Michelle goes for a bike ride
Posted: 3/8/2000 11:35:30 PMBy: Comfortably Anonymous
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Topic: Humor
WARNING -- This story contains graphic depictions of human bodily waste evacuations and the sexual feelings tied to such activities. If this offends you, read no further.
MICHELLE
by Exit, September 1995
The day so far was perfect (as perfect as it can be before 7:00am) - a high overcast sky, no wind, and about 60-65 degrees. An absolutely perfect day for an early morning bicycle ride through the hills and out to the coast, then back before 9:00am to start the weekends last activities. And this is nearly everything Michelle thought of the lovely Sunday morning - that is until she felt the cramp halfway through the ride. "Damn", she thought to herself, "I havent been able to go for two days, I know I should have tried before I left, and now, NOW, right in the middle of my perfect ride, my body says go."
She quickly thought of the last two days: the late-night partying with good friends, the excellent food, and the drinking. Especially the drinking. Her plumbing hadnt had ANY problem with the fluid side of her diet. It must have been the delicious, diet-breaking, delights shed indulged in for the passed two days which had caused her problem. Now she was alone and several miles from any civilized relief. She thought quickly she could make it up the rest of the hill, and possibly home without incident, and pedaled on.
Michelle had long been a fan of early-morning bicycle rides. In fact, since shed ridden that coastal area when she was fourteen, some ten years ago, she knew without doubt shed never want to live anyplace other than where she could continue to experience the sheer beauty of an early Sunday morning spent in the hills overlooking the coast. Not many of her friends had ever joined her on the exploits, not even the few "physically-fit" boyfriends shed had. At best, most were willing to join her at the halfway mark for breakfast and shed often done just that - then sometimes cheated by getting a car ride back home. But most often, as was the case on this fine day, Michelle found herself completely alone - no fitness nuts, no tourists, no Sunday drivers - and completely
enjoyed it. Except for the lingering cramp.
Being somewhat of a rebel and a more than experienced bicycle rider, Michelle never wore a helmet when she rode (much to the amazement and horror of her less-than-experienced, quite yuppie friends who sometimes joined her) and now swept strands of her long blonde hair out of her eyes before mounting more energy into the vertical assault. She rode her mountain-bike today in anticipation of taking the dirt rode down the other side of the hill and felt shed been doing better than usual, passing various landmarks along the uphill road with considerably less effort. As always, she wore the spandex bicycle shorts (today was vibrant purple and grey) partly for the comfort and fit, partly because she got a small thrill from showing off her very fit body to others she
might see (though she never told of this lest her "friends" turn an evil eye toward her). Since the day was warm for a morning, she wore a grey sweatshirt, cut off just below her ample chest, and had the sleeves pushed up to the elbows. No T-shirt today due to the lack of wind.
Another 50 yards up the road and the cramp surged again. "Damn", she muttered aloud, and doubled her concentration on getting to the top of the hill. Unfortunately, Michelle had never quit or pooped-out in any of her fitness exploits. If she started something, she was determined, at times to her detriment, to finish. This was no different, and though she had more than ten miles left in the ride, Michelle felt she could make it. She KNEW she would make it.
Another 75 yards up the hill, Michelle became dreadfully aware that the tight waist of her spandex shorts was gouging her where it hurt most and seemed to be the principle cause of the cramps. With one hand, she carefully and quickly rolled the top of the shorts down about an inch, thinking it would change the pressure spot and thus alleviate the problem. This done, she rode on but very soon discovered that while the pressure spot changed, the amount of pressure doubled from the roll of spandex instead of just the single layer.
With a small gasp, Michelle once again grabbed her shorts with one hand and this time tugged up - hard. She brought the top of the sorts just above her belly-button, hoping maybe THAT would help. Seconds later, she realized it only made things worse, as now the pressure from the elastic bore down on the top of her intestinal tract, forcing her body to cramp. Without a choice, Michelle swore a few naughty words, placed her shorts back where they were to begin with and hoped there would be a portable toilet at the next tourist vista point.
As she rode on, Michelle tried hard to concentrate on her riding, the beautiful day, the gorgeous views she had from the hill (though shed seen them a million times before, those views never ceased to amaze her), and when all else failed, Michelle tried hard to think about sex. "That's the one thing", she momentarily remembered telling a friend, "the ONE thing you can always count on to bring you out of a mess. If youre falling asleep at the wheel, or have a headache which simply persists, think of sex." After that statement she remembered a long conversation about endorphins and what they may do to the body when you thought of certain things, like sex. And those endorphins were exactly what Michelle was counting on now because the pain of each cramp was only getting worse. So she thought of all the great sex shed ever had and ever wanted to have, and kept pedaling.
At last Michelle saw the vista point ahead. It had only been about a half-mile from where shed started thinking about sex, but the ride had seemed to take hours. Now poor Michelle was in considerable pain (no doubt aided and magnified by her bicycling - no to mention the spandex shorts) and was also very horny. "All that sex I've always wanted to have", she said to herself and was almost startled at the break in silence. Though her Sunday-morning exploits had always been accompanied by very few people out on the same trail, she never had been out on a day so completely alone. Another cramp surged and Michelle put all thoughts of other rides, and being alone out of her mind. Fortunately, her thoughts of sex persisted, and she doggedly closed on the vista point.
Sure enough, the transportation engineers could be counted on. At one edge of the turnout was a tall, rectangular item - the never-confused-with-anything-else, and always revered portable toilet. Michelle pedaled up to it as quickly as possible, jumped off her bicycle, and nearly without a care laid it right down on the hard dirt. Then, no sooner had she turned to the toilet with all the relief of a finishing pentathlete, that a moan escaped her lips.
Sure, those transportation engineers (a.k.a. "roadside assholes") could always be counted on. They could always be counted on to lock up their precious equipment safe and sound, lest some marauding band of teenagers make off with an entire portable toilet in the middle of the night. Before bursting with frustration, Michelle caught a brief mental image of a gigantic blue Chevy, weaving down the road with an entire portable outhouse sticking comically out of the trunk. It didn't help matters one bit because she laughed at that thought, and immediately had to cross her tanned and toned legs and bend over to keep a certain gate from opening.
After some moments of deep concentration, Michelle pulled the waist band of her shorts away from her abdomen with her fingers and immediately felt relief. A thought struck her then, and she quickly dismissed it as impossible. Then, as soon as she gently let go of the elastic, the cramps surged again and that impossible thought sprang back to the very forefront of her mind.
"You're all alone out here. Its still another mile, at least, to the top of the hill. If you relieve the pressure for that amount of time, it may stay gone for long enough to make it home and take care of things properly." Thoughts swarmed over her mind. She found herself horny enough already from all the concentrating on sex, let alone strange feelings from the uncomfortable pressure in her lower sections. Sure, without the shorts, nothing would separate her bare ass from the rest of the world except the thin cotton lining of her little white panties. And sure, someone might just see her riding up the rest of the hill like that. But she hadnt seen a soul thus far, it wasnt cold out, and if the cramps went away, she could always put the spandex shorts back on at the top of the hill, and coast most of the rest of the way home. Strangely for Michelle, the idea of riding in nothing but a cut off sweatshirt and panties, out in the middle of nowhere, produced more wetness than had her ride so far. It was probably this alone which Michelle based her final decision on.
Without another thought, Michelle peeled down her spandex shorts (and felt immense relief in doing so) and stowed them securely in the under-seat bag on her bicycle. Then, after another moments concentration (during which Michelle became alarmingly aware of how full she felt), she picked up the bike, carefully climbed on, and continued her assault up the hill.
Having never ridden a bicycle nude, or even really close to nude, Michelle found a great thrill in feeling the air blow by her now nearly exposed crotch and bare upper thighs. Soon she found herself seated more firmly on the tiny mountain-bike seat, grinding just the barest amount against it. Every bump, jolt, or movement her body made against the hard vinyl of the seat sent strong shivers up her back. These bumps and vibrations also induced interesting, somewhat exciting tingles in the other side of her lower body - no doubt due to her present condition - and Michelle found that she didnt really mind those tingles. The weather had turned surprisingly warm all of the sudden, and Michelle thought she may not be able to wear this particular pair of panties again after this
trip.
It was about one half-mile from the top of the hill that Michelle heard voices. Unfortunately, because at that point there was really nowhere to stop and completely hide, Michelle stopped her ride, leaned the bicycle against the side of the hill, and climbed up into the brush. She spied one particular set of bushes about 100 feet up the hill, decided they'd make for the best cover, and quickened her pace.
At last she reached the clump of tight bushes and squeezed through, luckily without scratching herself on any of the stiff branches. Her cover was well-picked: about five feet high, it hid her on three sides and still allowed her to watch the road and her bicycle. Then, as the voices grew louder, Michelle crouched down just enough to be completely hidden, and suddenly realized a problem.
