My Burnin' ButtLast month the youth of three churches in our city reserved space in a city park for a Sunday afternoon and evening of activities. We planned to have three different sports going at one time. Genderwise, we were probably 65/35 with more boys so that meant that we were going to play some rougher games. What we didn't expect was the temperatures: it was 97 at noon and 107 later. Our pastors and parents emphasized lots of water so we literally had 4 kegs of water donated by a local bar. Plus we had lots of sodas and flavored energy drinks. I remember in our last planning session we were surprised and happy that the city gave us a free portable potty unit. The nearest bathroom building was about two blocks from us and when we've used those toilets before they've had multiple flaws.
Since I was on the setup committee, I had to report three hours early for work. After the kegs were delivered, our officers were starting to drink so much of the water that we were warned to leave some for the 100 or so participants. After finishing preparations, my jeans shorts and partial cut-off top were dripping from sweat. I also realized that I could no longer hold my pee and crap especially since our guests would be arriving soon. I had noticed the portable potty had been positioned away from our playing and picnic area. It was facing the east which meant more privacy for those of us who would use it. So I hurried across the fields and up and over there.
Everything looked great as I walked around it. The door was open and I thought that would be good to keep it as fresh-aired as possible. All the plumbing was bright and shiny steel and I flicked the lid up before I turned around, pulled the door chain in and latched the door. Since I had been on my feet for three hours, I was looking forward to taking my well-earned seat.
As soon as my body had contact with the seat, I yelled out in pain and it seemed that I had just sat on a burner on mom's stove. The seat was beyond hot. I jumped up immediately so fast that I hit my head on the ceiling. I looked around. No toilet paper whatever. And I was holding back a two-fronter. I don't know why but I next put my hand over the seat in different places. All were red hot. I flicked the seat up with hopes I could sit on the bowl. It too was steel and hot. I stood back to the door and took off my sandals. My idea was to put one on each side of the seat and to gingerly sit on them. That worked for about 30 seconds as I started to push out my crap. The seat was contoured inward and as I worked to push out my crap, I could feel my cushion sliding. If I hadn't stood then, I feared I would have to retrieve my sandals from the pit.
So I turned and tossed them against the door. Now I removed my top. I rolled it up and placed it over the left side of the seat. Then off came my jean shorts which I placed over the opposite side of the seat. Then I slowly positioned myself back on the seat with very careful planning not to let my middle area even come close to touching the front of the seat. I had carefully shaved myself two days earlier--something that I now regretted. It took me longer than usual to get my banana like crap out. My pee started fast, trickled off a couple of times, then continued. I remembered hoping that the pee I was losing, plus all my sweat which was running in my eyes like I was in the shower, was not going to de-hydrate me further.
When I got back to home base, my pastor had just arrived and he could see that I was really frustrated. I was too embarrassed to tell him what had happened, but in telling a couple of my friends, they came up with a solution. Tori, whose family operates a day care, had two inflated life jackets in her car. Our pastor did some adaptations to them and most everyone used them for the toilet throughout the day.
Pastor Bob later explained the mistake of placing the portable potty in the way of the sun and the additional damage of keeping the door open. We all learned something about science. I had a large red blotch on each side of my butt for two days. I got some special sunburn creme at the travel stop that I work at. It helped some.
Bianca ResponceThank you for the reply Bianca. Eggy smelling ones are cool. Interesting, yeah if it burns, for me it is when it is lined up to come out. That is interesting that it happens for you afterwards. I wonder if it is because your anus is more sensitive or maybe the poops really did a number on your anal skin? Slimy stuff, it is probably clear mucous, that does indeed happen to some people. Sometimes it is good to talk to your doctor about that, but it is probably nothing. A quick google search says that "Dehydration and constipation" can cause clear mucous. If it increases a lot though it could mean "illness, especially if inflammation occurs and the mucous membrane breaks down. This leaves the body more open to infection." I am no doctor and just did a google search to attempt to be helpful, hopefully it indeed helps you. Squirty farts are the best, they sound really funny. Thank you for your reply. Happy pooping Bianca.
Monday, July 24, 2017
HANDS ONHere's another story, every word true, from my childhood.
