazine to take with me to the toilet, although my motive might have looked pretty obvious to the two or three men sitting in the area. But they couldn't be absolutely sure I was actually heading to the john, now could they? I gave them my most winning smile as if to deny this possibility while I bent down low and picked through the magazines on the low table in the center of the room. Mostly I felt their eyes riveted on my magnificent, swelling, bustline and cleavage, as I bent toward them, and then on my superb, rounded, ! prominent, behind, as I picked up my reading selection, turned and walked out of the room toward the hall, swaying my hips (just enough), my big, round buttocks marvelously defined under the stretched fabric of my tight skirt ( as I said, I had checked this out in a mirror that morning, as I usually do); shifting and jiggling provocatively with each step I took. I now needed to attend to my needs immediately. That feeling of fullness and urgency, together with the obvious attention the men in the room were discreetly (and in some cases not so discreetly) according me was by now a major turn on. I walked sexily to the door. My expensive, high, Italian designer spike heeled pumps arrogantly clicked and clacked on the stone floor of the hallway, as I left our carpeted office in high-heeled and tight skirted haste, still walking sexily, but a little more quickly, magazine in hand, poised, but purposeful, heading down the hall to the restroom. I smiled dazzlingly at the various pe! ople I passed in the hallway, and then pushed open the door marked "WOMEN". The restroom was smallish and crowded, a tiled space with 5 metal toilet stalls along the right wall, and 5 sinks and mirrors along the left. Several women were at the sinks primping and repairing their faces, and some three of the toilet stalls were occupied. Women in them were peeing and wiping. I smiled pleasantly, bobbed slightly and said hi to a couple of women I recognized, purporting to act offhand, although inwardly I was embarrassed about what I was about to do during the next several minutes. The magazine in my hand blatantly proclaimed that this very well-dressed, nicely groomed Blonde, improbable as it might seem, was about to take a shit. Oh well, it was unspeakable, but it was nature, wasn't it. I sighed, pushed open the door of an unoccupied stall in the middle of the row and with a clatter of my high-heels on the floor tiles, bustled in, noting that the low, wall-hung toilet was clean and that there was plenty of paper in the roll dispenser on the left side of! the narrow enclosure (I would need it). I turned my ripe body around in the narrow space and shut and latched the flimsy, pink stall door. I removed my short, tailored, bolero style suit jacket and smoothing it down slightly, hung it on the hook on the metal door in front of me. My low-cut satiny blouse shimmered purple in the bright, flourescent bathroom lighting...I scratched one of my swelling breast tops for a brief instant. It itched! Then I placed my legs and feet together as I bent and reached down with both hands, holding the magazine in my left, and grabbed the hem of my tight suit skirt and pulled it up with a couple of energetic squirms to get the already stretched material raised past the considerable dimensions of my well-curved hips and roundly protruding rump, and, with the skirt bunched up above my big butt- cheeks almost to the level of my waist I pulled at the elastic waistband of my dainty silk panties, carefully sliding the wispy undergarment with a slight rustling sound downward past my hips, the big mounds of my behind, garter straps, stocking tops, and halfway down my nylon clad thighs, whereupon I took a tiny step backward, stuck out my now bared rear-end well behind me, and sat down on the toilet, settling my large posteriors heavily upon the low, plastic toilet seat into a comfortable, behind-spreading squat despite my legs being necessarily held close together by my underwear. The wa! ll hung toilet fixture groaned slightly under my weight. In this low, seated posture, with my legs and feet together as I said, held so by my panties stretched tightly across my full thighs, widened by the pressure of the toilet seat beneath, I plumped and shifted myself a little on the creaking toilet seat with a voluptuous waggling of my behind to enhance the separation of my big buttocks already parted over the bowl. And I let myself -sighing with the pleasure of release- "open" my inner self to the toilet. One of my spike heels clicked and scraped a little on the floor tiles as I relaxed, and a small fart escaped my now swelling, exposed anal nub as I did this, a mildly embarrassing sound but unavoidable under the circumstances. I opened the magazine on my lap, leaned forward and began pissing fiercely into the