Having relieved herself of the spandex shorts and thus the pressure, her body responded by not cramping. However, now that she found herself nearly exposed, and more than a little nervous, the cramps returned - with a vengeance.
Suddenly Michelle had no idea what to do except stand crouched behind the bushes, cross her legs as tight as she ever could, clench he fists and prey. The riders had now come into view and were bearing down quickly on the place where her bicycle rested. "What a strange sight," Michelle thought through her clenched eyes, "to see a person's bicycle abandoned this far out." She hoped against hope the riders would not also realize his and merrily continue on their little way. However, a certain squeaking of brakes, known all-too-well to those who frequently ride bicycles, shattered every prayer Michelle had at the moment.
Though she could not hear them, Michelle could see the riders now clustered near her bicycle, talking and occasionally pointing at it. It as a group of two men and two women, and Michelle thought for just a moment shed like to have those two somewhat "yuppie" men up in the bushes with her, servicing every whim she could think of - after she took care of one certain, rather pressing (a complete understatement) problem. "Please, oh please, oh please go away. Just go on. The bike is safe, Ill be back down to get it in a moment. Just go away and everything will be fine." Then, as if to answer her whispered prayer, one of the men dismounted his bicycle and sat down, obviously to watch the disappeared riders bicycle until he or she returned.
"Oh Jesus Christ!", muttered Michelle, partly from the mans ignorant action, but mostly from the immense cramp squeezing her bowels. The two days without a significant trip to the ladies room was paying off now, oh yes it was, and Michelle swore at that moment to never let something like this happen again. Sure, they were absolutely impossible-to-determine circumstances, but hey, anybody with a little sense could know to try to poop before a ride, especially after not having gone for two whole days.
Now the other man and one of the women also dismounted, laid down their bikes and sat on the ground. They seemed to talk happily, one of the women obviously glad for the momentary rest. Michelle moaned quietly in her pain and wished theyd go away and mind their own goodie-goodie business. "Cant you see I need to poop?", she asked to the air in front of her. "Dont you understand? Sometimes people dont need to be helped or watched over!" Another cramp, this one lasting almost 10 seconds (Michelle counted) washed over her frame and for the first time she thought she might not make it.
"To hell with that idea", whispered Michelle, "If only I had some toilet paper, I might just be tempted to do it right here. Just peel down my little white panties, do it right here, and leave it for the next person who has to go so bad. Right here, big and stinky." This last thought aught in Michelles mind and she found herself replacing the word "big" with "huge", then "absolutely huge". These thoughts began a small fit of laughter, and Michelle found herself all at once losing control.
"Oh no! OH NO!", she shrieked silently, "NOT HERE! I WAS KIDDING!" Once again, Michelle was made VERY aware of just how full she was, just how much digested food was stacked up in her bowels, hollering incessantly for escape. Then, as the cramp and her laughter intensified and her control rapidly diminished, Michelles insides turned to ice as she felt all of that fullness begin to move.
"Oh God! Oh No!" Michelle doubled her efforts and squeezed her legs together in a way and with a force they seemed never meant to produce, hoping against all hope she might stop the quake in her body from which the seemingly inevitable might come. Tears from the effort began to pool in the corners of her eyes, her stomach tied itself in a knot, and poor Michelle stood there, breathing heavily, preying for a miracle. "Oh my God Ive never had to poop this bad ever in my life before. Oh please oh please oh please just stop. Just stop moving and let me get on with my ride, let me get home safe and sound and Ill take care of everything nice and proper." The prayer, even by the greatest stretch of the imagination, was not working and Michelle felt her tiny puckered hole (surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks oogled by too many men and possibly a few women) begin to
stretch open. "OH NO! OH GOD! IM GOING TO POOP IN MY (little white) PANTIES!!" Shrieked Michelle to herself. One of the women turned her head to the hill, as if shed heard something and Michelle made effort to keep quieter along with force her ass closed and keep the turd out of her panties. "Oh God oh God oh God", she panted, "Here I am, standing out in the middle of nowhere, luckily tucked behind a bush, standing in nothing but a sweatshirt and my (little white) panties with people not 100 feet away, and Im about to poop, crap, dump a load - a huge load - into my panties." Then, to her horror (and some other feeling - was it excitement?) Michelle felt just the slightest bit of poop escape her anus, finding a home between her oh-so-toned buttocks. It was warm and
slightly hard, feeling almost like a half-sized marble in her panties. "Oh God. Oh no.", she uttered and found her breathing very labored. Michelle concentrated more than ever on closing that magic gate, now decisively opened (and surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks), and once again thought of sex. Unfortunately, and to add yet another surprising aspect to her situation, for poor Michelle, this was exactly the wrong idea - the feelings and excitement of her current predicament somehow stepped up her level of sexual want, and Michelle, for just a split second, almost let the whole thing go - right there, standing up, and into her (little white) panties.
Finally the riders oh-so-nicely watching over her bicycle got up, mounted their own bikes, and rode on. "Assholes", thought Michelle, "If I were watching someones bike, Id at least stay there until they returned, or maybe call out for them, or something." Her relief, however at watching the group move on was close to the initial relief of removing those spandex shorts. After a few seconds of amazing concentration and muscle control, and seemingly without a moment to lose, Michelle stood up straight, tested her control (again amazed at the amount of fullness she felt), then quickly picked her way out of the bushes.
While carefully climbing back down the hill, Michelle felt the marble of poop squishing and rolling around between her buttocks and for some nknown-to-her-reason, found it wickedly pleasurable. "Must be all that thinking about sex", she thought, "I couldnt actually be getting hot over this." And then, not 50 feet from her point of seeming salvation, to poor Michelles complete and absolute horror, the cramp of all cramps decided to rack her body. Right there, between her lovely little hiding spot and her bicycle, without warning, Michelle felt her lower body flex in a manner NOT to be denied.
Slamming her fists to her thighs, Michelle crossed her legs, and bent forward in a concentrated effort to keep the maximum amount of muscle ressure on her anus (surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks). Unfortunately, this squeezing also heightened the sensation of that single escapee, that slightly-warm and almost hard marble of poop now trapped firmly between the undeniably squeezable buttocks of her ass. "Oh Lord", panted Michelle, "I cant believe this. Here I am, no totally exposed to any person happening to come along, about to poop (crap, dump a load) in my (little white) panties, wearing nothing else, and I CANT MOVE!" She felt her body increase the pressure of the cramp and realized quickly that because of
that single escapee (now trapped firmly between the undeniably squeezable buttocks of her ass), her anus and its internal path have already, for all intents and purposes (in this case only one purpose) been "greased". The poop which now forced against the inner door of Michelles anus would have an easier job of escaping (dumping into little white panties), and thus, Michelle would have to make an even stronger effort than before to keep that from happening.
"Oh God. OH GOD!", shrieked Michelle as quietly as she could as she felt the massive snake of poop once again begin to move deep in her body. "Oh.... If only...." But out in the places of nowhere, at least in this life, there are no "if onlys" and Michelle could only stand there, sticking out her beautiful white-panty clad ass, and pant as the inevitable seemed ready to happen.
Unfortunately for her predicament, yet fortunately for her sanity, Michelles mind began to do an about-face. "Well, if I let this (massive load) go in my (little white) panties, sure it would be messy, but I could strip them off, grab my shorts, and make the rest of the way back without any more problem than uncomfort." For a moment, Michelles realization of pain and cramps subsided as she pondered her new thought. "Then I could immediately run a shower and wash everything off, and be clean and comfortable. Of course, if I stop now and attempt to pull off my (little white) panties and poop (crap, dump this horrendous load) here on the ground, not only would I most definitely not make it and wind up pooping all over myself, but anybody coming along would most certainly know what I was doing." Mental relief began to wash over Michelles body like cold water. "But if I let myself poop in my panties, right here and
now, not only will they (hopefully) contain the mess, but allow me to travel back in painless discomfort."
Suddenly the waves of physical pain and cramping, caused only by the massive poop screaming to escape Michelles ass, intensified to a point at which Michelle thought she just might faint. On the other hand, her new realization of painless discomfort kept her from that unconscious point, knowing that relief was only a step (one hell of a socially unacceptable step) away. Coupled with that socially unacceptable step, were all sorts of feelings of wickedness, taboo, and sexual pleasure from doing something so bad, so un-right (but was it really?) and in the middle of all her cramping, Michelle felt more wetness escape the spot just in front of her concentration.
"Too hell with this", Michelle spoke aloud, "Im gonna do it right here."
With that preamble, Michelle parted her legs, stuck out her (little-white-panty-clad) ass (gorgeous, tanned and undeniably squeezable buttocks) even further, closed her eyes, and removed all mental and physical locks from the magical gate of her anus.