At my first boarding-school, when you were not much over 6 you were suddenly free of the jurisdiction of the infamous Miss Clarke I've been writing about, and were allowed to decide when you pooed and to do it all yourself, although you'd be asked frequently, "When did you last sit on", or poo. The transition did seem a bit sudden, I suppose with it being blind kids they had babied us with it rather, checking thoroughly what we'd done and wiping our bottoms for us, until we were older than kids would usually be for that to stop, and at home I assume our families just continued with whatever we were used to. We were away at school for the majority of the time. I remember going back to school at the end of the holidays and finding I had a new Section Head, and being worried at finding I had to wipe my own bottom from then on, and genuinely didn't know how to do it and be sure it was okay. It was soon alright though, it had only been the change and need to sort out the skill that had been the problem
Some of the causes of blindness unfortunately also have additional mental and learning difficulties, as in the case of quite a few kids at my first school, and the toilets I then had to use were often messy in the worst possible way, which, being unable to see anything myself, I might well only discover the extent of when I sat on the seat. This meant I went as infrequently as I could get away with. Usually I knew when I absolutely couldn't put it off any longer to take on the struggle with a fat, long, dry, rough and stubborn turd, usually just one, while I begged for the slightly softer texture of its upper extremity to come and indicate I'd almost got it out. Stomach aches were quite frequent, but finally resigning myself to getting on the toilet usually sorted it out. On one occasion when I was 9 or 10 though, despite delivering one of my usuals, the pain didn't go away.
There was "The Surgery" in school where you could go with any ailments, and that was also where the daily eye-related procedures some of us needed were dealt with. Surgery was presided over by "Sister", in the nursing sister sense. I told Sister I had a bad stomach ache and she asked me when I last opened my bowels. I'd heard her have such conversations with other people and knew what she meant. I told her I'd been that morning. She asked me if I'd managed to do anything and I said yes. She said it sounded as if I needed to go some more, had I tried hard? I said I had, which was true. She told me to keep at the back of the surgery queue and she'd see me in a minute.
Finally everybody else had gone and she asked me to go in. She said she could give me some medicine, but that might make me have an accident (euphemism for pooing your pants, of course). They avoided anything like that, which was going to make extra work for the staff, like the plague. She closed the Surgery door, in itself something rather scarily extreme that didn't usually happen, and said, "Sometimes something as simple as soap can get things moving, it gives you the right feeling to make you and your bowels get working. Pull down your trousers and underpants and I'll put some up your bottom," and she was now at the sink.
Gosh, I'd never heard of this before, I obviously had the gist of what she was going to do, but only that, it might hurt and was definitely going to be incredibly embarrassing if nothing else, and my nervousness and shyness was making me fumbly with my clothes.
"Quickly please, it's Assembly in 20 minutes," she ordered, and I heard her squishing around with the soap. Then she went to the chair and said, "Right, come here and I want you to get over my lap."
With a strong feeling of unreality but also, I was aware, an element of unfamiliar, somehow excited anticipation, I shakily found her starchy overall-covered legs and lay across them. She rolled my shirt a long way up my back, evidently took a look at the position of my bottom and adjusted her knees for a second or two. With what felt like a spreading movement of the finger and thumb of the unsoaped hand she opened my cheeks, moved her legs slightly again so she'd got me exactly where she wanted me, and I felt a very soapy finger feeling in my crack. She obviously knew just what she was looking for, prodded briskly through my sphincter and there was a quick sliding sensation, rapidly further up inside me than I'd think of as my bottom, and moving in the opposite direction there to which anything ever had before, immediately making me try to stop it by clenching tight, wriggle violently and hopelessly attempt to kick in the pants and trousers at my ankles, while panting and protesting.
She gave me one warning smack on the bottom and shouted, "keep still, don't do that," and then I definitely knew I had somehow to co-operate fully. She made her finger slide and twiddle for another few seconds, determinedly rubbing in the soap any way she could within the limits of my rectum, before I felt her take it all the way out, making a nasty, messy sound.
I was straight away aware of the kind of irritation you get up your bottom after doing an acidic poo. I wouldn't at that age have been able to pin it down to anything in particular like that, of course, but did know that sort of soreness inside you, only this was very strong. "Now, you'll want to get straight on the toilet after that, I'm sure, you can use this one in the Surgery, and if I don't see you do a jolly good poo I'm going to give you an enema. You won't like that either, but that will definitely solve the problem. Quickly now, you can get to the toilet without getting dressed, it's only here."