toilet, as I felt my hind vent between my well-parted buttocks press out and open grandly under outward pressure from what my nether sensations for a long time ha! d suggested was a huge, particularly bulky length of loose shit which, with a slight shift, gassily burst forth, stretching me, slid, oozed, dropped and slopped in a muddy, heavy, interminable, barely formed mess out of me with a disgusting, loose, pllOOOOOOffeffefftshlufflufffbrtttffft-ffft-fftPLOPfffft-ffftPLOPffft-fffffft-fffftPLOP-PLOP-pipipippp... fluppfluppbrraa-POOT! in the toilet. It felt voluptuously massive, long and fat coming out, but I was embarrassed at the extremely noisy wet fart at the end of this passage. Suddenly another loud fart urgently pooped out of my ass, grossly resonating in the somewhat muffled toilet confines underneath me; and ended as another sludgy length of messy, claylike ordure ffflooompffffed out noisily into the pot after it as I continued to piss forcefully with a harsh tinkling rill in the toilet water. I attempted to occupy myself and allay my embarrassment by reading the news/ gossip in the Time issue on my lap as I shat, but was dis! tracted and dismayed by an almost instant awareness that my bowel movements were unusually smelly, even for me. In fact, the odor which rose from beneath me and enveloped my stall was about the worst and strongest poop stink I can ever remember creating or witnessing- and I had barely even started my dump! I desperately began reading about Monica Lewinsky as I allowed my active bowel to peristalt another gassy, fat, barely formed length of poo-poo out, with accompanying wet, slimy, resonant farting and slopping sounds as the filthy mess crackled and oozed from me, audible over the tinkling splashes of my now abating urination- absolutely awful, disgusting, filthy, embarrassing toilet noises: the process deliciously pleasant and satisfying to my internal abdominal and rear-most excretory sensations, but giving rise along with the obnoxious sounds to even more intense, unbearable, outrageous, stinks. Whew!! Filth!! ...The woman in the stall next to me hurriedly wiped, rearrang! ed her clothes and flushed. "Oh my lord, someone's dying in here!" I heard a woman say. People were evacuating the ladies room in a hurry. I could hear the outer door to the restroom opening and closing busily. Soon I was alone in the bathroom, in my stall, sitting on the toilet, reading, in the midst of the horrendous cloud of ungodly stink I was generating. Everyone else had literally been stunk out of the place. The Monica Lewinsky article on my lap was mildly interesting. I started to become absorbed in it as my intestines roiled, my stomach quietly churned and a gassy, stinking fart pooffed and pooorted wetly into the pot under me. As I read, I let nature take its course. Momentarily: pifffoorrpluffflifflufflipipploppliplop as hot excrement gassily and irregularly pooped and slopped messily out of my ass without any straining by me, and this foetid discharge hugely intensified the horrible stink in my stall and in the room. I concentrated on my reading. I turned a page. In spite of the gargantuan amount of excrement I had pooped out, I still felt full! And I couldn't believe the smell. God help anyone who comes in here now, I thought to myself, absently, as I read about Lewinsky's relationship with her lawyers... As I concentrated on the article which was interesting, my rectal sensations hinted at the relieving churnings deep in my intestines. Without thinking about it I remained relaxed, though I could have grunted and borne down. I just leaned forward a little more and let the full sensation deep in my bowels increase and shift on its own accord.... downward and backward in my body until ...without in! terrupting my reading.ffffiplopfluppploppiffffpOOOOOrt(!) ffpluppliplippOOR-plop-plopOOrtlilipsloop, a steamy, muddy, copious cascade of very sloppy shit-plugs and foul farted gas bombs profusely pushed through my relaxed anus and pouffed and piled under my ass into the laden toilet with powerful, fresh stinks arising from it. This was a very pleasurable discharge...I sighed with pleasure... I kept reading for another moment. My insides continued to churn quietly. Suddenly my attention was diverted by the restroom door opening and the rhythmic sound of high-heels entering the room. I must have blushed in embarrassment at the sound, aware of the extremely limited anonymity provided me by the stall enclosure I occupied. My stink was soooo intense..... And I heard the young lady gasp and say "Wow!... Whew!" But she didn't leave. She giggled! Then she sighed and entered a stall right next to mine! I saw her feet under the flimsy pink partition. I thought I recognized her voice. ! Her shapely, somewhat plump and sheer nylon clad lower legs and high, high-heeled