At first nothing happened. "Thats just the way isn-" Michelle stopped her though as quickly as it began. Her insides had begun to move. "OhmiGod! OH MY GOD!", Michelle silently screamed, "Im actually going to do this! I must be CRAZY! Im actually going to stand right here, in the middle of nowhere with a great view, and poop (crap, dump a horrendously massive load) in my (little white cotton) panties."
Her insides continuing to move down and out, Michelle felt the gate of her anus once again begin to open, pushed now by a force, a mass,
destined only for escape. Michelles thoughts wickedly turned to sex once again and she found herself thinking about a certain flame shed had not
long ago who had just barely introduced her to the ideas of anal sexual stimulation. She hadnt minded his advances, even welcomed them, and now wished theyd had much longer to explore those avenues as Michelles current level of excitement felt very similar to that one night not long ago.
Michelles breathing once again became a pant, this time not from the effort of squeezing her ass (surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks oogled by too many men and possibly a few women), but rather from her very rapidly rising level of excitement, due to both her wicked decision to poop in her panties and to the feelings of her ass being forcibly opened - only from the inside.
"Oh yes! Oh yeah! Im actually going to poop in my panties! Right here! Right now! Oh yeah.... I can feel that poop pushing its way out..... I must be CRAZY to do this! Oh yeah.... I can feel it coming now. Oh yes. My ass is definitely opening- Oh! Its coming out! The poop is coming out! Im standing here doing it! I can feel the poop forcing its way out of my ass and into my panties!"
Michelle did indeed feel her ass open. This time however, she didn't immediately attempt to close that lovely gate, instead (more from the excitement now than from her anticipation of relief) she allowed the forcible opening and relished in the idea of the act she was consummating. Michelles ass continued to open and she felt the massive load poke out between her buttocks. Amazed at the size and the thrill she was experiencing, Michelle stole one hand down to the front of her crotch and gave just the tiniest of pushes to her wanton backside.
That little push did far more than Michelle imagined. Suddenly her body, realizing this was not a joke, not a false alarm, decided to go full bore with the operation and expel all which had been waiting for two days. "Oh....", moaned Michelle as another cramp, this one firmly pleasurable, washed over her body. She began to rub the front of her crotch faster and in serious earnest, concentrating only on the inhuman amount of pleasure she was causing herself.
"Oh yeah.... Crap in my panties. My little white cotton panties. Gonna dump a load in those panties, a massive load, then maybe leave them here for the next poor sucker. Oh yes. Feel that crap coming out of my ass. Right into those panties. Oh yeah...."
Michelles body now forcibly pushed her massive poop through her body, through her anus, out of her ass, and right into her (little-white-cotton) panties. The elastic resistance of those panties was no match for Michelles load and the poop stretched them to the limit. As she furiously assaulted her pussy with her hand and thought about all the naughty anal sex shed like to have in the near future, Michelle also thought about what her panties must look like as the poop slid out of her ass and stretched them. As the load continued to fill her panties, now bending around and squishing up against Michelles ass (the panties having reached their limit) Michelle enjoyed feeling the poop continue to slide out of her body. Every half-inch brought a new wave of pleasure as the irregular texture and size of the massive dump made contact with her anal opening. At last her feelings of delight started to come to a head and Michelle nearly cried out very loudly.
"Oh yes! OH YEAH! Im gonna cum right here and right now while Im pooping in my panties! IM CRAPPING IN MY PANTIES! DUMPING! AND NOW- OH GOD! OH YEAH! IM GONNA CUM NOW! OH YES! CUM RIGHT NOW WHILE IM DUMPING THE HUGEST LOAD IN MY PANTIES! OH YEAH! IM CUMMING! IM POOPING! CRAPPING IN MY PANTIES! OH YES! OH YEAH!"
Michelles hand became a blur between her legs, occasionally stealing back to feel the load as it continued to grow and stretch her panties. The poop continued push its way out and stretch her ass and Michelle knew shed never felt anything even remotely so exciting as pooping in her little white panties and cumming at the same time, all while standing out in the middle of nowhere, completely exposed to anybody who might happen along.
Michelle felt the leg bands of her panties beginning to stretch away from her legs and felt through the quakes and shudders of her orgasm, for the first time since it began, just a little bit worried. Part of her plan was that the panties would contain the mess, and now it seemed that the mess might just escape. At last though, Michelles body found itself beginning to feel empty, the final masses of poop squeezing their way out of her beautiful ass into her panties. Her orgasm also wound down, and Michelle had to steady herself so she wouldnt fall right on her butt and ruin half of the whole plan. Then, feeling her ass finally relax and close (as much as it could with all the poop pushed against it) and the shudders of her incredible orgasm subside, Michelle slowly straightened up her body and surveyed her condition.
"Good God", Michelle spoke aloud, "THAT was one MASSIVE DUMP. I feel like Ive lost about five pounds." She looked around and found much to her further relief that nobody had strayed her way while she did what she thought she could never, would never do. Michelle ran one hand around the back of her ass, gently felt the overly-large clump of turd mashed against her ass and found that although the panties had indeed pulled away from her legs and almost spilled their cargo all down into her shoes, things seemed intact. She also found the tiniest waves of excitement (no doubt remaining and excess energy from her orgasm) flow over her as she felt the huge bulge behind her.
"Well, now to rid myself of this shit for good." Michelle knew she wouldnt be able to take one step without bursting her little-white-cotton-panties, so she very carefully hooked her fingers into the waistband, and also very carefully pulled them down. The clump poop clung to both her ass and her panties and Michelle found that she had use one hand to pry the poop away from her ass (using the panties as a shield from having to actually touch the poop). The thick, heavy smell of poop assaulted and filled her nostrils in the early-morning still air and Michelle found it not altogether unpleasant. At last the poop gave up its battle to stay bound to Michelles gorgeous ass and the panties peeled precariously down but without incident. Michelle stepped carefully out of the panties, noting only one small smear on one white shoe.
"Now to clean up just a little of the mess." Michelle looked around her immediate area and found only scrub brush. She thought of her ass, coated and smeared with her poop, and knew she had to do something before pulling on her shorts. At last she spied a small clump of longer green grass about 20 feet away and made for it. Two steps and Michelle suddenly saw herself standing on the hillside naked from the waist down, her long tan reflecting the sunlight, and her tanned, round ass smeared slightly brown and sticking out behind her. The sight brought back all sorts of sexual feelings, but Michelle suppressed them for now, knowing she had to get back into her shorts and on her bicycle before more people came along.
A large handful of green grass proved a pretty good ass wiper, and when Michelle thought shed gotten most of it, she dropped the grass, regarded her now VERY brown stained (little-white-cotton) panties laying a short distance away, then quickly jumped down the hill to her bicycle. In less than a minute, shed successfully pulled on her shorts (now very much relieved at the lack of pressure from the elastic waistband), jumped on her bike and was pedaling up the hill as though nothing had happened.
Michelle reached the top of the hill in what seemed seconds, new energy having been poured into her body from the immense amount of pleasure and relief shed experienced not minutes before. Thought the view was wonderful, Michelle didnt even stop, now bound for home, comfort and more excitement. A few of the bumps in the initial part of the downhill brought another twinge from Michelle's lower body to her attention, and she remembered the wicked pleasure she'd gotten from expelling her waste into her panties.
Michelle let the pressure build up for about a minute (she took it slow and made sure to hit every bump), then stood up off the seat of her bike. "Lucky thing that seat is vinyl", thought Michelle, and relaxed her muscles. As with her previous exploit, at first nothing happened. Michelle gave a push, and was immediately rewarded with a warm flowing sensation in her crotch. Looking ahead, she saw two other bicyclists and a walker and knew immediately what she would do.
Michelle stopped the flow of her pee for just long enough to get within about 50 feet of the two bicyclists coming her way. Both were men, adding to her excitement, one of them pretty good looking. Almost not paying attention to what she was doing (all her concentration now on thoughts of peeing into her biking shorts), Michelle waved at the two men and said "good-morning". They waved back, clearly startled at having such a beautiful creature greet them. At that moment, Michelle opened her floodgates and let that worm, wet sensation fill her crotch and shorts. For just a moment, Michelle thought she could hear a hissing sound coming from her crotch as she forcefully pissed in her shorts, while riding right passed the two men.
The wetness continued to spread down and between Michelles legs as she coasted passed the walker (a woman going the same direction whose eyes became decidedly wide after Michelles passing). "No holds barred", thought Michelle as she squeezed the remainder of what seemed to be a nearly full bladder right into her shorts, down her legs, and onto the seat of the bicycle under her. At last the pee tapered off (it felt good, but not nearly as good as the pooping had felt) and Michelle sat down squarely on the seat of her bike delightfully relishing in the squishy noise made by her now very wet shorts.
