I'm new here although I've been reading for a while but something really weird happenned to me when using a toilet yesterday that I'd like to discuss and there's no-one I can talk to about it.
I'm a blond 22-year old English girl spending the summer in Italy with some friends of my family. I was on my own at the beach in Tuscany in the afternoon and needed a pee. Usually I'd go in the sea but there was a campsite just nearby and as I quite enjoy the continental style toilets I thought I'd go in the campsite and see if they had them. Continental style is where there is just a hole in the ground with a place either side to put your feet. You just squat down like you were doing it outside and the pee and poop goes into the (flushable) hole. I like peeing and pooping outside because I like the feeling, and these type of toilets are much the same. They also often have the advantage of having a shower hose that hangs near the ground and which you can detatch and use to wash off the poop from your hole to get it nicely clean.
Anyway, at the campsite toilet/shower block the ladies section was being cleaned so was closed. In Europe people just use whichever section is open so I went in the mens. There were toilets down one side and showers and washrooms down the other, but no-one obviously around. I found myself a stall and went in and locked the door. It had brick walls right up to the ceiling so completely separate from any other occupants. However, it did have a gap under the door .........
I was only wearing a blue brief bikini so I pulled the bottoms down to my thighs and squatted down, facing the door. I was really ready to go so I let out a lovely warm strong stream into the hole but mid-pee I saw something appear outside the door next to the gap. The toilet was fairly dark and it was very bright outside so all I could see at first was a rectangular dark shape. It was there for less than a second before it went FLASH and I realised it was a camera! I went WHAT THE or something like that then it was gone.
I guess it was a guy, maybe he'd been hiding in one of the showers with the door open a crach waiting for girls to come into the gents section whilst the cleaning was in progress. He must have seen me and come over and I think probably turned the camera upside down and fired blindly under the door hoping for the best! Did he get my face (how embarrassing), my pussy, my pee? I shall never know - of course when I emerged after finishing off, wiping and pulling up my bikini bottoms, there no sign of anyone.
How do I feel about it? Initially shocked, then offended that someone had intruded on my privacy, then I started to be quite excited by it and wished I could see the picture! I've not told anyone because it's pretty embarrassing. I wasn't staying on the site so it's not as if I could have told the owners to perhaps stop it happenning to others.
How do others feel about it? Has it happenned to anyone else? Am I wrong to feel a tiny bit turned on by it?
Hi folks! I've been busy at work, finishing up a final report on my site visit last month. Also, not much activity poop-wise for me. I still go regularly, at least twice a day, sometimes three, but all regular solid motions. On Sunday I had a morning poop and pushed out a KIM-like monster of about 18 inches long and very thick.
This week we have a new tenant in our office building. I haven't figured out their line of business, but it involves data entry and a large pool of data entry operators, most of whom are female. So the ladies room has increased traffic this week. What was once quiet and tranquil now gets visitors constantly and is especially hectic during break times and lunch, since it appears all of the workers are on the same schedule. Yesterday I went into the ladies room four times, and each time there was either a poop smell when I came in or someone began to stink up the bathroom. The strange thing was that I had nothing to do with the smells! I peed three times and pooped once, but I pushed out only a couple of normal pieces with only a faint smell. As far as I can tell, the new office has early hours, and their workers go home at the beginning of the rush hour.
Like most people who post here, I have had a strong interest in watching, listening to or just thinking about members of the opposite sex (females) pooping. I have had this obsession virtually all my life. The earliest I can remember it really manifesting itself was when I was about 6 years old and I watched a 7-year old girl poop into a coffee can. That was just about the most memorable event of my early childhood. Of course all kids have an interest in body functions, but most people seem to grow out of it as they grow older. I am now well into my middle-age, but I have never lost my interest and excitement over the thought of females pooping. My question is why do I still feel this way? Why do other people who post here feel this way? I have a theory, but I don't know if it is right. Part of the reason I get so excited by the thought of females pooping is that it is something they normally keep hidden. Part of it is the thrill of seeing something that you normally don't see and that other people don't want you to see. But that's not the whole story. People also have sex in private and don't want you to see what they are doing, but seeing other people have sex is not as exciting to me as watching them poop. People shower and bathe in private, and they pick their nose and they do other things that aren't real turn-ons for me. But the special thing about pooping is that NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT. More specifically, women don't usually talk about it in front of men, and it is not something that is shown in movies and TV, etc. Sex is shown all the time in movies, so that's why the sight of someone engaged in sex isn't as thrilling. Most of the other things they do in private they will at least acknowledge or talk about. Even peeing is something that is occasionally discussed in public and referenced in TV and movies. Nowadays, many movies actually show women peeing. But pooping, and more specifically, pooping by females, is the big ta boo, the one thing that does not get shown or discussed in public. I think that is why it is so exciting for us. I think if everyone talked about pooping as openly as they talk about sex, it would cease to be a big deal and forums like this one would probably go away. Anyone have thoughts on this?
