“Um, sure,” said Larry hurriedly. He glanced at his watch – it was just past five o’clock. “Let me just save my stuff.”
Yvonne hovered while he closed his applications. She was in her late thirties, attractive in a rather severe sort of way, and always elegantly dressed in trouser suits and pastel-coloured blouses. Her jackets, usually black, were tailored to de-emphasize as much as possible her least favourite attributes: her D-cup breasts. Her blonde hair was cut short, and her pale blue eyes were set in somewhat angular facial features.
Larry was five years Yvonne’s junior, though he had been at the company rather longer than she. When she had first joined, three years earlier, he had been tasked with showing her the ropes, a task he greatly enjoyed since it afforded him plenty of opportunities to look down inside her blouse. Once he fancied he had even caught a glimpse of her nipple, when a fortuitous movement on her part caused her left bra cup to gape slightly at the front. Rather ordinary-looking, Larry had not been in a relationship in a while – his last girlfriend had walked out four months ago after a two year relationship, just because he had asked her tentatively if she would mind pooping in her panties for him. He now bitterly regretted asking that stupid question, of course, but he really had thought she would take it a little better.
“Ready!” he said, as he shut down the computer. He got up and walked with Yvonne out of the office and into the car park, where he climbed into the passenger seat of her car. “I really appreciate this,” he said. “The bus ride is such a pain.”
“Oh hush, don’t mention it,” said Yvonne. “Um, sorry about the smell…”
Larry had already noticed. It smelled rather like…
“My daughter had an accident,” said Yvonne with a grimace. “One of many, I’m afraid. It’s been four days, and the smell still hasn’t completely gone.”
“How old is she?” asked Larry curiously.
“Sixteen,” said Yvonne. She started the car, and pulled out of the car park. “You’d think she’d have got over such things by now! Anyway, after a minute or two you won’t even notice it. I’m really sorry though – I should have thought about this before offering you a lift.”
“It’s okay,” said Larry with a shrug. “It’s not that bad. So … Joan has a lot of accidents?”
“Yes,” said Yvonne with a sigh. “It started when she was twelve – we noticed … oh, but you don’t want to hear the messy details.”
“I don’t mind,” said Larry. “I’m not squeamish. And I’ve met Joan a couple of times – she seemed like a very normal, pleasant, intelligent girl…”
“That’s just it!” said Yvonne. “She’s top of her class, or nearly, and she’s a genius with the piano – I’m taking her to her grade eight exam this evening, by the way – so it just baffles me why, when she’s so grown up in every other way, she continues to have these accidents…”
“Maybe,” said Larry cautiously, “they aren’t accidents…?”
“Right!” said Yvonne. “I’ve suspected that for a while. Our doctor says she’s just anal retentive, but even he says it’s not normal for her to still be having accidents at her age. Personally I think she enjoys the feeling of desperation, and holds on long past the point at which her body is telling her to go to the toilet.” A muffled ring-tone came from her purse. “Oh, just a moment.” She fished out her mobile phone and put it to her ear. “Hello?”
From the ensuing one-sided conversation, Larry gathered that all was not well in the Coleman household.
“You’re kidding!” exclaimed Yvonne. “Well did you call your father?” “He’s what?” “Well can’t he put them off?” “Damn it! Well I’ll just have to stay home and take care of it, I suppose. See if Linda will take you to your exam. I hate to miss it, but…” “What? Oh no! This gets worse and worse!” “You’re breaking up, darling. I said you’re breaking up!” “Hello? Hello?” She cursed and hung up.
“Something wrong?” asked Larry mildly.
Yvonne drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “You could say that!” she said. “Apparently the washing machine sprang a leak, or something, and the whole kitchen’s flooded. We have parquet flooring – there’s no way I can go off out for a couple of hours this evening while soapy water is ruining the floor. And my husband is apparently meeting with important clients this evening.” She sighed. “I … I don’t suppose you could…”
“You want me to take Joan to her exam?” asked Larry. “Sure – I’d be glad to.”
“Oh thank you!” said Yvonne. She sighed with relief. “You can take her in this car. Oh I’ll really owe you one!”
Larry shrugged. “You’ve been kind enough to give me a lift – it’s the least I can do.”
“Yes but if you’d caught the bus you’d at least have an evening at home!” said Yvonne. “This place is forty-five minutes away … are you sure you don’t mind?”