It was an uneventful ride the rest of the way home, and Michelle immediately started a shower, after putting away her bike. She stepped in with both sweatshirt and shorts on, and thoroughly rinsed everything. Clean, she turned the valve on the bathtub controls and ran up a warm bath. Soon Michelle was laying back, her legs spread to either side of the top of the tub, one hand again furiously attacking her painfully excited pussy, the other with at first one, then two fingers buried deep in her ass, and another most delightful orgasm rocking her insides.
Then, as the orgasm abated Michelle spoke. "That's something I'm gonna have to do again," she said, and closed her eyes to relive it all over again.
<<< THE END >>>
MICHELLE
by Exit, September 1995
The day so far was perfect (as perfect as it can be before 7:00am) - a high overcast sky, no wind, and about 60-65 degrees. An absolutely perfect day for an early morning bicycle ride through the hills and out to the coast, then back before 9:00am to start the weekends last activities. And this is nearly everything Michelle thought of the lovely Sunday morning - that is until she felt the cramp halfway through the ride. "Damn", she thought to herself, "I havent been able to go for two days, I know I should have tried before I left, and now, NOW, right in the middle of my perfect ride, my body says go."
She quickly thought of the last two days: the late-night partying with good friends, the excellent food, and the drinking. Especially the drinking. Her plumbing hadnt had ANY problem with the fluid side of her diet. It must have been the delicious, diet-breaking, delights shed indulged in for the passed two days which had caused her problem. Now she was alone and several miles from any civilized relief. She thought quickly she could make it up the rest of the hill, and possibly home without incident, and pedaled on.
Michelle had long been a fan of early-morning bicycle rides. In fact, since shed ridden that coastal area when she was fourteen, some ten years ago, she knew without doubt shed never want to live anyplace other than where she could continue to experience the sheer beauty of an early Sunday morning spent in the hills overlooking the coast. Not many of her friends had ever joined her on the exploits, not even the few "physically-fit" boyfriends shed had. At best, most were willing to join her at the halfway mark for breakfast and shed often done just that - then sometimes cheated by getting a car ride back home. But most often, as was the case on this fine day, Michelle found herself completely alone - no fitness nuts, no tourists, no Sunday drivers - and completely
enjoyed it. Except for the lingering cramp.
Being somewhat of a rebel and a more than experienced bicycle rider, Michelle never wore a helmet when she rode (much to the amazement and horror of her less-than-experienced, quite yuppie friends who sometimes joined her) and now swept strands of her long blonde hair out of her eyes before mounting more energy into the vertical assault. She rode her mountain-bike today in anticipation of taking the dirt rode down the other side of the hill and felt shed been doing better than usual, passing various landmarks along the uphill road with considerably less effort. As always, she wore the spandex bicycle shorts (today was vibrant purple and grey) partly for the comfort and fit, partly because she got a small thrill from showing off her very fit body to others she
might see (though she never told of this lest her "friends" turn an evil eye toward her). Since the day was warm for a morning, she wore a grey sweatshirt, cut off just below her ample chest, and had the sleeves pushed up to the elbows. No T-shirt today due to the lack of wind.
Another 50 yards up the road and the cramp surged again. "Damn", she muttered aloud, and doubled her concentration on getting to the top of the hill. Unfortunately, Michelle had never quit or pooped-out in any of her fitness exploits. If she started something, she was determined, at times to her detriment, to finish. This was no different, and though she had more than ten miles left in the ride, Michelle felt she could make it. She KNEW she would make it.
Another 75 yards up the hill, Michelle became dreadfully aware that the tight waist of her spandex shorts was gouging her where it hurt most and seemed to be the principle cause of the cramps. With one hand, she carefully and quickly rolled the top of the shorts down about an inch, thinking it would change the pressure spot and thus alleviate the problem. This done, she rode on but very soon discovered that while the pressure spot changed, the amount of pressure doubled from the roll of spandex instead of just the single layer.
With a small gasp, Michelle once again grabbed her shorts with one hand and this time tugged up - hard. She brought the top of the sorts just above her belly-button, hoping maybe THAT would help. Seconds later, she realized it only made things worse, as now the pressure from the elastic bore down on the top of her intestinal tract, forcing her body to cramp. Without a choice, Michelle swore a few naughty words, placed her shorts back where they were to begin with and hoped there would be a portable toilet at the next tourist vista point.
As she rode on, Michelle tried hard to concentrate on her riding, the beautiful day, the gorgeous views she had from the hill (though shed seen them a million times before, those views never ceased to amaze her), and when all else failed, Michelle tried hard to think about sex. "That's the one thing", she momentarily remembered telling a friend, "the ONE thing you can always count on to bring you out of a mess. If youre falling asleep at the wheel, or have a headache which simply persists, think of sex." After that statement she remembered a long conversation about endorphins and what they may do to the body when you thought of certain things, like sex. And those endorphins were exactly what Michelle was counting on now because the pain of each cramp was only getting worse. So she thought of all the great sex shed ever had and ever wanted to have, and kept pedaling.
At last Michelle saw the vista point ahead. It had only been about a half-mile from where shed started thinking about sex, but the ride had seemed to take hours. Now poor Michelle was in considerable pain (no doubt aided and magnified by her bicycling - no to mention the spandex shorts) and was also very horny. "All that sex I've always wanted to have", she said to herself and was almost startled at the break in silence. Though her Sunday-morning exploits had always been accompanied by very few people out on the same trail, she never had been out on a day so completely alone. Another cramp surged and Michelle put all thoughts of other rides, and being alone out of her mind. Fortunately, her thoughts of sex persisted, and she doggedly closed on the vista point.
Sure enough, the transportation engineers could be counted on. At one edge of the turnout was a tall, rectangular item - the never-confused-with-anything-else, and always revered portable toilet. Michelle pedaled up to it as quickly as possible, jumped off her bicycle, and nearly without a care laid it right down on the hard dirt. Then, no sooner had she turned to the toilet with all the relief of a finishing pentathlete, that a moan escaped her lips.
Sure, those transportation engineers (a.k.a. "roadside assholes") could always be counted on. They could always be counted on to lock up their precious equipment safe and sound, lest some marauding band of teenagers make off with an entire portable toilet in the middle of the night. Before bursting with frustration, Michelle caught a brief mental image of a gigantic blue Chevy, weaving down the road with an entire portable outhouse sticking comically out of the trunk. It didn't help matters one bit because she laughed at that thought, and immediately had to cross her tanned and toned legs and bend over to keep a certain gate from opening.
After some moments of deep concentration, Michelle pulled the waist band of her shorts away from her abdomen with her fingers and immediately felt relief. A thought struck her then, and she quickly dismissed it as impossible. Then, as soon as she gently let go of the elastic, the cramps surged again and that impossible thought sprang back to the very forefront of her mind.
"You're all alone out here. Its still another mile, at least, to the top of the hill. If you relieve the pressure for that amount of time, it may stay gone for long enough to make it home and take care of things properly." Thoughts swarmed over her mind. She found herself horny enough already from all the concentrating on sex, let alone strange feelings from the uncomfortable pressure in her lower sections. Sure, without the shorts, nothing would separate her bare ass from the rest of the world except the thin cotton lining of her little white panties. And sure, someone might just see her riding up the rest of the hill like that. But she hadnt seen a soul thus far, it wasnt cold out, and if the cramps went away, she could always put the spandex shorts back on at the top of the hill, and coast most of the rest of the way home. Strangely for Michelle, the idea of riding in nothing but a cut off sweatshirt and panties, out in the middle of nowhere, produced more wetness than had her ride so far. It was probably this alone which Michelle based her final decision on.
Without another thought, Michelle peeled down her spandex shorts (and felt immense relief in doing so) and stowed them securely in the under-seat bag on her bicycle. Then, after another moments concentration (during which Michelle became alarmingly aware of how full she felt), she picked up the bike, carefully climbed on, and continued her assault up the hill.
Having never ridden a bicycle nude, or even really close to nude, Michelle found a great thrill in feeling the air blow by her now nearly exposed crotch and bare upper thighs. Soon she found herself seated more firmly on the tiny mountain-bike seat, grinding just the barest amount against it. Every bump, jolt, or movement her body made against the hard vinyl of the seat sent strong shivers up her back. These bumps and vibrations also induced interesting, somewhat exciting tingles in the other side of her lower body - no doubt due to her present condition - and Michelle found that she didnt really mind those tingles. The weather had turned surprisingly warm all of the sudden, and Michelle thought she may not be able to wear this particular pair of panties again after this
trip.
It was about one half-mile from the top of the hill that Michelle heard voices. Unfortunately, because at that point there was really nowhere to stop and completely hide, Michelle stopped her ride, leaned the bicycle against the side of the hill, and climbed up into the brush. She spied one particular set of bushes about 100 feet up the hill, decided they'd make for the best cover, and quickened her pace.