Hi guys! South America here!
First to anything, thank you very much, KIM and AUSTIN for your comments; they're very encouraging, and while Austin's comment is very cool (thank you one more time, man!) and his "program" on toilets is really interesting, Kim's line comes from a FULLY QUALIFIED expert girl, don't you?
And yes, as SARSEN says, it is not uncommon to drink what seems to be heavy amounts of water when you are climbing, and having 3 litres in the dinner is common practice for me. Think that, that sunday, I had had just a little amount of liquid (about one liter) between 9 AM and 6 PM, and it was essential for me to recover the lost fluids. Being in sub zero conditions doesn't mean that you are not sweating a lot, mostly if you are carrying a 29-kilos pack in a hostile environment and protected with thermic clothing that keeps one warm. Normally, when I go to high altitude peaks, I start to hydrate myself two weeks in advance, by drinking at least 5 litres of fluids APART from the usual 3 daily litres I drink when I'm not preparing anything hard. This make the body cells hydrated at their full, allowing to walk and climb without urgent need to drink for several hours, and sometimes, the whole day. The idea is not to feel thirsty when at camp and to feel and stay healthy. Mor! eover, having liquid water at high altitude means most of the time that you have to melt ice or snow, and to collect it at deep-freezing temperatures, so if one's in desperate need of water, it can be a very ugly experience. BTW, I personally don't drink coffee nor drink alcoholic beverages at all (I don't like alcohol) , and when at high altitude, these are banned from the mountaineer's equipment, as coffee is too agressive to the digestive system, any kind of alcohol turns dangerously potentiated at the altitude and can result, if someone gets drunk, in a death by hypothermia. Fizzy drinks are nonsense, as the gas expands inside the guts, and results in a series of problems, ranging from serious pain thru the inability to walk at all.
Now I remember a story related to this thing I witnessed at the end of 1997 (high summer here): I was making a light training hike (just 7 hours in all) to the top of a 4100-metre (13500 feet) in the vicinity of Santiago, and reached the top around lunchtime; about an hour later, and when I was about to leave, a team of 6 mountaineers from the Universidad Catolica (the trendiest in Chile) arrived to the top (very small, indeed); they looked strange, as they were equipped like going to climb Aconcagua Mt. but evidently lacked basic experience, as they started to have their meal accompanied with several cans of Coke and other fizzy drinks. I made a discrete remark about the inconvenience of doing that (but didn't insisted: I have the policy of minding my own business, on the basis that everyone knows what to do, and mostly if the others don't mind what you say). Within 5 minutes, they went pale, started to look weird and one of the 3 male mountaineers-to-be started to fart ! like crazy; the other 3 were fine-looking girls, and one of them started to fart crazily as well, with her face turned fiery red. Other girl farted so loudly that I thought that she had broken something inside her, and when she tried to walk away, she stopped after two steps and shouted : "Aaaahhh, me estoy cagando!"("Aaaahh, I'm shitting myself!"), while she filled her brand-new thousand-dollar pants with what seemed to be mushy poop and other liquids. The rest of them went through the same situation, and asked to me if that was because of drinking so much fizzy drinks at that altitude. I said that it was the most probable cause, but they were too ashamed and in pain to discuss anything. I knew that their problem was not serious, pointed that they better not drink the canned beers they had, and offered them my VHF radio in case they wanted to call for help, but they said that they would rest and try to descend later. I started to climb down, when one of the girls, half-hidde! n behind one of the rocks of the summit, let out the most scandalous fart I ever heard, followed by what seemed a splatter of shit, and a weep.
When I reached to my jeep, I kept there for about an hour until I saw them in the distance, trying to get back to the parking place, at a very slow but safe pace. Then, I returned to my home to have a sunday "once" (5 o'clock tea).
Enjoy your outdoor dumps while the summer last, guys and girls!