Not knowing what an enema was, very uncomfortable and embarrassed, and, she was right, at least feeling like I was now dying to poo, I shuffled in the clothes at my ankles to the toilet Sister was guiding me to, I hadn't even known there was one there. She said, "I'll come back in a moment. You need to really push hard."
I certainly did, and my bum made a bit of a promising noise when I managed to force some soapy bubbles out of it, which made Sister respond, "That sounds better." She'd made that enema sound like a threat, and I strained and pushed with all my might, doing every helping manoeuvre I knew. I wasn't used to any kind of supervision these days, and was a bit taken aback when I was in the middle of mega bearing down, tugging, pressing and writhing every way, when, back at the open door, she said, "Good boy, I can see you're doing your best." She'd have heard as well, I was desperate to try to go.
There was just no sign whatsoever of any movement inside me though, and in the end I flopped back exhausted and just groaned, "I can't do anything."
"Alright," said Sister, "I want you to come to the surgery 25 minutes before afternoon school please, it won't be very nice but it's for your own good."
I dreaded the sound of that, it was the kind of thing they said to people when they were going to smack them, and 25 minutes sounded like a long time.
(To be continued).
HANDS ON (CONTINUED)After lunch the irritation of the soap had gone, but I still had a stomach ache, not agony exactly, but about as bad as it had been all through, and constant. I'd got on the toilet and tried as hard as I could again, but I still couldn't make anything come. I told my best friend I was going to have an enema, but he didn't know what it was either. After what Sister had said about it, and the business in the morning, I was very nervous when I went to the Surgery.
Sister asked me if I still had the ???? ache and I said yes, and when she asked I said I still hadn't been able to poo any more. "I don't know why you were able to do some at first but can't get the rest out," she said, making it sound as if it was my fault, I thought, "but you're going to have to have an enema. Do you know what that is?"
I said no.
"Well, we make a lot of water with something special in it go up your bottom inside you, you have to hold it there for a few minutes while it softens your poo, then you sit on the toilet and can let it out, and it thoroughly washes it all out of your body."
I was trying to imagine it and it sounded horrible. "Does it hurt?" I asked, and she said, "well, you won't like it when your ????'s full of the stuff, and some people find it frightening when everything is gushing out of their bottom, but you'll feel much better afterwards. Now," and she'd closed the Surgery door again, "I want you to take off all your clothes in case we have any problems." I wondered what kind of problems she might be thinking of, and apprehensively got undressed.
"Now, this is what I'm going to use," and because I can't see, of course, she handed me a tube with a tapering end and said, "It's just the first quite thin part that's going up your bottom, and it's only about the same thickness as my finger this morning, so I know you can cope with that." All the same, it didn't feel like something I wanted going there.
"This is what holds the mixture," and she showed me a warm, squashy fabric bag which felt as if it contained an awful lot of water. "Right, hop up on the couch," and she patted it with her hand so I knew where it was
I clambered up and the plastic cover felt cold against my skin.
"Right, turn away from me on your side, bring your knees right up and make your bottom open as much as you can." With my heart thumping, I gingerly complied. Although as a 9 or 10 year old I didn't of course have the actual vocabulary, the vulnerability was very clear and strong to me, I was wondering quite what my anal exposure to her was going to lead to this time.
"I've made the insertion nice and slippery," she said, bending down close to my bottom, "now …".
When I felt her begin jiggling and pushing the end in my bum, after this morning I did manage to resist the reflex to keep out the intrusion, I knew she wouldn't allow that. It didn't actually hurt anyway, it was just slidy, but I was very conscious again in that part of me of something moving in a direction I wasn't used to and it wasn't me making it.
Alright?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer, "here comes the fluid. I've made sure it's warm so it won't shock you, but it will feel strange."
She did something, and first in my bottom, then up into the beginning of my ????, there was a sort of hissing that I could feel rather than hear. It was a completely new sensation, of course, and I didn't like it, but could cope. The fluid must have been slightly colder than my body temperature, because I did notice a coolness in my stomach.