At last she reached the clump of tight bushes and squeezed through, luckily without scratching herself on any of the stiff branches. Her cover was well-picked: about five feet high, it hid her on three sides and still allowed her to watch the road and her bicycle. Then, as the voices grew louder, Michelle crouched down just enough to be completely hidden, and suddenly realized a problem.
Having relieved herself of the spandex shorts and thus the pressure, her body responded by not cramping. However, now that she found herself nearly exposed, and more than a little nervous, the cramps returned - with a vengeance.
Suddenly Michelle had no idea what to do except stand crouched behind the bushes, cross her legs as tight as she ever could, clench he fists and prey. The riders had now come into view and were bearing down quickly on the place where her bicycle rested. "What a strange sight," Michelle thought through her clenched eyes, "to see a person's bicycle abandoned this far out." She hoped against hope the riders would not also realize his and merrily continue on their little way. However, a certain squeaking of brakes, known all-too-well to those who frequently ride bicycles, shattered every prayer Michelle had at the moment.
Though she could not hear them, Michelle could see the riders now clustered near her bicycle, talking and occasionally pointing at it. It as a group of two men and two women, and Michelle thought for just a moment shed like to have those two somewhat "yuppie" men up in the bushes with her, servicing every whim she could think of - after she took care of one certain, rather pressing (a complete understatement) problem. "Please, oh please, oh please go away. Just go on. The bike is safe, Ill be back down to get it in a moment. Just go away and everything will be fine." Then, as if to answer her whispered prayer, one of the men dismounted his bicycle and sat down, obviously to watch the disappeared riders bicycle until he or she returned.
"Oh Jesus Christ!", muttered Michelle, partly from the mans ignorant action, but mostly from the immense cramp squeezing her bowels. The two days without a significant trip to the ladies room was paying off now, oh yes it was, and Michelle swore at that moment to never let something like this happen again. Sure, they were absolutely impossible-to-determine circumstances, but hey, anybody with a little sense could know to try to poop before a ride, especially after not having gone for two whole days.
Now the other man and one of the women also dismounted, laid down their bikes and sat on the ground. They seemed to talk happily, one of the women obviously glad for the momentary rest. Michelle moaned quietly in her pain and wished theyd go away and mind their own goodie-goodie business. "Cant you see I need to poop?", she asked to the air in front of her. "Dont you understand? Sometimes people dont need to be helped or watched over!" Another cramp, this one lasting almost 10 seconds (Michelle counted) washed over her frame and for the first time she thought she might not make it.
"To hell with that idea", whispered Michelle, "If only I had some toilet paper, I might just be tempted to do it right here. Just peel down my little white panties, do it right here, and leave it for the next person who has to go so bad. Right here, big and stinky." This last thought aught in Michelles mind and she found herself replacing the word "big" with "huge", then "absolutely huge". These thoughts began a small fit of laughter, and Michelle found herself all at once losing control.
"Oh no! OH NO!", she shrieked silently, "NOT HERE! I WAS KIDDING!" Once again, Michelle was made VERY aware of just how full she was, just how much digested food was stacked up in her bowels, hollering incessantly for escape. Then, as the cramp and her laughter intensified and her control rapidly diminished, Michelles insides turned to ice as she felt all of that fullness begin to move.
"Oh God! Oh No!" Michelle doubled her efforts and squeezed her legs together in a way and with a force they seemed never meant to produce, hoping against all hope she might stop the quake in her body from which the seemingly inevitable might come. Tears from the effort began to pool in the corners of her eyes, her stomach tied itself in a knot, and poor Michelle stood there, breathing heavily, preying for a miracle. "Oh my God Ive never had to poop this bad ever in my life before. Oh please oh please oh please just stop. Just stop moving and let me get on with my ride, let me get home safe and sound and Ill take care of everything nice and proper." The prayer, even by the greatest stretch of the imagination, was not working and Michelle felt her tiny puckered hole (surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks oogled by too many men and possibly a few women) begin to
stretch open. "OH NO! OH GOD! IM GOING TO POOP IN MY (little white) PANTIES!!" Shrieked Michelle to herself. One of the women turned her head to the hill, as if shed heard something and Michelle made effort to keep quieter along with force her ass closed and keep the turd out of her panties. "Oh God oh God oh God", she panted, "Here I am, standing out in the middle of nowhere, luckily tucked behind a bush, standing in nothing but a sweatshirt and my (little white) panties with people not 100 feet away, and Im about to poop, crap, dump a load - a huge load - into my panties." Then, to her horror (and some other feeling - was it excitement?) Michelle felt just the slightest bit of poop escape her anus, finding a home between her oh-so-toned buttocks. It was warm and
slightly hard, feeling almost like a half-sized marble in her panties. "Oh God. Oh no.", she uttered and found her breathing very labored. Michelle concentrated more than ever on closing that magic gate, now decisively opened (and surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks), and once again thought of sex. Unfortunately, and to add yet another surprising aspect to her situation, for poor Michelle, this was exactly the wrong idea - the feelings and excitement of her current predicament somehow stepped up her level of sexual want, and Michelle, for just a split second, almost let the whole thing go - right there, standing up, and into her (little white) panties.
Finally the riders oh-so-nicely watching over her bicycle got up, mounted their own bikes, and rode on. "Assholes", thought Michelle, "If I were watching someones bike, Id at least stay there until they returned, or maybe call out for them, or something." Her relief, however at watching the group move on was close to the initial relief of removing those spandex shorts. After a few seconds of amazing concentration and muscle control, and seemingly without a moment to lose, Michelle stood up straight, tested her control (again amazed at the amount of fullness she felt), then quickly picked her way out of the bushes.
While carefully climbing back down the hill, Michelle felt the marble of poop squishing and rolling around between her buttocks and for some nknown-to-her-reason, found it wickedly pleasurable. "Must be all that thinking about sex", she thought, "I couldnt actually be getting hot over this." And then, not 50 feet from her point of seeming salvation, to poor Michelles complete and absolute horror, the cramp of all cramps decided to rack her body. Right there, between her lovely little hiding spot and her bicycle, without warning, Michelle felt her lower body flex in a manner NOT to be denied.
Slamming her fists to her thighs, Michelle crossed her legs, and bent forward in a concentrated effort to keep the maximum amount of muscle ressure on her anus (surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks). Unfortunately, this squeezing also heightened the sensation of that single escapee, that slightly-warm and almost hard marble of poop now trapped firmly between the undeniably squeezable buttocks of her ass. "Oh Lord", panted Michelle, "I cant believe this. Here I am, no totally exposed to any person happening to come along, about to poop (crap, dump a load) in my (little white) panties, wearing nothing else, and I CANT MOVE!" She felt her body increase the pressure of the cramp and realized quickly that because of
that single escapee (now trapped firmly between the undeniably squeezable buttocks of her ass), her anus and its internal path have already, for all intents and purposes (in this case only one purpose) been "greased". The poop which now forced against the inner door of Michelles anus would have an easier job of escaping (dumping into little white panties), and thus, Michelle would have to make an even stronger effort than before to keep that from happening.
"Oh God. OH GOD!", shrieked Michelle as quietly as she could as she felt the massive snake of poop once again begin to move deep in her body. "Oh.... If only...." But out in the places of nowhere, at least in this life, there are no "if onlys" and Michelle could only stand there, sticking out her beautiful white-panty clad ass, and pant as the inevitable seemed ready to happen.
Unfortunately for her predicament, yet fortunately for her sanity, Michelles mind began to do an about-face. "Well, if I let this (massive load) go in my (little white) panties, sure it would be messy, but I could strip them off, grab my shorts, and make the rest of the way back without any more problem than uncomfort." For a moment, Michelles realization of pain and cramps subsided as she pondered her new thought. "Then I could immediately run a shower and wash everything off, and be clean and comfortable. Of course, if I stop now and attempt to pull off my (little white) panties and poop (crap, dump this horrendous load) here on the ground, not only would I most definitely not make it and wind up pooping all over myself, but anybody coming along would most certainly know what I was doing." Mental relief began to wash over Michelles body like cold water. "But if I let myself poop in my panties, right here and
now, not only will they (hopefully) contain the mess, but allow me to travel back in painless discomfort."
Suddenly the waves of physical pain and cramping, caused only by the massive poop screaming to escape Michelles ass, intensified to a point at which Michelle thought she just might faint. On the other hand, her new realization of painless discomfort kept her from that unconscious point, knowing that relief was only a step (one hell of a socially unacceptable step) away. Coupled with that socially unacceptable step, were all sorts of feelings of wickedness, taboo, and sexual pleasure from doing something so bad, so un-right (but was it really?) and in the middle of all her cramping, Michelle felt more wetness escape the spot just in front of her concentration.