gray leather (expensive) pumps turned around as she shut and latched the stall door and I could hear her starting to pull her skirt up with some effort, as her full lower legs shifted alternately forward and back. She was obviously dealing with a tight skirt. Her legs stopped shifting, and I could hear her struggling with pantyhose and panties for a moment and then, with a backstep or two, she settled herself on the toilet next to me, her feet stopped moving, and almost instantly she began to piss loudly, her urine gushing like an overflowing fountain into the tinkling water and porcelain under her with considerable intensity, the crescendoing torrential rush of her piss suddenly augmented by a thunderous explosive flubbOOOOOmphlupplupplupp resonating in the toilet beneath her. She continued to piss and grunted audibly. Momentarily a loud, weighty PfffffUUUuuulltPLOOP joined the urinary sounds.! It was an enormous bowel movement! enormous. It was disgusting. This woman needed to go badly. A slightly muffled POOoomphluppippippippippiPLOP of another massive evacuation resonated in the toilet under her as she grunted again and then sighed. Why did she have to sit herself right next to me? Intensely foul stinks wafted over to me from her stall, mingling with my own overwhelming contributions...and my inner sensations heralded another impending contribution on my part. It WAS turning me on, somehow- the filth, the stinks. It was crazy...I tried to relax. It was harder to do with another woman right next to me in the bathroom. The delicious feeling of movement in my bowels- of impending release - the turn-on- was tempered with embarrassment... How could I do something so disgusting-so foul- so private- in public- with another person less than three feet away? Her urination was slacking off but then suddenly increased for a moment as she grunted again and a POORffflufflif! ffifffPLOOOOFFFOOOOFFFFff................fffffipploopplip from another truly enormous excrescence of hers dumped in the porcelain enclosure under her and resounded obscenely despite the fact that this was mainly SHIT, not gas, but a lot of it at once. More really foul stink wafted my way. I think it was at this point where suddenly my embarrassment gave way to a sort of voluptuous forbidden pleasure in producing the kind of obscene foulness which my body was expelling in abundance. Sort of a reversed reaction. Where I had until now felt embarrassment of a supreme kind, I had emerged into sort of a scarifying grotesque state of sensuality. I arched my back, into a very sensuous pose and bore down hard upon my abdominal sensations. A huge, gratifying POOORPPHLOOOMPHFARTPLOPPPIPPLOPPPHUUUMMFF.....F exploded out between my seated buttocks and literally thundered beneath me -muffled fecal thunder- in my toilet: a hideous, stinky, huge and gaseous shit evacuation, believe me, rival! ling hers, which also left a substantial plug of soft, wet poo-poo which I could feel hanging out from my behind, like some awful, obscene tail dangling invisibly within the toilet . The woman next to me, who, as I said, I thought I recognized, pushed out another foul length of shit with a summary pfffeffuffflup as her pissing ended, with another audible grunt. Suffocating stink from both of us added to the stifling, filthy atmosphere in the restroom. I finished reading my article and riffled through some advertising pages as I could feel roiling in my ????? and another shifting buildup in my bowels. I grunted and pissed a little... Bbrr-plop!-AApp! My poop-tail exploded out under me, propelled into the pot by a short loud fart. The odor in the room was almost unendurable. Blabbaploomffflippfluppffffffplupp! from beneath me as I grunted again voluptuously. What a sensual, pleasurable feeling- pushing out a wave of loose shit-logs and gas. My neighbor in the next stall was grun! ting unashamedly, firm, slimy, slop sounds from her, a tiny wet fart, soft ploops in the toilet, more stink permeating into my stall. I turned a few more pages in my magazine. There was an ad for genuine silk stockings which caught my attrention... Finally, I felt the end was in sight. I farted out another copious wave of nearly diarrheic waste, which gassily and odiferously spouted, pooped, sputtered and splattered in the resonant porcelain containment beneath my seat. I pissed a little more. I strained and pushed out two more small thrusts of shit, and I was done. I reached around back and pushed the toilet flusher while seated. There was so much shit accumulated in my toilet that I could hear it almost clog, despite the excellent and powerful high pressure swoosh of water beneath me. Sluggishly, and with a struggling sort of clogged up regurgitating noisiness, muffled by the bulk of my hindquarters seated over the vortex, the toilet contents