To Movie Poop Fan. I have seen clips from a movie where a woman in a leather dress takes a substantial shit. You can even hear her leather dress creaking as she pushes out the poo. Unfortunately I don't know the name of the film, but would love to see the full version
Aiyee Caramba…Carmalita no esta aqui! I go away on vacation and when I come back the forum has lost, momentarily I hope, one of its most treasured posters. We await her triumphant return. Via con Dios Carmalita! As many of you may recall…I have been relating the story of young Gruntly and my temporary nanny, Vickie, the college sophomore who was hired to watch me while my parents were on vacation. A situation brought about when I was kicked out of summer camp for hiding under the latrine and spying on two blonde twin counselors, who were having an early morning side by side dump in the stalls above barrels filled with poo dissolving chemicals. By shining a flashlight up the tube I was merrily watching their respective movements, when one of the girls looked between her legs to check on the status of her poo and saw the flashlight and they both started screaming, which led to my discovery and apprehension by the other camp counselors. (See earlier posts) At any rate, Vickie and I got into spying on each other through a door jamb slit I had made with my boy scout knife. Actually I started it and Vickie caught me, when she came to check on me while I was pretending to take a monster poop just to spite her one night and saw through the slit opening accidentally. We continued our game of peeper and mouse, until Vickie became constipated and overdosed on Ex-Lax. (See previous post). She spent the night having three bowel cleansing sessions…I spied on her only during the first…when she cussed me for peeping because she was trapped "en commode" so to speak. The next morning, Vickie dragged out to fix me breakfast quite haggard from her "Night of Running Poo." I didn't say anything, because I figured I was in big trouble…I was already grounded for the two weeks my parents were away. She fixed me eggs and made some tea and toast for herself, then sat across from me in her pink housecoat, her short, brown hair a bit disheveled. I kept looking down at my breakfast, waiting for the first salvo of her hollering at me for being a pervert, etc. Instead she sighed loudly and said, "Gruntly, we have to call a truce…I can't take anymore sessions like last night and we still have a week to go before your parents come home." I said, "Yeah I know," and looked up sheepishly at her, then I looked down and dropped the bomb, "But, ladies look so pretty when they are sitting on the toilet trying to do their business." Vickie gasped, "You mean you call last night pretty! Me bent over pooping my brains out and stinking up the bathroom?!" "I'm sorry, I said " but you're the one who took too much Ex-Lax." "How did you know that?" she started to yell…then sneered, "That's right you were spying on me!" "Well, you spied on me," I said in my defense. "And I found your little door jamb slit when you were making all those grunting noises like you were constipated and in pain. So I was just paying you back." "So, then I paid you back…I guess," I said looking down at my plate. "Your mother told me why you got kicked out of summer camp…for spying on those twin counselors, Gruntly…then you did it to me! What's with you anyway?" "I told you I think ladies look pretty when they sit on the toilet with their panties down, trying to have a poop." I answered. "Are you trying to say, I'm pretty, when I sit on the toilet? Vickie asked with her eyebrows raised. "Umm…yeah…kinda,"? I stammered and turned red. Vickie sighed and then said, "Why did you start doing this?" I asked her if she really wanted to know…she said she did, because at least I owed her an explanation, since I "Saw her in all her glory." So I told her about the time when I was five years old and I got constipated. It seemed everyone, especially my mother, was worried about me having a poop. The had me sit on the toilet and "try" to go…told me I had to grunt. It was really embarrassing…day after day went by and there was nothing happening…my mom would come in and check on me, when I was sitting on the toilet…my little bottom down in the toilet, perched on the seat, with my little legs off the ground, turning red with the strain. This went on until Mom called the doctor and he told her to give me an enema. So I had to lay on the bed on this plastic and get my bottom greased with Vaseline...then the tube and the water and soap and the pain, Mom telling me to hold it…then running to the toilet, making little steps to hold it in, the gushing soap and water back out, but no poop. I got a couple of these, with nothing happening…so the doctor decided I was impacted and he came for a house call (yes, doctors stil! l made house calls in those days). The doctor and my Mom put me down on the plastic, sheet on the bed…I was crying because I didn't know what they were going to do, but I soon found out. He asked Mom for some Pond's face cream. They pulled down my pants, bent me into position, he stuck his finger in the cold cream, then stuck it up