"Too hell with this", Michelle spoke aloud, "Im gonna do it right here."
With that preamble, Michelle parted her legs, stuck out her (little-white-panty-clad) ass (gorgeous, tanned and undeniably squeezable buttocks) even further, closed her eyes, and removed all mental and physical locks from the magical gate of her anus.
At first nothing happened. "Thats just the way isn-" Michelle stopped her though as quickly as it began. Her insides had begun to move. "OhmiGod! OH MY GOD!", Michelle silently screamed, "Im actually going to do this! I must be CRAZY! Im actually going to stand right here, in the middle of nowhere with a great view, and poop (crap, dump a horrendously massive load) in my (little white cotton) panties."
Her insides continuing to move down and out, Michelle felt the gate of her anus once again begin to open, pushed now by a force, a mass,
destined only for escape. Michelles thoughts wickedly turned to sex once again and she found herself thinking about a certain flame shed had not
long ago who had just barely introduced her to the ideas of anal sexual stimulation. She hadnt minded his advances, even welcomed them, and now wished theyd had much longer to explore those avenues as Michelles current level of excitement felt very similar to that one night not long ago.
Michelles breathing once again became a pant, this time not from the effort of squeezing her ass (surrounded by one hell of a sphincter muscle and two gorgeous, round and tanned buttocks oogled by too many men and possibly a few women), but rather from her very rapidly rising level of excitement, due to both her wicked decision to poop in her panties and to the feelings of her ass being forcibly opened - only from the inside.
"Oh yes! Oh yeah! Im actually going to poop in my panties! Right here! Right now! Oh yeah.... I can feel that poop pushing its way out..... I must be CRAZY to do this! Oh yeah.... I can feel it coming now. Oh yes. My ass is definitely opening- Oh! Its coming out! The poop is coming out! Im standing here doing it! I can feel the poop forcing its way out of my ass and into my panties!"
Michelle did indeed feel her ass open. This time however, she didn't immediately attempt to close that lovely gate, instead (more from the excitement now than from her anticipation of relief) she allowed the forcible opening and relished in the idea of the act she was consummating. Michelles ass continued to open and she felt the massive load poke out between her buttocks. Amazed at the size and the thrill she was experiencing, Michelle stole one hand down to the front of her crotch and gave just the tiniest of pushes to her wanton backside.
That little push did far more than Michelle imagined. Suddenly her body, realizing this was not a joke, not a false alarm, decided to go full bore with the operation and expel all which had been waiting for two days. "Oh....", moaned Michelle as another cramp, this one firmly pleasurable, washed over her body. She began to rub the front of her crotch faster and in serious earnest, concentrating only on the inhuman amount of pleasure she was causing herself.
"Oh yeah.... Crap in my panties. My little white cotton panties. Gonna dump a load in those panties, a massive load, then maybe leave them here for the next poor sucker. Oh yes. Feel that crap coming out of my ass. Right into those panties. Oh yeah...."
Michelles body now forcibly pushed her massive poop through her body, through her anus, out of her ass, and right into her (little-white-cotton) panties. The elastic resistance of those panties was no match for Michelles load and the poop stretched them to the limit. As she furiously assaulted her pussy with her hand and thought about all the naughty anal sex shed like to have in the near future, Michelle also thought about what her panties must look like as the poop slid out of her ass and stretched them. As the load continued to fill her panties, now bending around and squishing up against Michelles ass (the panties having reached their limit) Michelle enjoyed feeling the poop continue to slide out of her body. Every half-inch brought a new wave of pleasure as the irregular texture and size of the massive dump made contact with her anal opening. At last her feelings of delight started to come to a head and Michelle nearly cried out very loudly.
"Oh yes! OH YEAH! Im gonna cum right here and right now while Im pooping in my panties! IM CRAPPING IN MY PANTIES! DUMPING! AND NOW- OH GOD! OH YEAH! IM GONNA CUM NOW! OH YES! CUM RIGHT NOW WHILE IM DUMPING THE HUGEST LOAD IN MY PANTIES! OH YEAH! IM CUMMING! IM POOPING! CRAPPING IN MY PANTIES! OH YES! OH YEAH!"
Michelles hand became a blur between her legs, occasionally stealing back to feel the load as it continued to grow and stretch her panties. The poop continued push its way out and stretch her ass and Michelle knew shed never felt anything even remotely so exciting as pooping in her little white panties and cumming at the same time, all while standing out in the middle of nowhere, completely exposed to anybody who might happen along.
Michelle felt the leg bands of her panties beginning to stretch away from her legs and felt through the quakes and shudders of her orgasm, for the first time since it began, just a little bit worried. Part of her plan was that the panties would contain the mess, and now it seemed that the mess might just escape. At last though, Michelles body found itself beginning to feel empty, the final masses of poop squeezing their way out of her beautiful ass into her panties. Her orgasm also wound down, and Michelle had to steady herself so she wouldnt fall right on her butt and ruin half of the whole plan. Then, feeling her ass finally relax and close (as much as it could with all the poop pushed against it) and the shudders of her incredible orgasm subside, Michelle slowly straightened up her body and surveyed her condition.
"Good God", Michelle spoke aloud, "THAT was one MASSIVE DUMP. I feel like Ive lost about five pounds." She looked around and found much to her further relief that nobody had strayed her way while she did what she thought she could never, would never do. Michelle ran one hand around the back of her ass, gently felt the overly-large clump of turd mashed against her ass and found that although the panties had indeed pulled away from her legs and almost spilled their cargo all down into her shoes, things seemed intact. She also found the tiniest waves of excitement (no doubt remaining and excess energy from her orgasm) flow over her as she felt the huge bulge behind her.
"Well, now to rid myself of this shit for good." Michelle knew she wouldnt be able to take one step without bursting her little-white-cotton-panties, so she very carefully hooked her fingers into the waistband, and also very carefully pulled them down. The clump poop clung to both her ass and her panties and Michelle found that she had use one hand to pry the poop away from her ass (using the panties as a shield from having to actually touch the poop). The thick, heavy smell of poop assaulted and filled her nostrils in the early-morning still air and Michelle found it not altogether unpleasant. At last the poop gave up its battle to stay bound to Michelles gorgeous ass and the panties peeled precariously down but without incident. Michelle stepped carefully out of the panties, noting only one small smear on one white shoe.
"Now to clean up just a little of the mess." Michelle looked around her immediate area and found only scrub brush. She thought of her ass, coated and smeared with her poop, and knew she had to do something before pulling on her shorts. At last she spied a small clump of longer green grass about 20 feet away and made for it. Two steps and Michelle suddenly saw herself standing on the hillside naked from the waist down, her long tan reflecting the sunlight, and her tanned, round ass smeared slightly brown and sticking out behind her. The sight brought back all sorts of sexual feelings, but Michelle suppressed them for now, knowing she had to get back into her shorts and on her bicycle before more people came along.
A large handful of green grass proved a pretty good ass wiper, and when Michelle thought shed gotten most of it, she dropped the grass, regarded her now VERY brown stained (little-white-cotton) panties laying a short distance away, then quickly jumped down the hill to her bicycle. In less than a minute, shed successfully pulled on her shorts (now very much relieved at the lack of pressure from the elastic waistband), jumped on her bike and was pedaling up the hill as though nothing had happened.
Michelle reached the top of the hill in what seemed seconds, new energy having been poured into her body from the immense amount of pleasure and relief shed experienced not minutes before. Thought the view was wonderful, Michelle didnt even stop, now bound for home, comfort and more excitement. A few of the bumps in the initial part of the downhill brought another twinge from Michelle's lower body to her attention, and she remembered the wicked pleasure she'd gotten from expelling her waste into her panties.
Michelle let the pressure build up for about a minute (she took it slow and made sure to hit every bump), then stood up off the seat of her bike. "Lucky thing that seat is vinyl", thought Michelle, and relaxed her muscles. As with her previous exploit, at first nothing happened. Michelle gave a push, and was immediately rewarded with a warm flowing sensation in her crotch. Looking ahead, she saw two other bicyclists and a walker and knew immediately what she would do.
Michelle stopped the flow of her pee for just long enough to get within about 50 feet of the two bicyclists coming her way. Both were men, adding to her excitement, one of them pretty good looking. Almost not paying attention to what she was doing (all her concentration now on thoughts of peeing into her biking shorts), Michelle waved at the two men and said "good-morning". They waved back, clearly startled at having such a beautiful creature greet them. At that moment, Michelle opened her floodgates and let that worm, wet sensation fill her crotch and shorts. For just a moment, Michelle thought she could hear a hissing sound coming from her crotch as she forcefully pissed in her shorts, while riding right passed the two men.