dislodged, shifted, swirled, gl! ugged and emptied away into the sewer pipes of the building. A powerful gust of additional stink from the disturbed toilet contents welled up from under me as the toilet flushed... I put the magazine down on my lap and reached over for a length of toilet paper which I unrolled and, lifting my left buttock off the seat, I mopped my ass-crack from front to back. I repeated this operation several times, finally becoming clean back there.... A loud, shitty fart resounded and plopped in the toilet in the next stall. a disgusting sound...Then I tucked paper down between my legs in front and wiped my vulva. There was a slight blood discharge. My period had just started. I opened my purse and found two tampaxes (I always use two), which I unwrapped and, lifting my right leg a bit, while still remaining seated, managed to insert in my vagina. Then, making sure the strings hung free, I let the tampax tubes drop in the bowl, and I turned and flushed the toilet a second time. It flushed better... I arose from the toilet, pulled my panties back up past my garters, which needed a little adjustment, and smoothed down my tight, bunched up skirt with a couple of wiggles ! to get the tight sheath down past my hips and butt. I could hear my bathroom neighbor pull paper off the roll in her stall and wipe herself. I felt good. My insides were well cleaned out. On a fastidious impulse, I looked into the bowl behind me. Unfortunately an embarrassing array of brown-yellow shit-skid marks streaked around the bottom of the toilet even after two flushings. One of the tampax tubes floated in the water, just beginning to unravel as water soaked into the cardboard. I put my jacket back on, unlatched the stall door in front of me, opened it inward, stepping back slightly and walked out of the toilet stall to a sink across the narrow room. I rolled up the magazine and wedged it between two sinks. My fellow pooper was still energetically pulling paper off the roll in her closed stall as I began to wash my hands. She must have wiped seven or eight times. I wasn't keeping track... I finished washing, and moved over to get a couple of paper towels, returning t! o the sink and mirror I had been using. I heard the woman stand up and start to readjust her clothing as I inspected my face and took my compact and lipstick out of my purse. Her high heels clicked and scraped on the floor tiles a couple of times. I was becoming quite curious as to who my dumping neighbor was...Just then, the restroom door opened and in walked one of the women who was attending the meeting with me with a loud, authoritative, click, click of her high heels. She was a shapely brunette dressed in a smart, tight, dark blue business suit which flattered her lovely figure; perhaps not quite as revealing an oufit as mine, but certainly the skirt was short enough above the knee to show her excellent, healthy looking legs... "Oh my!" she exclaimed with a crinkling of her pretty features as she sniffed the stinking atmosphere, and she repeated..."Oh MY!" I turned from the sink and faced her when she spoke. Our eyes met. Just a momentary thing... It was not a nice thing to do; quite a catty thing to do, really, but I shifted my head meaningfully toward the closed stall from which my neighbor was about to emerge, wordlessly suggesting that full responsibility for the stink was hers. As if on cue, the toilet flushed sluggishly within the stall and, after a long, purging flush, momentarily the door opened and, as it turned out, my good friend, Marcia stepped out. Marcia is the voluptuous "slut" of the office; 28 years old, flirting with everyone, big (just about as tall as me), blonde ( though not a natural, like me) and with a breath-taking full bodied curviness similar to mine-maybe even slightly plumper, and not quite as fit.... She flirts with everyone. She is a very successful financial manager/an! alyst. She is very pretty, and almost all the men in the office are obsessed with her. She was dressed in a sexy, tight designer dress; grey with a white hem, which her lush body filled almost beyond perfection. she exited the toilet stall and smiled a bright, attractive, toothy smile at both me and the brunette as she made final smoothing down motions over her form-fitting dress. Her grin became a bit sheepish. She giggled girlishly. "I feel much better", she said, and stepped to the sink next to me. "Wow, I really had to go!..... So did you, Gretel," she said with another giggle. I smiled at both women politely, admitting nothing. The Brunette also unexpectedly smiled as if she were a trifle embarrassed. "Excuse me, she said and discreetly walked past us to the last toilet stall in the row and stepped in, turned and latched the door shut. I watched her lower legs and shoes under the partition step back