I just lay there for a while, then began to feel a new, tight pain in the bottom of my stomach. "It's hurting my ????," I protested.
"It's because it's starting to get full up," said Sister, "not much more now.
"Oh please, oh gosh!" I said after another few seconds, and spontaneously started to wriggle.
"Keep still," she ordered, and I felt her take hold of the tube to make sure I didn't get it out.
Then I felt two strong squirts go up, I now realize as she was probably squeezing the last of the mixture out of the bag, and it stopped.
So far it had all been totally unfamiliar, of course, but manageable. Now, though, I felt as if my stomach was bursting and I was beginning to get strong diarrhoea-like contractions. "I need to go to the toilet - badly!" I urged.
"No," she answered firmly, "you've got to hold it for another minute," and I hardly noticed her sliding the tube out of my bottom.
"Oh, oh!" I panicked, I'm trying, but …"
"You've got to hold it, close up your bottom tight, and I'll get the toilet ready."
I was gripping my cheeks tight with my hands, and heard her lift the lid of the surgery toilet. "You've only got to get to here," she was calling from the toilet's nearby echo, "alright, come on."
I half fell from the couch because my hands were occupied with my bottom, and without quite knowing the way I went as quickly as I could to where she was calling to me. The diarrhoea-type contractions were now phenomenal and my stomach as tight as a drum, but somehow I made it. Sister tapped the seat to guide me and said, "Get straight on."
The relief of feeling the cool toilet seat under my legs and bottom was absolutely enormous and I probably couldn't have waited another second, but the action of sitting made release really unstoppable anyway, and a new episode of utter unfamiliarity began. Suddenly I felt my bottom spraying out liquid, continuously and totally without any encouragement whatsoever from me. Often though, it felt as if handfuls of pebbles were being tossed into the top end of the stream and I'd feel them wash out of me in the cascade, interrupting the pure-sounding flow as my bottom spat them into the water. I'd heard girls weeing when I'd been listening under the ventilation grill between the boys' toilets and theirs, and also I'd heard my sister at home loads of times, and was really fascinated by it. Some of the time what I was doing now sounded just the same, but when the pebbles came it made it sound as if the girls were drumming their fingers right in the stream, wherever it was their wee came from.
I don't suppose it went on for very long, but it seemed like ages to me. When it stopped, Sister said,There's often at least another wave. Stand up and let me see how you're getting on though."
I got up and she said, "My goodness, young man, no wonder you had a stomach ache! You're going to have to go to the toilet a very great deal more often. You've pooed and pooed!"
Then I had to apologise and quickly sit down again, I had another overpowering urge to continue with the release, as she'd predicted. This one didn't last as long, but there was plenty more liquid and poo. After that I sat for a minute taking in what had just happened, it was shocking but fascinating, all at the same time. Then Sister said, "I'll give you a note for your teacher this afternoon, because you may well need to go again, but you'd better get your bottom wiped and get dressed for school. I'm going to be asking you from time to time about your bowels, and remember, I want the truth."
There was one more small episode during the afternoon, but my teacher, very sympathetic indeed as soon as she'd seen the note, let me go to the toilet straight away, and this one was really just a very watery poo. I didn't know at the time how to describe to my friend the way I felt after my enema, but I remember it very well. It was like when you wash your face to wake you up, your skin feels fresh and more pliable, a sort of Springlike effect, only this was inside me, and I had a temptation to skip everywhere for a while. I didn't know if I'd tell Sister if I got clogged up like that again, but I wasn't at all sure I wouldn't.