“It’ll be a pleasure,” said Larry.
“I’ll feed you some dinner when you get back,” said Yvonne. “It’ll be a bit of a late meal, but…”
“That sounds great,” said Larry. “Thank you.”
Yvonne stared at the traffic lights ahead. “I do hope she’s been to the loo recently,” she said with a frown. “I sincerely and humbly apologise in advance if she … you know.”
“Um, what should I do if she does … you know?” asked Larry.
“She’d better not!” said Yvonne firmly. “But if by any chance she does, don’t let her make a mess of the seat. Last time she did it, I made her take off her skirt and spread it out beneath her. You may want to do the same.”
“Um, okay,” said Larry. “But, um, wouldn’t a towel or something be better…?”
“I’m not going to put a towel in the car especially for Joan’s accidents!” said Yvonne. “If I do, I’ll be sending Joan the message that it’s okay to have an accident in the car. Nope, the skirt will do just fine.”
“What if she doesn’t want to take off her skirt in front of a strange man?” asked Larry. “Won’t she be too embarrassed about me seeing her underwear?”
Yvonne snorted. “Unlikely,” she said. “She has a bad habit of flashing her panties at strange men. Not that you’re strange,” she added hastily. “But the number of times I’ve caught her bending over while wearing those tiny miniskirts of hers… It’s possible she doesn’t mean to do it – she seems genuinely embarrassed when I tell her off for it – but you’d think she’d learn to crouch rather than bend over with straight legs!”
“Does she have a boyfriend?” asked Larry.
Yvonne turned to look at him. “Why do you ask?” she inquired suspiciously.
“I just wondered if maybe someone was putting her up to it.”
“Oh. Well she doesn’t have a boyfriend at the moment,” said Yvonne. “She’s very sensibly not interested in the boys at her school – says they’re too immature. Unfortunately she’s rather more interested in older men – men in their twenties and thirties. It may be just my imagination, but it seems to me that whenever she bends over and flashes her panties, it’s always in front of an older man. Oh, and you know what else?”
“What?” asked Larry.
“On one occasion, when she straightened up again, I noticed that her skirt was barely covering her buttocks – even when she was standing straight! I pulled her to one side and had a closer look … and you’ll never guess what she’d done. She’d actually turned over the waistband of her skirt – twice – to make it shorter! No wonder half her bottom was showing when she bent over.”
“Wow,” said Larry, not sure what else to say. “She sounds quite, um … outgoing…”
“Is that your way of saying she sounds like a slut?” asked Yvonne.
“No!” said Larry hastily.
“Well I don’t think you’d be far wrong, to tell you the truth,” admitted Yvonne. “I know she’s not a virgin, and I suspect she’s had sex quite a lot … and with a lot of different boys and men. I discovered her pills two months ago, and her panties very often appear in the laundry basket with semen stains in the crotch. I’ve had ‘the talk’ with her, of course – and I’ve challenged her about her underwear – but my words seem to fall on deaf ears.”
“Gosh,” said Larry. “You must be pretty worried about her.”
“I am,” said Yvonne. “Well, kind of. Her school work doesn’t seem to be suffering, though. My biggest concern is that she doesn’t seem to be using proper … protection. I know she’s intelligent enough to know that the pill won’t protect her from STDs…” She sighed. “Maybe she’s being more selective than I’m giving her credit for. Maybe she really does have a steady boyfriend, though if she does, I wish I knew why she’s hiding him from me.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t approve of him,” said Larry. “Maybe he’s much older.”
“It’s possible,” said Yvonne. “In a way I suppose I’m to blame … or my genes are. Ever since Joan developed those big boobs of hers, she’s been a magnet for male attention. And she loves it, of course. She’s always wearing blouses that are too tight for her, and then leaving all the upper buttons undone. I often tell her off, and do up a couple of the buttons, but then I turn around and, next thing I know, she’s unbuttoned almost all the way down to her navel. I know she does the same in her classes, too, because some of her teachers have made comments to that effect. Still, they tend to stop short of complaining – probably because she excels in those classes.”
“Perhaps the other pupils are so distracted that they fall behind her,” suggested Larry with a smile.