my ass, with Mom holding him down, helping him. I turned hot red with pain and embarrassment…as he started digging around with his finger…then he pulled it out and a fetid poop smell permeated the room. I saw him wipe off his finger, which had white cream and a brown poo stain on, then dig into the jar again...and wham, back up my little hole. I cried and turned sweaty hot red again…this happened several times…it was really brutal for a five year old to have his poop dug out. Then to top it off they gave me another enema and stood their watching while I pooed out wave after wave of water and poop, with my sore little bottom hovering above the! toilet water. By this time I was red and hot from embarrassment after spilling out my story to Vickie and remembering the pain. Vickie reached out and touched my hand, with tears in her eyes and said, "You poor thing, no wonder you want to peep on everyone else…you just want to get back at grownups, for watching you and hurting you." I started to sniffle and said, "Yeah I guess…I don't know." Then Vickie said, "Did you ever tell anyone else this story?" I said, "Yes, my Aunt from England…and then I told her the story about how she took me into the ladies room of a department store when I was seven years old when I had to poo (See another previous post, way back on the forum). And how we became close friends after I pooped and she wiped me. "She wiped you?!" Vickie gasped. "Yeah…then she had to go and after she pooped I got to wipe her" "She let you wipe her?!!" Vickie almost yelled. "Yeah," I giggled. "She was pretty and had a big butt for me to reach under passed her garter belt strap as she leaned up to let me help her…but I didn't get any mess on her bottom. And she told me I did a good job wiping her. She and I got along great but she went back to England after two weeks and I haven't seen her since. She writes me letters and sends me post cards. She was pretty and had brown hair like you, Ms. Vickie. I told my Aunt about what they did to me when I was five and how they hurt me, she was real understanding, she hugged me and cried and told me I hadn't done anything wrong, that I was a good little boy. We even went to the bathroom together two other times before she left and would laugh about how each other made a bad smell in the toilet. My parents thought she was helping poo, they didn't know we were going together. I got real good at wiping her clean, please don't tell my parents what I told you, cause I really like my Aunt for making me feel! better," I pleaded. Vickie was wide-eyed in disbelief. She stammered, "Geez, Gruntly and you have been peeping on girls ever since." "Have you peeped on anyone else through that slit in the bathroom door jamb?" "Yeah, my other aunt and my Mom." "Your Mom!!!" Vickie practically screamed, "Yeah, Mom, sits on the toilet after breakfast, in her two piece pajamas. She pulls them down just enough to get her bottom on the toilet, so I can't see too much…of you know…her hair. She never strains or anything, but I hear her fart real loud sometimes. Then sometimes she waves at me, like she knows about the slit and that I'm hiding out in the hall watching, but she has never yelled at me. I guess she thinks I'm going through a kid's phase. After she plops out a few, she wipes from the back, looks at the paper and gets up pulling up her pajama bottoms real quickly. Sometimes she walks toward the door, like she is going to open it and catch me, but she never does…I guess she is trying to scare me." "WHAAATT," Vickie yelled. "Well, you asked," I said "Yes, but you are telling way more than I need to know!" Vickie blurted out. Just then my orange juice kicked in and I asked Vickie to be excused from the breakfast table to go use the bathroom. Vickie smiled and said in a tired voice, "Sure, I hope everything comes out all right." I turned a little red and ran off down the hall and quickly went into the bathroom, I pulled my jeans down, plopped on the toilet and farted vociferously. Then nothing, I thought I was ready, I could feel the turd in my back passage…I grunted silently…nothing happened, but another fart…I was afraid I was losing momentum so I went to Plan B. I began using this plan when I thought I might be constipated, so I wouldn't have to have an enema or because my fear that the doctor might come again, like when I was five and clean me out with his finger. I got off the toilet and squatted down oriental fashion holding on to the seat, trying to get the turd started. (It's a tricky movement, trying not to shit on the floor, while getting a turd started you might want to put some paper down if you try this for the first time.) I was just starting to dome when I heard Vickie moaning and running down the hall…she knocked on the door, twice while telling me she was having gas and needed the toilet. But on the second knock the door flew open and there we were, she bent over in her pink robe and me squatting beside the toilet. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TRYING TO POOP ON THE FLOOR?" she hollered. Apparently loosing her need in her surprise, while I jumped up from my squat and sat back on the toilet and out came my turd in the confusion, FLOOMP…the water splashing up and hitting my backside. "NO," I hollered back, "I just do this to get a poop started when, I'm in a hurry or think I'm getting constipated." Floomp, flump, flump…three more turds squeezed out of my bum hole and splashed into the toilet…fortunately, this ended my need, but Vickie just moaned "Oh no," bent over and rushed at me, grabbing my arm and pulling me off the toilet, shoving me aside, I almost fell into the bathtub, with my jeans and white jockeys around my knees. There was a swirl of pink robe and pink baby doll nightie and thighs as Vickie rotated around and plopped down on the toilet letting out a gassy wet fart on the way down, its sound changing as her hole went from above the toilet to into the toilet, making a deeper moist echo from Vickie's raw nether hole from having the Ex-Lax runs the night before. Vickie stared at my equipment and naked thighs and buttock quivering there in the confusion, like she couldn't believe what was happening as another painful moist fart escaped, FRRREEE! EAAAAAPPPPPP, phut phut phurt, berraaaappppplahhh, from her tender hole. She winced and groaned and had another gas attack. BBLIIPPP, BLIIIPPPPEERRRAAAPPP… "Ms. Vickie." I almost whispered, "can I have some toilet paper?" "Oh my" she said…I'm so sorryeeee" she groaned again BBLLLAAAAPPP, PLAAAH, PLAAAHHHrrraaappppppt. She stopped farting, sighed, said "Whew" and gathered some toilet paper and handed it to me. I tried to cover myself with one hand and wipe with the other, but I was in a half crouch and my butt cheeks were too close together to get a good wipe. Vickie, whose wet fart odors had spread through out the bathroom mixing with my poo odor. My poos were still floating in the toilet below Vickie's bottom. She saw my discomfort and stood up, her baby doll nightie pants at her knees, her robe dropped around her covering her nakedness and I saw her peek into the toilet at my floaters before I shuffled over to re-seat myself in order to wipe better. I took another handful of toilet paper and tried to concentrate on wiping with Vickie standing there leaning against the sink, with her legs spread to keep her wet hole from squeezing together and spreading the fart after burn around her ch! eeks. Just then my nervousness and the rest of the orange juice kicked in and a soft log began sliding down my back passage. I pulled the toilet paper wad away just in time for my hole to open and let it out with a krickle-krackle. "Well, well," said Vickie looks like you weren't quite finished, sorry I interrupted you." I was a bit embarrassed, but trapped on the commode and secretly enjoying my movement in front of Vickie. "It's OK," I mumbled as my bowels disgorged their contents, the soft serve picking up speed and ending with a FLIIIPPpp. I think Vickie was starting to get into the whole scene, because then she said half-mocking…"I guess you want your Nanny to wipe you like your Aunt from England did?" I got light headed and didn't know what to stay, but I heard my self stammer weakly, "Ah, umm ye…yes if you don't mind Ms. Vickie," then I went bright red at my boldness. Vickie thought a moment and said…"Well we've come this far and seen each other this much…and I have changed my brother's diapers, but he wasn't 14 years old…what the heck. She put her hand on my back and bent over me to get at my behind with some toilet paper in her hand, her pink robe brushing against my face. She gently wiped, three times while commenting that I ought to feel better after getting rid of that brown load. "Yes, thank you," I said, enjoying the gentleness of her touch. She flushed the toilet and I starte! d pulling up my white briefs and jeans and tucking in my green Babe Ruth League t-shirt, naturally I had a good buzz on by this time. Then Vickie sat back down on the toilet while the water was still filling the bowl, winced and farted loudly followed by the Pash… Pash of some left over poo from her Ex-Lax induced diarrhea. It stunk up the place and she said, "I hope that's the last of it," nonchalantly liked I was one of her girl friends enjoying a buddy dumping session. Her robe had parted and I could see her thighs and public hair, with her pink baby doll nightie panties stretched between her knees… "Ms. Vickie, may I, may I wipe you," I was sweaty hot and tight at the same time. "I promise I will be gentle, cause I know your hole is tender." She laughed, sighed and said, "I guess so, you've seen every thing else." I took some toilet paper and lifted up the back of her pink robe, exposing her buttocks and the rounded veer they made with the toilet seat oval, the smell was quite ripe from her last mini-poo episode. She leaned forwards to give me better access to her bum. I gently slid my hand with its paper down her butt crack, until I encountered her sphincter, which was tight and recoiled as I placed the paper against it. I had to dab gently and Vickie shuddered I did this and moaned a little. "Did I hurt you?" I asked pulling my hand away. "No, no, I'm just used to doing this for myself and its just strange," Vickie sighed. I put my hand back and her hole relaxed to give up its poo leavings as