Contests in the GarageThis really is the final alley post before we moved to the high-rise apartments. I and three other boys sometimes had a contest to see who could best piss into the drain in the abandoned garage. One time, I thought I saw a face in the window just as we were taking out our dicks. When we got them all out and ready to start pissing, the face in the window came in..a girl. One boy quickly put away his dick. "Hi, guys", the girl said. "I'm going to be the judge in your pissing contest. I'd join in your contest if I could, but I don't have the right equipment". I new this girl. She lived in the neighborhood and her name was Cathy. I had seen her pee a few times when she had straddled the drain with her pants off while I was peeing into it. Bob, who had hid his dick when Cathy came in, thought a bit, and decided to take it out again. Anyway, we decided to let Cathy be our judge, provided she would pee into the drain afterward. She agreed. She pulled out a stopwatch as we got around the drain. Very official, she was. 1-2-3-go, she counted out, as we all let go our urine. Some of us were late starting. I started first and ended last, so I won. Now it was Cathy's turn. She gave me the stopwatch. Then she took off her pants and panties, straddled in front of the drain, and crouched back a little right over the drain. At my signal, she let go, with her well practiced aim, as I started the stopwatch. I stopped it at 32 seconds. Not a record for her, but pretty good. We all applauded. She and I peed in the drain under the building back stairs several times before we moved that summer. That was the last I ever saw of her.
RachelHi Rachel, I really liked your story! I just have some questions for you. You seem really regular in that you always needed to poop during Block 2. Did you follow some kind of a diet and exercise to make yourself that regular, or did it just happen that way? And you were really lucky that you get different teachers for Block 2 each day. At my school, we have classes similar to yours. We have two periods in the morning and afternoon, with a lunch hour in between. Except we get the SAME class and teacher for Period 2 everyday! So if you have a tendency to go during a certain period, you always end up asking the same teacher! How does the timetable at your school work? It sounds better than ours that it changes each day! And please post anymore stories you have!
ResponseTo Optional Person: I had a poop today that smelled eggy just like you described in one of your posts, except I sat on the toilet normally. You also talked about a burning sensation in your butt, but unlike you, my anal area has felt irritated after some poops especially if they're the type that are semisolid. The irritation is like the urge to scratch your butt. It doesn't last long, and passes on its own. Also, I still periodically get what feels like mucous in my stool. I say feel, because when I wipe, the paper is covered in this slimy stuff. I got this before, but it tends to alternate between being more of an off and on thing now. Just a while ago, I took another shit while reading on this website. This time, it was loose, and I did some squirty sounding farts as I let go.
No Bathroom in the 1960sI used to know this guy that was a kid in the 1960s that could only go to the bathroom twice a day for 2 years with a few exceptions. It was him age 10 an 8 year old brother and a 14 year old sister. His family was very poor and moved to Texas to find work. The dad met a guy on the CB radio that rented them a space on his property and another guy that sold them a trailer without a bathroom. The old man that rented them the property told them in order to use the toilet they would need to build a bathroom, dig their own septic system as well as their own well for water,. The family couldn't afford it and planned on getting their own property somewhere else, therefore didn't want to put a septic system and well for him to use for other tenant. The old man also for forbid them to use his bathroom or to use the bathroom in the yard. He let them use the water hose, but only for cooking and such. He was very strict about it and threatened to evict them if they were caught going in the yard. They tried using a bucket, but stopped because of the smell and being unable to dispose of the waste without the old man seeing. There were only a couple of neighbors close by and they had too much pride to ask to use their bathroom and the gas station was too far to walk. The dad worked during the day and the kids and wife stayed at the home. They were brought to the gas station to use the bathroom in the morning before work. At first he would come home for lunch to bring them again, but later that wasn't possible due to him working further away. They would go again when he got home and then would be put to bed around 8 pm. The parents at first allowed them more visits on weekends such as during shopping, but found they had more difficulty holding it during the week, so they stuck to the twice a day rule even on weekends. So while they would be allowed to go before church on Sunday, they wouldn't be allowed to go after the services and would instead go back home and would make the kids wait till after dinner around 6 PM. The same when shopping. Even though there may have been a bathroom in the stores, they couldn't use it to keep them on schedule. The kids suffered greatly and would cry during the day in agony. The mom would just try to keep their minds off of it. They had a few accidents and were severely beaten for it. They held it in no matter how bad it was. On school days they would go at school in the morning when they got there and after lunch, they wouldn't go again till 6 pm. For showers they would go to a relatives house twice a week. Eventually they got used to holding it. They moved to a property and put a well and septic and built a bathroom. This took a few month to do so they still have to use the gas station for awhile even after moving. Even after the bathroom was built the parents still restricted their bathroom use since they knew they could get by on two visits a day. I couldn't imagine holding it that long at the age of 14 much less 8!