Yvonne laughed. “Well that would certainly be an unusual strategy for getting to the top of the class,” she said. “But I think she just enjoys being looked at, and she’s good enough at multi-tasking that she can still absorb everything she’s taught.” She shrugged. “Anyway, enough about my problem child. Tell me something about yourself that I don’t know.”
Larry thought for a moment. “I was Bournemouth Salsa champion three years running,” he said. “Along with my partner Angie.”
Yvonne’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t even know you could dance!” she said.
Larry nodded. “I used to teach evening classes, but it became too much of a hassle and I gave it up, oh, four years ago I think it was.”
Yvonne grew thoughtful. “Funnily enough,” she said, “and I’m sorry to bring up Joan again, but she did ask a while back if I would pay for her to have Salsa lessons.”
“Oh yes?” said Larry. “And you refused?”
“Yes,” admitted Yvonne. “I told her I didn’t want her learning all that dirty dancing. Actually I just wasn’t keen on forking out for the lessons. And she was fourteen at the time, which I thought was a little young.”
“Well I’d be happy to teach her – and you, if you want – for free,” said Larry. “It’s been a while and I kind of miss it – it would be fun for me, too.”
“Really?” said Yvonne. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“I’d like to,” said Larry.
“Splendid!” said Yvonne, pleased. “I’m sure Joan will be thrilled. Where would you want to do it?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” said Larry. “How large is your living room?”
“Not very,” said Yvonne. “I’m not sure we have a suitable room at our house.”
“I suppose my apartment would do in a pinch,” said Larry. “The living room’s a good size. I’d have to move some of the furniture out, but I think it would work. How often would you want her to take lessons? Once a week? Twice a week? And what days would be best?”
“If you’re willing to give her lessons twice a week, then be my guest,” said Yvonne. “She likes to go out with her friends on Friday and Saturday nights, but any other night should be fine.”
“Doesn’t she have homework on weeknights?” asked Larry.
“Yes, but she normally has it done by supper time,” said Yvonne. “Very bright girl, you know.”
“All right,” said Larry. “Well, I get my car back tomorrow, so what about tomorrow night for her first lesson?”
“Sounds good! You can sound her out about it while you’re driving her to her exam,” said Yvonne. “Oh – I suppose I should get her some kind of outfit…?”
“That would be good,” agreed Larry.
“I have no idea what to get her though,” said Yvonne. “I don’t suppose … would you be willing to take her shopping on Saturday? I trust your judgment more than mine … or hers!”
Larry shifted position in his seat. “Sure – I can do that,” he said. “Will she have a credit card, or should I pay for it…?”
“She has her own card,” said Yvonne. “She can pay for it herself, and then I’ll reimburse her. Oh, and please could you make sure she buys some new panties – she hardly has any decent ones left, thanks to her accidents.”
“Sure,” said Larry.
“Well, here we are,” said Yvonne, as she pulled into her driveway and parked. “I’ll go and get Joan.”
She got out of the car and went inside, while Larry climbed across into the driving seat. A minute later, he pressed the button to lower the window as Yvonne returned.
“Joan’ll just be a couple of minutes,” she said. “When I told her you’d be taking her, she said she wanted to change out of her school uniform.” She rolled her eyes. “Wants to seem more grown-up, probably. Anyway, I’m off to clean up the mess in the kitchen. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay,” said Larry.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as Yvonne returned to the house. Five minutes later, the front door opened and Joan emerged, glancing furtively behind her as she stepped outside and closed the door behind her. Larry’s eyes widened as he took in the buxom young girl’s dark blue button-up minidress. The bottommost button was undone, and as Joan walked, her left leg showed through the gap almost all the way up to her panties, which just barely managed to stay covered. At the top, enough buttons were undone to reveal a large expanse of cleavage, and a hint of bra.
“Hi Larry,” she said as she got into the car.
“Hi Joan,” Larry replied. He started the car and they set off. “Your mother said you wanted to learn Salsa dancing. It just so happens that I used to teach Salsa – would you be interested in some free lessons?”
“Sure!” said Joan.
Larry glanced down at Joan’s legs. Her dress, parted in the middle below the lowest button still fastened, was revealing practically all of her inner thighs. He could also see plenty of her bra. Her breasts were truly a sight to behold – larger than her mother’s, even. “Which nights do you prefer? Your mother thought maybe two nights a week…?”