The wetness continued to spread down and between Michelles legs as she coasted passed the walker (a woman going the same direction whose eyes became decidedly wide after Michelles passing). "No holds barred", thought Michelle as she squeezed the remainder of what seemed to be a nearly full bladder right into her shorts, down her legs, and onto the seat of the bicycle under her. At last the pee tapered off (it felt good, but not nearly as good as the pooping had felt) and Michelle sat down squarely on the seat of her bike delightfully relishing in the squishy noise made by her now very wet shorts.
It was an uneventful ride the rest of the way home, and Michelle immediately started a shower, after putting away her bike. She stepped in with both sweatshirt and shorts on, and thoroughly rinsed everything. Clean, she turned the valve on the bathtub controls and ran up a warm bath. Soon Michelle was laying back, her legs spread to either side of the top of the tub, one hand again furiously attacking her painfully excited pussy, the other with at first one, then two fingers buried deep in her ass, and another most delightful orgasm rocking her insides.
Then, as the orgasm abated Michelle spoke. "That's something I'm gonna have to do again," she said, and closed her eyes to relive it all over again.
<<< THE END >>>
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By: Comfortably Anonymous
Times Read: 13,839
Likes: 0 Dislikes: 0
Topic: Humor
By: Comfortably Anonymous
Times Read: 13,839
Likes: 0 Dislikes: 0
Topic: Humor
By: Comfortably Anonymous
Times Read: 13,839
Likes: 0 Dislikes: 0
Topic: Humor
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Michelle goes for a bike ride
Posted: 3/8/2000 11:35:30 PMBy: Comfortably Anonymous
Times Read: 13,839
Likes: 0 Dislikes: 0
Topic: Humor
i love your story, i am right in to what your talking about. i would love to here more from you. is this michelle person real did it realy happen
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Michelle goes for a bike ride
Posted: 3/8/2000 11:35:30 PMBy: Comfortably Anonymous
Times Read: 13,839
Likes: 0 Dislikes: 0
Topic: Humor
spent the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year of college suckling on the parental teat in South Florida. It was the absolute prime of my “do anything to get laid” phase. I was recently freed from a 4-year long-distance relationship that began in high school and I wanted nothing more than to have sex with as many girls as possible.
Most of the things I did that summer are not story-worthy; you can only tell the same, “I got drunk on Dom and fucked this hottie” story so many times before it gets annoying. That summer I experienced every random sex situation that a 20 year old can imagine: fucking on the beach, getting head from random girls in club bathrooms, sleeping with 3 different girls in a day, getting so drunk I passed out during sex, getting arrested for receiving fellatio in the pool at the Delano, blah, blah, blah…Jesus. What does it say about how fucked up my life is that I don’t consider these stories to be extraordinary anymore?
Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception…
was seeing one girl, “Jaime,” about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to South Beach, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.
The ex-girlfriend of 4-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn’t know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I’d missed out on (when I wasn’t cheating on her, of course).
Buttsex, known in the biz as “anal,” was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.
She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn’t keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:
Jaime “But…I’ve never done it.”
Tucker “I’ve never done it either; it can be our thing.”
Jaime “But…I don’t know if I’ll like it.”
Tucker “You won’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”
Jaime “But…I like normal sex.”
Tucker “Everyone’s doing anal. It’s the new black.”
Jaime “But…I don’t know…it seems weird.”
Tucker “It’s the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don’t you want to do runways in Europe?”
After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:
“OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Forge or Tantra, NOT one of your parent’s restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I’m tired of being your Monday night girl.”
I made reservations for the next Friday at Tantra. Aside from being insanely expensive, Tantra is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as “aphrodisiac cuisine.” Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.
Thanks to my father’s connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn’t about to let a $400 tab get in my way.
By the time we left Tantra, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.
Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.
[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 27 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 21, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations….but of course, I’m still going to write about it.]
This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life…so I decided to film us.
I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera…without telling her.
That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera…I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.
No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I’m just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.
I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.
By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, “I’m ready.”
I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.
A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn’t have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world’s best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.
The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, “Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she’ll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.”
Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 21, this seemed logical.
I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.
But Tucker Max wasn’t done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.
Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.
Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint “psssst” sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.
It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:
“Did you…did you just…shit on my dick?”
I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.
I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.
I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.
She turned her head, said, “Tucker, what are you doing?,” saw me vomiting on her, screamed “Oh my God!,” and immediately joined me:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.
I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHAAAHAHAHAHAAAABBBBLLAAAAAAHHHH”
The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies. I have never heard anyone laughing at their fullest while at the same time hurling their guts.
I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime’s, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:
“OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH.”
She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.
The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a
shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.
POST-SCRIPT:
The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.
I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.
What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn’t get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn’t bring a purse or any money with her).
Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.
I'm hoping she reads this. Maybe then I’ll find out how she got home.
Most of the things I did that summer are not story-worthy; you can only tell the same, “I got drunk on Dom and fucked this hottie” story so many times before it gets annoying. That summer I experienced every random sex situation that a 20 year old can imagine: fucking on the beach, getting head from random girls in club bathrooms, sleeping with 3 different girls in a day, getting so drunk I passed out during sex, getting arrested for receiving fellatio in the pool at the Delano, blah, blah, blah…Jesus. What does it say about how fucked up my life is that I don’t consider these stories to be extraordinary anymore?
Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception…
was seeing one girl, “Jaime,” about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to South Beach, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.
The ex-girlfriend of 4-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she’d had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn’t know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I’d missed out on (when I wasn’t cheating on her, of course).
Buttsex, known in the biz as “anal,” was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.
She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn’t keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:
Jaime “But…I’ve never done it.”
Tucker “I’ve never done it either; it can be our thing.”
Jaime “But…I don’t know if I’ll like it.”
Tucker “You won’t have to worry about getting pregnant.”
Jaime “But…I like normal sex.”
Tucker “Everyone’s doing anal. It’s the new black.”
Jaime “But…I don’t know…it seems weird.”
Tucker “It’s the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don’t you want to do runways in Europe?”
After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:
“OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Forge or Tantra, NOT one of your parent’s restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I’m tired of being your Monday night girl.”
I made reservations for the next Friday at Tantra. Aside from being insanely expensive, Tantra is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as “aphrodisiac cuisine.” Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.
Thanks to my father’s connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn’t about to let a $400 tab get in my way.
By the time we left Tantra, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.
Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.
[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 27 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 21, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations….but of course, I’m still going to write about it.]
This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life…so I decided to film us.
I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera…without telling her.
That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera…I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.
No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I’m just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.
I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.
By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, “I’m ready.”
I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.
A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn’t have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world’s best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.
The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, “Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she’ll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it’s smooth sailing from there.”
Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 21, this seemed logical.
I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.
But Tucker Max wasn’t done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable.
Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.
Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.
Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint “psssst” sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.
It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:
“Did you…did you just…shit on my dick?”
I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.
I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.
I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.
She turned her head, said, “Tucker, what are you doing?,” saw me vomiting on her, screamed “Oh my God!,” and immediately joined me:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH”
Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.
I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:
“BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHAAAHAHAHAHAAAABBBBLLAAAAAAHHHH”
The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies. I have never heard anyone laughing at their fullest while at the same time hurling their guts.
I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime’s, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:
“OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH.”
She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.
The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a
shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.
POST-SCRIPT:
The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.
I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.
What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn’t get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn’t bring a purse or any money with her).
Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.
I'm hoping she reads this. Maybe then I’ll find out how she got home.
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Michelle goes for a bike ride
Posted: 3/8/2000 11:35:30 PMBy: Comfortably Anonymous
Times Read: 13,839
Likes: 0 Dislikes: 0
Topic: Humor
It's four thirty a.m. and the house is asleep.
I. . . am not asleep.
I am crouched in the bathtub in a frog-like stance, small puddles of urine and liquid shit at my feet. I'm leaning forward, gripping the side of the tub and biting my knee, overwhelmed by a mixture of pain and pleasure as I piston a dildo in and out of my ass.
You see, I really love anal masturbation.
Ever try it? No? You should.
Doesn't matter who you are. God gave all of us, male and female, an abundance of nerve endings in our rectum - and one life to live. So why don't you go ahead and test out the equipment? Have some fun. No point in having a gun sitting on your shelf your entire life and never killing anyone, right?
But I realize there's a fairly persistent misconception among guys that I'm gonna have to dispel before we go any further:
Stimulating your own ass is not "gay."
That notion doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I mean, how could anything you do to your own body be gay? Nobody ever freaks out in the middle of jerking off like "Holy fuck, I've got a fistful of cock! I've gotta cut this gay shit out!" Well, what's the philosophical difference between playing with your dick and playing with your ass?
There is none.
Look fellas, here's the scoop:
If you have a girl wearing a foot long strap-on, smacking your face and screaming "WHO'S MY BITCH?!?" while she pounds your asshole until it bleeds, that would be a *heterosexual* act. Girl on guy. Simple.