a light brown blotch on the paper. I folded the paper over and softly went back to work…another dab, then another…Vickie shuddered again and signed, her hole pooching out for another wipe, her white buttocks shifted as I worked and got her really clean. When I had tossed the last of the paper in the toilet behind her I flushed, she was breathing harder. She sat back on the toilet and said, "You did a good job Gruntly, looks like your Aunt from England taught you well…Now scoot, while I take a shower and you are NOT watching that!" I got to the door and looked back flushed with what I had accomplished. Vickie smiled and said, "Now push that slit in the door jamb closed…then she added something that made my heart skip a beat, even though it was already beating like a trip hammer, "If you are good, I might let you help ! me again." TO BE CONTINUED…
France 2001, Part 3
Travelling South from Lourdes, you pass through a town that sounds like 'Pair of feet' to English speakers. Further South is a town on the GR10 long distance path. From here a road leads into the Parc National des Pyrenées and ends just before a bridge at a height of 1496 metres a.s.l. This used to be an important route over the Spanish border 10km away. Nowadays it is a popular starting point for summer hikes. An easy 15 minute walk leads to a chalet/refuge with a small ski tow for winter. It also serves refreshments and was probably built about 20 years ago.
They have two sets of toilettes. The first are for customers and are only accessible from inside. The second are only accessible from outside and are unisex. There are three stalls, the first two with 'squat' toilettes and the third with two urinals. They all have 75mm gaps under the partitions!
Lots of hikers pass by while hiking back down the valley on fine summer afternoons. Some stop to relieve themselves, particularly women who are less inclined to go behind a bush or rock. Unfortunately, the afternoon I was there, it wasn't very busy as although the weather was fine up at 1500 m, there was cloud lying in the valleys below 1400 m so few people had come up that day.
There were only 7 users all afternoon, 5 of them women. Two Flemish speaking women in their 40s came in and took turns to use the stall next to me. The first obviously pees forwards because when squatting, she tilted forwards on tiptoe, supporting herself with her hand against the door so that her pee went straight downwards into the cuvette (bowl). This meant that she was almost in a kneeling position so her backside was well exposed for me to see under the partition. Her anus domed out, she hissed some gas and the tip of a thin hard looking turd started to appear but she seemed to be constipated and couldn't pass it. The next four women did fairly ordinary pees.
I gave this site a '4 plop' rating. Fine views but not very good light and too few users. I did find a better site the following week however.
Having safely returned from our Spain trip, there are quite a few stories to tell. We had a very good time out there, and it was very good to have Louise's mother with us too.
It will take us some little time to catch up with the happenings on the forum, so please forgive us for not responding too quickly. I think it will be next week now before either of us finds time to post again.
Ellie and Little Lou, welcome back. We had wondered what had happened to you.
To everyone we usually converse with on the forum, I thought I would fill you in on how yesterday, Louise fulfilled an ambition she has held for several months.
Driving back through east Lancashire, in the north west of England, we searched for something we had read about earlier in the year.
By the side of a very quiet, minor road just outside the village of Trawden, next to an engineering works with fields behind it and spare land to the sides, is a very old cast iron urinal. It was built in 1904 for the use of the Trawden Light Railway workers at the time.
Anyway, Louise spotted it, and I parked the car just a short distance away, and we got out to go to the urinal. Louise was very skimpily dressed due to the warm, sunny weather in her little white vest type top and very short blue skirt that really does show off her lovely tanned shapely legs at their best. While we were still in the car, she took off her little white knickers and handed them to me to put in my pocket. I was casually dressed in black t-shirt and jeans.
We walked up to the urinal. If ever the word 'basic' applied to any toilet, it was this one.
Outside, looking at it from the front, it was a black painted engraved iron panel, with side panels and a real panel. One walked through the gap either side between the front and side panels to enter. There was no roof, and the entire structure was about 8 feet tall all around. There was a sleepy looking row of around four houses opposite on the other side of the road, but that did not stop Louise going into the urinal with me. It did not actually say 'Gents' on it after all, despite its obviously intended purpose, and I don't believe it would have stopped Louise wanting to use it anyway! When she learned about the existence of this place, she just had to visit it!
