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Thursday, March 24, 2011

True Story - Desperate to Poop on the Bus

Posted by Sarah on March 08, 1999 at 13:06
Here's the true story I promised to post earlier, about how I was desperate to poop at a friend's flat and then on the bus.
About six months ago my boyfriend Steve was away on a business course overnight one Friday and a friend of mine, Miranda, a single girl who lives in a studio flat, had invited me to call in for a drink in the evening. I'd originally intended to go home and change out of my office clothes - navy-blue two-piece suit, white blouse, black tights and smart shoes - before going to Miranda's, but as it turned out I had to go there straight from a meeting at a client's office. What's more, for the last hour or so of the meeting I'd been needing to poop quite badly. Although I wasn't quite desperate at that stage, I was definitely uncomfortable and longed to be able to go to the toilet. But there were other male colleagues of mine there with me as well as the client and his colleagues, and I didn't want to show weakness in front of them by having to ask for the Ladies before leaving the office.
The result was that when I got to Miranda's I needed a poop really badly, and all the way there in the taxi I'd been thinking longingly of going straight to her loo. As I got out of the taxi and paid the driver I was conscious of the increasingly urgent pressure inside my bottom and so I hurried up to the front door, ready to greet her and then say quickly, 'Oh, excuse me, I really must go to your loo first.'
But I didn't get the chance. Miranda ushered me into her studio flat and I was immediately confronted by some other friends of hers, two female and three male, all in their late 20s or early 30s. The problem that faced me was this. Miranda's flat consisted of a single large room with a small upstairs gallery at the end with her bed in it. The kitchen and bathroom opened off the main room, and I knew from past visits there that you could hear everything when someone was in the bathroom. I didn't mind this in front of Miranda, who's an old friend from schooldays, but there was no way I was going to go in there for a noisy, audible poop in the hearing of people whom I scarcely knew!
As a result, I sat down in front of the others feeling very uneasy. My bottom was very, very full, and its contents were pressing urgently to get out. But I had no choice but to accept Miranda's drinks and nibbles, and sit there chatting to the others and trying to appear relaxed and unconcerned while trying to ignore my plight. For a time it seemed to ease off a bit. My bottom was still uncomfortably full, but it wasn't pressing to get out. But then the pressure started again, and I started having mild intermittent stomach cramps. I kept hoping Miranda's friends were going to leave, so I could use the toilet. But they showed every sign of being there for the evening, and after about an hour I knew I had to get out of there and get to a bathroom as quickly as possible, otherwise I wouldn't be able to hold it in much longer.
So I made an excuse to Miranda about having to get back because I was expecting some 'phone calls, and standing there as nonchalantly as I could while squeezing my bum-cheeks together I called a taxi. No luck. An hour's wait. I couldn't possibly hang on that long. I had to go and get a bus in the neighbouring street, or hail a passing taxi if I saw one.
I left Miranda's and started walking uncomfortably down the street to the bus stop, feeling that at any moment the poop was going to force itself out. No taxis in sight. I got to the bus stop and stood there shifting my weight from one foot to another uneasily. Anyone standing behind me would have seen my bottom clenched tightly under my skirt and jiggling from side to side, but no-one was.
At last the bus came, and as it neared the stop I had my worst stomach cramp yet - so bad that my tummy and thighs went all goosefleshy and I had to squeeze my bum-cheeks frenziedly to keep it in. With difficulty I got on to the bus, bought my ticket and sat down in the nearest seat - thank heavens I didn't have to stand any longer, or I would have lost control.
It was a 20 minute bus journey, and I think those were the longest 20 minutes of my life. The stomach cramps and gooseflesh were coming on repeatedly, every minute or two. Each time they did I had to clench every muscle I possessed and grind my bottom hard into the seat while pressing my upper thighs together. I could feel my knickers clinging to me with sweat, and sweat running down the cleft of my bottom. Just opposite me sat a young lad of about 18 and his girlfriend, and after a while I think they became aware of my discomfort - the awkward way I was sitting, my squirming slightly on my bottom, and the odd 'sssss' or 'ooooooooh' I couldn't help from escaping when I had a stomach cramp. The lad started to look at me and giggle, but his girlfriend looked at him crossly and shook her head once or twice. To my horror, I on one occasion heard her murmur to him something like, 'Poor thing, she must be desperate, nearly doing it in her pants.'
(For the benefit of American readers, 'pants' in this context meant the same as 'knickers' or 'panties'.)
By the time my stop approached I couldn't keep still. I was constantly rubbing my bottom backwards and forwards against the seat, thighs pressed together, hands clenched. It must have been obvious to everyone that I was on the verge of doing the toilet in my knickers. Luckily there weren't too many passengers, but by now the lad opposite just couldn't keep his eyes off me. I don't know if he was excited or just curious, but his girlfriend again murmured something like, 'Stop looking - you wouldn't like it if it happened to you.'
My stop at last. I don't quite know how I got down the step of the bus without losing control, but I managed, and I began the 5-minute hobble to our house. I was taking rapid but tiny steps, trying to keep my thighs together, and my bottom must have been sticking out and wiggling visibly from side to side. A grown woman of 28 in a smart business suit, hobbling frantically towards her house practically doing a shit in her knickers! Twice I had to stop and almost bend over double, trying to control a stomach cramp and irresistible pressure inside my bottom. Sweat was soaking my knickers and running down the insides of my thighs. If only I hadn't been too shy to go to the Ladies at the client's office, or to Miranda's loo - I would have used either gladly now, and I wouldn't have minded, I thought, if Miranda's friends had heard everything. What if I messed my knickers in the street? What if someone saw? There weren't many passers-by, but there were at least two people, neighbours, who nodded to me in passing and said, 'Hello, Sarah.' I hoped that they hadn't noticed anything.
The doorstep. A heart-stopping fumble for keys, while I jogged up and down and squirmed around, feeling the shit push and push inside me, threatening to force its way into my knickers before I could get inside. Then at last I was safely in the house, racing to the bathroom, tearing down my skirt and knickers, and sitting on the loo just as my tortured, frantic bottom exploded. Just in time!


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