and adjust a little, as with a slight elastic rustle, and clicking of her high heels on the floor tiles, the woman adjusted her clothing and seated herself on the commode. For long seconds the room was quiet. Marcia, standing next to me at the sinks, reached into her handbag and took out her lipstick and compact, although I didn't think she needed any more make-up. "Gretel", she said, "where have you been keeping yourself?" Before I could respond she added: "I didn't see you at Tim's party the other night. Do you have another Gig?" She was putting her lipstick on, bending slightly, looking at her face in the mirror. I liked the form of her tight, sexy dress...I was trying to recall whether I had anything like that. "As a matter of fact, I had one but it cancelled. I would have gone to Tim's party, but I had a chance to eat at S-------'s." "Wow! Who'd you go with?"she asked. I didn't really feel like telling Marcia about this. Not yet, at any rate. That date is actually another story for this forum! Just then, a muffled fart resonated within the toilet in the occupied stall at the end of the room, and the sound of pissing tinkled in the bowl....the usual bathroom noises that most people screen out- I listen for them.... It reminded us both that we were not alone in the room. "Well, Marcia, you shouldn't get the wrong idea" "How wrong could I be?" Marcia asked with an innocent appearing smile and then a giggle. A big shit-plop and a brief toilet fart stuttered from the closed stall..as the pissing noises quieted down I smiled back "I wonder," I said with a smile. But Marcia surprised the daylights out of me, just then... "Wow! Hear that?" she whispered, suddenly looking past me over at the closed toilet enclosure with genuine fascination. Then she actually took a step or two closer. The lady's lower legs and high heels were stationary on the floor. It was all that was visible. "What are you doing?", I asked her "Gretel!" she turned back toward me and whispered at me conspiratorially,"I'm not gay or anything..You must believe me!....I don't know, I just find people going to the bathroom fascinationg-ever since I was a little girl." She smiled at me in a very private kind of way. It was exciting, but also quite embarrassing.. After all, she had walked in on me a few minutes ago during what I would call an ultimate "performance" on my part. It was disturbing but highly-scarifyingly -sensual... Raw....Gross...Exciting! She giggled uneasily. "I haven't told anybody about this," she confided and blushed slightly. "Please don't you tell anyone." I was finishing with my lipstick and compact mirror. I tried to conceal the fact that her confession had greatly aroused my own responses, since she had boldly revealed herself to be a kindred spirit. Was it so strange that she had done so? She and I were quite good friends; but I was not sure I wanted her to know that this bathroom business was a ! big deal to me, also..a shared interest. Did she suspect it? Why? Very surprised, I closed my compact with fumbling fingers, put the stuff back into my purse and turned to walk out of the smelly room. Hardly any sound was coming from the closed stall at the end of the row....I turned to face Marcia. She was now turned away from me facing the occupied toilet stall again... listening... "Marcia' let's us talk about this real soon. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow," I said. She turned and smiled broadly. "Okay," she said." How about an hour after lunch?" she winked. "How about lunch..And then let's see what happens.." "Okay." Actually, I was thinking about our luncheon and possible after lunch meeting (here?) as I left the ladies' room and walked back down the hall to work. Damn! I'd left the Time magazine on the sink. Someone else could read it, perhaps.... I smiled at my date of last night as he passed me in the hall...and wiggled my ass sexily (but discretely) for him as I walked by (I knew he looked) and made my way back to my office.
Tuesday, July 24, 2001
Some of you all need to read the policy on staying anonymous, it is paragraph 5.1.x.
and for the other two people who just won't quit even after having your posts dumped almost daily for just about a month, we now have a brand new FAQ item: 2.4 Sweating people: "I think you are so sexy...", "I just love your...", "hey ladies...", etc
Thou shalt not: covet, stalk, lust after, or become infatuated with other posters on our forums. This is an item we have very little patience or tolerance for. Not only are these activities tacky, and in extremely bad taste, we simply will not fill up a forum with these kinds of posts. If this is what you want, turn the computer off and go to a bar. If those same lines get a drink thrown upside your head in real life, how well do they really work? See also 4.3, 4.4, 4.6 and 4.6.1