On the inside, it was pretty much like the outside. There was a paved stone floor, with a rather clogged looking circular drain at the left hand end of the base of the front panel. There was no actual trough or gully at the base of the front panel, and it was obvious that urine was to run down the panel and onto the floor to run away down the drain. There were two tall dividers to split the pissing surface of the front panel into three positions. Oh, and there was the stale pissy smell - obviously it was still in occasional use!
Louise very much needed to wee, she had told me so earlier in the car. Lifting her skirt up, she took the leftmost position, stood about four feet away from the panel, aimed herself with her legs spread (oh what a view I had!) and she blasted the panel with a huge gusher, dropping her aim to the floor then lifting it again to give the panel a good dousing. Some dripped directly from her genitals onto the stone floor, but she must have gushed a full litre of urine. Not a great deal of it actually ran away down the drain. Most remained in a large puddle. She had flooded the place!
I took the central position, and in paying homage to the Rail workers of the early part of the 20th century, I took out my penis and urinated again the panel in time honoured fashion as Louise watched, still with her skirt bunched around her waist. The sight of her gave me a few problems as the flow dried up! My urine remained fairly static on the floor as well, and after taking one last look at the structure, we left.
The old urinal is actually a grade II listed building. For the benefit of people outside the UK who might not be familiar with the term, it is protected by law and cannot be demolished or altered in character in any significant way. Louise wondered if she was the first woman to use it. Who knows?!
We are still grinning about that little adventure - it was only later at home that I was reminded I still had Louise's knickers in my pocket! In the kitchen, she stood there with her arms folded, tapping her foot... <snicker>
Bye for now,
Hi everybody, this weekend I had a close call when I was out shopping for some new jeans. My mom and me went out on Saturday morning to town to get some new jeans. It was a bit of a rush as I wasn’t ready and my mom wanted to get to town before the bank closed. I jumped in the car and my mom drove off but I really needed a wee, I was holding the front of my black shorts to stop me weeing but my mom noticed and told me to stop holding myself, she didn’t know that I needed the toilet. I needed a poop as well but that wasn’t as urgent. I started to wee a little bit but I was managing to hold most of it in and as my shorts were black you couldn’t see any wet marks. When I got to town I quickly ran to the toilets and did a wee while my mom waited, I wanted to poop but both the toilets were in use and I knew my mom was in a hurry to get to the bank so I didn’t wait. We got to the bank in time but by this time my need for the toilet was getting worse and I could feel my poop moving t! owards my briefs. When we got to the first clothes shop some poop was sticking out into my briefs and I tried to pull it back in it broke off into my pants and more was still trying to escape. My mom then said let me look at the label in your pants to see what size you need. I thought she might notice the poop in my briefs or even smell it but she didn’t. I then did some more poop until I felt I could hold the rest in. My mom then gave me a pair of jeans and said go and tries them on. I took my shorts off and there was a big wet patch at the front of my briefs so I pulled up the jeans before my mum stuck her head round the curtain of the changing room to see if they fitted, I said they seemed a bit small so she said take them off and will go and change them for a larger pair, this was my problem, I couldn’t let my mom see the front of my briefs or the back as she may notice I had an accident, I took the jeans off and stood sort of sideways and tried to pull my t-shirt over my ! briefs, it must have worked as my mom didn’t say anything and we ended up buying the larger pair of jeans. On the way back to the car I had to pull my briefs from my butt as I felt the poop sticking to my skin, my mom gave me a nasty look as I did it. As we were driving home in the car I needed the poop again and ended up farting in the car, my mom can’t stand it when anybody farts and always makes a thing out of it ever since my sister farted accidentally at the dinner table when we had the family around. When she had finished moaning at me we were almost home and I was almost pooping in my pants. As the car stopped at my house I jumped out just in time as some poop forced it way out into my pants and I did a little wee. Luckily then my cousin Matthew walked round the corner so I able to go off with him so my mom wouldn’t notice anything. By the time I got back home my shorts were dry and I had scrapped a little poop out of my pants at Matthews house. Unfortunately that night! I got up to go to the toilet and my mom saw me in my briefs, as that’s what I sleep in, and she told me that it looked like I should put on clean underwear the next day but she didn’t tell me off so she obviously didn’t realize I had done a poop in them. She must have thought it was just a skid mark she had seen. Please post if you like to hear more stories about me.