Now if it's a guy that's fucking you, that would be homosexual. And if you're doing it to yourself, well, that's plain old masturbation.
But listen - if you're still sitting there being stubborn, all macho and uptight going "My ass. . . is EXIT ONLY!!!" then lemme just ask you a question.
You know that feeling you get when you take a really big shit?
You know what I'm talking about. You're sitting on the couch, eating Cheez-Its and watching Larry King, when all of the sudden you feel that familiar burning. . . so you get up and bound off to the bathroom all bow legged, clenching your sphincter real tight, and then you furiously rip off your boxer briefs and plop down on the seat just in time to let a huuuuuuge thick turd come sliding out of your ass?
Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!
That feeling.
That tingling, chills up your spine, this-is-absolutely-the-pinnacle-of-human-existence feeling.
Well guess what. That's the feeling of a massive rod moving through your rectum, tickling those wonderfully abundant nerve endings. You love it. It's okay. We all do. It doesn't make you a fag. Or at the very least, we're ALL fags. So indulge yourself.
(Yes, I understand that said feeling is partially due to the sensory experience of toxins leaving the body, which is unique to defecation - but the operative word here is "partially." You like the log movement, too. Don't try to argue.)
So anyway, now that you've decided to be bold, and not a homophobic pussy, and poke around the cornhole a little bit - good for you. But there's something you should remember. Anal masturbation is just like playing the accordion, or shooting a jumper, or really anything else that's worth doing. That is, it requires practice.
You see, back when I was a kid I would get curious and stick a finger or a toothbrush up there, but I wasn't fucking around with anywhere near the kind of pleasure I'm achieving now. It was uncomfortable even. So I worked on it.
And conversely, I know I'm still far from expertise in this particular discipline. I don't claim to be an ass master. There's a whole world of lengths, girths, textures, and vibrations that my eager browneye has yet to inhale.
But since I have honed my skills to a pretty decent level, I'll share with you my current technique. Without further ado:
SpunkyBrewster's Anal Masturbation Technique
What You Need:
1. Lubricant of your choice
2. Fake cock (eight inches, approx.)
3. Ridged anal wand (seven inches, approx.)
Procedure:
1. Apply a generous amount of lube to your index finger, and swirl the lubricated finger lightly around your butthole. Add another drop or two of lube, and then simultaneously push your finger into your butthole while pushing back with your anus muscles.
2. Slide your finger into your ass up to the knuckle and feel around for turds. Unless you're an anorexic, you probably will come across one.
3. Circle your finger around your anal walls pressing outward, as if you were an umpire signaling a home run. You should be near the toilet, because this is intended to stimulate a bowel movement. Once you've shit, and your rectum is empty, then you're ready for some heavy duty fun.
4. Lube up a second finger and slip them both into your poopchute. Let your asshole get comfortable with the new mass, and then begin to pump a little. Repeat with a third finger if you so desire.
5. Slather lube all over the ridged anal wand. Squat over your tool and press the tip to your now greasy anus. Just as you've done with your fingers, ease the dildo into your cornhole as you push back onto it with your ass muscles. Go slowly, stopping at each ridge and letting your ass adjust to the increase in width, until you have it in as far as it will go.
6. Now it's time to start pounding. I'm not gonna get more specific than that. Do it your own way. Experiment with different positions and rhythms until you find what you like.
7. Once your ass has been thoroughly fucked by the anal wand, it's time to move up to the larger dildo. Again, you're going to repeat the process that you've done twice already, with your fingers and the wand. Entering slowly, pushing back on it, letting yourself adjust, and then starting to pump.
8. At this point your asshole is really loose, gaping even, and it's time to move on to my favorite part. Crouch down, or get into whatever position you feel comfortable with, and hold the fake cock in one hand and the wand in the other. Work the fake cock in and out, building the pace until you are doing a high intensity rectal plundering. Slide it in really deep, pause, then pull it out all the way - quickly jamming in the anal wand to fill its place. The rapid transition from smooth to ridged textures will send waves out of pleasure rippling through your entire body. Then give yourself a nice hard fuck with the anal wand, and repeat as many times as you'd like.
*In carrying out these steps - even if you take the dump at the beginning - you still might at some point fuck the shit out of yourself. This is why I recommend doing it in a bathtub, or on some other surface that is easy to clean. Now at first you might be squeamish about the poo, but I think that as you get hardcore into the pleasure of all this, you'll just naturally get desensitized. Kind of like a heroin addict quickly gets over his fear of needles.
In fact, I've found that the right kind of poo can easily be incorporated into the festivities. Sometimes while I'm pounding away I will feel a sudden rush of heat travel through my ass, and I'll know that I'm coating the dildo with a somewhat viscous liquid shit. At this point in the ass ramming, my pain tolerance is rather high, so I'll simply jam the shitty dildo back up my ass, and let the sudden decrease in lubrication create an effect similar to the aforementioned smooth-to-ridged transition. As a matter of fact, this is probably the most intense sensation that I've come across in my entire anal masturbatory experience.*
So that's how it's done. Quite the activity, I must say. Maybe next time you're feeling bored and restless, you can give it a shot. Unless you're a fucking prude, in which case I'd recommend suicide. Or do a goddamn crossword puzzle, I don't really care.
One more thing I want to say on the subject: I really think anal penetration should be an Olympic sport. Wouldn't that be neat? I mean for Christ sakes, we've all seen how much those little Japanese bastards can eat - can you imagine how much they could stuff up the other end? It could even be a team sport where one of them has to take their partner's entire head up their ass.
Well. . . I don't really know how much support I'm gonna get for my petition to add competitive rectal insertion to the Olympic Games, we'll have to see - but seriously, speed walking? FUCKING CURLING?!? It would be far from the dumbest event on the schedule.
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When I was 17, my parents had an 15 year old female exchange student from Spain. My parents wanted a girl that could hang out with my little sister. My sister and Veronica (the exchange student) didn't get along very well, but they still did a few things together. I was in heaven to have such a hot girl always hanging around our house. And, the best part was that she always wore such skimpy clothes and even occasionally changed clothes without shutting the bedroom door. I caught a few glimpses of her in just her panties and bra. She had such a perfect body and dark smooth skin.
One day, my mom informed me that I would be taking my sister and Veronica to the mall. I hate the mall, but I agreed--mostly just to get the chance to walk around behind Veronica and stare at her perfect ass as she walked around the mall in the tight mini skirt she was wearing that day. When we got to the mall, my sister ran into a group of friends that she knew from school, and she took off leaving Veronica alone with me. I felt a bit uncomfortable, but Veronica said in her broken English that she needed to buy clothes. So, we went into JC Penney. I tagged along with her as she picked out some clothes and a swimsuit. Then she headed over to the dressing rooms. I sat down outside to wait for her. After a few seconds she came out in one of the outfits and asked how I liked it. I said she looked very beautiful, and she kinda blushed at that. Then she told me to come into the dressing room for a second. I asked her why, and she said she wanted to know if I liked the swimsuit, but she didn't want to have to walk out into the main part of the store to show me. So I stepped into the dressing room and she shut the door behind us. I thought she would ask me to turn around, but she didn't! She just started undressing right in front of me! I was getting so horny. I stared at her dumbfounded as she slipped off her blouse, skirt, then her bra and panties. She asked me if I liked her body and I think I managed to mutter yes. She bent over to pick up the swimsuit and I had a perfect view of her soft pussy mound. I noticed that it was glistening a bit with drops of fluid. I wondered if she was horny for me. I brushed my hand against her ass as she was standing up and she turned and smiled at me. Then I knew it was my opportunity. I grabbed her arm gently and turned her around and pulled her body towards me. We started kissing passionately and I touched every part of her naked body I could reach. She slipped my shirt off over my head and I felt her wonderful breasts press against my chest. I turned her around so that I could massage her breasts and finger her pussy while I kissed her neck from behind. She seemed to really enjoy that. Before long my pants were off and I let my hard cock slide between her butt cheeks. She bent over slightly and directed my cock towards the wet mound between her legs. I felt the head of my dick penetrate about an inch into her and I almost came right away. But I held back and slowly thrusted until my whole cock was buried in her damn tight pussy.
She kept saying, "Yes...mas...yes...mas!" And I knew I was about to climax. So I reached around and grabbed the front of her thighs and humped her as hard as I could. I nearly lifted her off the ground as I thrusted into her. The feeling of her ass ramming against my inner thighs was the best! And, I came deep into her pussy.
We kissed a lot more and finally cleaned up to leave the dressing room. I found out that she was a virgin too before that day. But, she had fucked herself with cucumbers back in Spain so she would experience no pain on her first time. That summer turned out to be the best summer ever. We taught each other everything about oral sex, anal sex, toys, and mutual masturbation. WOW!