To CarinI see I wasn't the only person who used to do that with my mother! It used to be part of my morning routine when getting ready for school. I would get up, wash, have breakfast and then get into my school uniform. Just before leaving the house I would go to the toilet while she did my hair for me. She would sit right back on the toilet and only pee, while I was sat between her legs with my back to her, emptying both ends while she brushed my hair.
I don't remember too much about it but one thing sticks in my mind is her once asking me if that felt better after hearing a splash as I dropped a log!
comments for StacyStacy, which kind of laxatives and stool softeners did you take? They seemed to work really fast in your case. Did you take three doses before you had to poop? How much did you take? Also, great story!!
Epic Buddy DumpHello guys,this is my first post on this site.I am a 16 year old,italian guy,with dark hair and dark eyes.Anyway,I'm here to tell a story that ocurred two days ago.
I decided to went trekking on this not very high mountain with my close friend Paul(not his real name).We had breakfast together that morning and we both drank black coffee,not thinking about what coffee usually does to our bowels.
We walked a lot and had fun.After two hours we stopped four lunch and then started walking again.
When we restarted walking I started to need a pooo quite bad and I knew that my friend was in pain too but we didn't want too poop now because was a lot of people on the path that day.
We hold tight and keep trekking,until there was less people around.The problem was:there were no trees or bushes to hide us.
We were both dying for a poop by that moment;and then we saw it.An ababdoned hut with noo door.We rushed to it as quickly as possible.There was no people inside so Paul and I proceed to drop our trousers and relieve ourselves,almost on the same point.We are usually not very open about toilet habits but we had nearly no choice this time.
Anyway,moaning in relief,we keep spraying this disgusting runny,stinky, shit on the hut floor until we were both done,wiped with some tissues and left.And this wasn't the funny part!On our way back we reached the hut again and saw this tourits group,leaded by a guide.
The guide was saying:"Now,let's enter this rare,old,hut,one of the few remaining of his time in the whole region"when we realised what do we did we had an hard time trying to not laugh.
So,the guide entered the place and,believe me,instantly left it,trying to explain why to the confused tourists.
Water Park BathroomsI'm spending my time this summer as a nanny for two kids in my neighborhood. Kirsten is 5 and her brother Jakkub is 7. At least four days a week we spend the afternoons at a large waterpark our city has not to far away. Jakkub has a lot of energy and takes the 6-block walk without a fuss. Often, however, Kirsten will complain about the walk so that I will end up carrying her on my shoulders. Twice this summer Kirsten has let off gas and taken a soft crap while on her neck ride. Since she's often complaining (no doors on the toilet cubicles, wet seats, the stools are too high for her to sit on, etc.) I just tune her out until I hear the eruption and and there's poop on the back of my neck and back.
Each time I immediately put in her down and pull her swimsuit down to see the extent of damage. Its usually like a bagload of really soft poo. The first time we were about a half block from a laundramat and I hurried her down there to take her into the bathroom and dump it. The attendant, an old lady, laughed at us as we walked by. I washed Kirsten's swim suit out in the sink while Kirsten sat on the toilet and cleaned up her backside. Jakkub, of course, thought it was funny. Kirsten then throws back on her brother how he sits in other's pee to take his afternoon crap. He says wet toilet seats have to be expected at a swimming pool. However, Kirsten tries unsuccessfully to hold her crap until we get back home. And it is really hard to dry off the seats before sitting on them because each cubicle has only the 4"x4" pre-cut squares of toilet paper.
I myself have had to dump three times. I leave Jakkub and Kirsten with someone else and they stay out of the water while I go in and do my thing. They rebel about it but I can't think of any other solution. The worse thing I fear when I'm sitting on the toilet is that I might be sitting in another guy's urine because so many of the boys, Jakkub's no exception, don't pull their trunks down far enough and at the same time guide their pee with their hand into the toilet. Their out of control pee stream and splashing won't be getting any better because of that.
To Carin: sharing a toiletCarin, I loved your story about sitting on the toilet with your Mother, I can imagine that must have been a bonding experience. You mentioned that you'd done it before when you were younger. I'm curious if you did it before you were toilet trained, I wonder if that's a good way of teaching a child to use the toilet. Seems likely that you'd learn to push to start a BM pretty quickly that way-- JW
I love your stories hope u continue to post.
In da clubHey!
It was dollar shot night at a local bar last night. My friends Molly and Sierra came out with me to beat the heat and make some potentially questionable decisions. We all live within walking distance of the bar and each other and that meant that driving was not one of those bad decisions. We met up at my place for a couple beers and then headed out.
The dollar bills were flying and the well tequila was making its way down as we eyed the male clientele. Molly, a gorgeous redhead, caught the fancy of one of them and she eventually disappeared. That left Sierra and I together for more cheap booze. It wasn't too long before I got a familiar feeling in my belly, though not in the direction that one would normally associate with alcohol. I had to poop, and I had to do it soon. I grabbed Sierra's hand and said "I have to go. Want to come with?" "What? Why are we leaving so soon?" was her confused reply. "No, I reeaallly have to go," I clarified, using our private expression for pooping. "Oh, okay! I have to pee; let's go!"
We made our way to the rickety bathroom and it was quite a scene. Two of the four stalls were occupied; one of them by someone having her hair held back, the other by someone crying mascara tears. Poor things! Both were being taken care of and that made me feel better. We took the fourth stall and, as I stood guard, Sierra turned her gray dress up, slipped her undies down, and took a seat. Her tanned thighs looked pretty hot against the old-school black plastic seat and she started peeing almost as soon as she sat down. I could hear a final sob give way to a determined flush over the loud music as Sierra's bladder drained. Good. She was down, not out. At last, she was done. I got her a handful of paper from the holder and handed it to her. Sierra wiped her undercarriage and flushed before standing up and getting dressed again. It was my turn.
We switched places in the stall and I got my pink shorts and black thong to my knees before sitting down. Thirty seconds passed and I farted out a warning shot before peeing. My pee finished and my first turd began crackling out. It fell and I farted again, by this point gently snapping the wide, lacy waistband of my thong against my knees. The second log splashed into the bowl and then there was another fart. Another piece and another fart. Two more poops and my number two was done. Sierra was ready with toilet paper and that was good because things were kinda messy back there. It took six or seven wipes until I felt confident enough to get off the pot, cheekily point my behind at Sierra, and ask "How does that look?" She playfully spanked me by way of reply and said "Cute!" Shorts and thong came back up and I flushed the toilet before we washed our hands and left.
Shoutout to Mina, Taylor, Anna and all my other friends here!
comments & stuffTo: Rachel great story about your desperate buddy dump you having the runs while Jessica was having a normal poop.
To: Annie From Taiwan another great story.
To: Carin great story about sharing the toilet with your mom.
To: Ellie it sounds like you and your friends had an interesting time even it cause of something one of them did.
To: Lavah that sounds like a monster of a poop that was a cork holding everything back.
well that's all for now.
Sincerely Brandon T
PS. I love this site
Annie (Anny) from Taiwan
Runny/mushy poop after lunchHi everyone. I'm sitting on the toilet right now having a post-lunch poop since I didn't need to poop after breakfast. IDK why. I had a good hot lunch with a bottle of water and about 45 minutes later, that seems to have stimulated my bowels as here I am on the toilet with my grey shorts and white undies with pink & brown stripes having a soft, almost diarrhea-like poop. Peeing a bit more on top of the messy pile of soft crap. Stomach is still gurgling a bit. Just burped a bit, excuse me. Feels like I'm finished. Wiped my front, now reaching for more tissues behind me to wipe my butt. Had to use 4 tissues to clean my butt. Pulling up my underwear and shorts. Flushed the toilet and washed my hands. Now I'm going to take a nap.
Annie from Taiwan
Answers to Curious Cody1 Not scared
6 Don't remember
7 6 years. By law, 5 years was the latest a child could go into the bathroom of the opposite gender. By practice, it was often violated however.
8 Yes. In school, to escape anything I didn't want to do. This is called "taking a navy shit".
comments & stuffTo: Abby C at least you were able to finish pooping after that.
To: Annie From Taiwan another great story.
To: Alice great story it sounds you really had to poop.
To: Mina as always another great story about you and your friends it sounds like you all had great poops.
To: Taylor great story your poop in the porta potty
Well that's all for now.
Sincerely Brandon T
PS. I love this site