“Tuesday and Thursday, then,” said Joan. “What should I wear?”
“Well your mother wants me to take you shopping on Saturday for a Salsa dress,” said Larry.
“Oh! Okay,” said Joan.
They continued in silence for a while. Then Joan said, “Damn, I really need to go to the bathroom.”
“Can you hold on until we get to the music hall?” asked Larry.
“Yes I think so,” said Joan.
Over the next few minutes, she rubbed absent-mindedly at her abdomen, causing her dress to ride up just enough to reveal a tiny part of her white panties. For the rest of the journey, those panties never fully disappeared from view, and Larry began to wonder if in fact she had surreptitiously undone another button on her dress.
They arrived at the music hall with plenty of time to spare before Joan’s exam. Larry went in with her and they sat together in the waiting room with some of the other examinees. Twenty minutes later Joan’s name was called, and she got up (having fastened all of the buttons on her dress, Larry could not help noticing) and went off down the corridor. Larry listened hard, but he was not able to hear her play, so he settled down to read some magazines. When Joan emerged, some time later, she was smiling.
“I think I did pretty well,” she said. “A couple of missed notes, but nothing serious.”
“Congratulations!” said Larry. “Do you want to use the bathroom here before I take you home?”
“Sure,” said Joan, and she disappeared into the ladies’ toilets.
Once she had re-emerged, they went out into the car park, got into Yvonne’s car, and Larry drove off. He had not gone very far before he noticed that Joan had started unbuttoning her dress again – a couple of buttons at the top, so that her dress gaped and exposed her entire cleavage and a good part of her bra, and a couple of buttons at the bottom, so that her dress split apart at panty-level and revealed a pretty white triangle. Larry tried to concentrate on the road, but he could not help stealing glances at Joan’s panties every few seconds.
“Oh God,” said Joan suddenly, clutching her abdomen. “I really need to go!”
“I thought you went at the music hall?” said Larry.
“I peed,” said Joan. “But I didn’t want to do anything else there. There were other people in the toilet and I didn’t want to make a stink.”
“Oh,” said Larry. “Well, can you hold on for another half hour or so?”
“I’ll try,” said Joan.
“Okay then,” said Larry, slowing down gradually until he was doing five miles per hour less than the speed limit, instead of ten miles per hour above it. This would turn a forty-minute journey into one lasting close to an hour. “Let me know if you want me to pull over somewhere.”
After fifteen minutes of writhing and moaning in pain, however, Joan said, “It’s no good! It’s coming out!”
“Really?” said Larry.
“Really!” exclaimed Joan.
“Your mother said this might happen,” said Larry. “She said you should take off your skirt and spread it out under you.”
“Yes but I’m wearing a dress!” gasped Joan. “Oh God – I suppose I’ll just have to take it off.” She hurriedly undid the rest of her buttons, then she shrugged out of the dress and pulled it forward beneath her thighs until it was covering the entire seat. Wearing just her bra, panties and shoes, she lifted her bottom off her dress and grimaced as she strained.
“Want me to stop?” asked Larry.
“Nnnnnnhhhhh … no!” grunted Joan. “Oh God this is a big one. Just carry on … mmmmmphhhh!”
The smell reached Larry quickly, and he turned up the fan to full blast, then wound his window down halfway. This helped a lot, though in truth he was not all that bothered by the smell. He glanced down to his left in an attempt to see evidence of Joan’s accident, but it was fairly dark by now and he could not make out any details.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Not much!” gasped Joan. “Lots more to come…”
Over the next five minutes she continued to grunt and strain, and when she finally relaxed and sat back down in her seat, she seemed exhausted.
“Wow!” said Larry, impressed. “You must have done an awful lot.”
“I’m not done yet,” she muttered. “I just had to take a breather.”
After another few minutes of grunting, panting and straining, Joan collapsed back into her seat and said, “Okay – that’s all of it.”
“Feel better now?” asked Larry.
“Yes thanks,” said Joan. “But I think I made a bit of a mess. I don’t suppose I could clean up at your place, could I? Our washing machine’s broken, and I don’t fancy facing Mum all messy like this.”
“I suppose so,” said Larry. “But we’re likely to run into other people on the way in – you may not be able to prevent them realizing you’ve had an accident.”
Joan shivered. “I suppose I’d rather strangers knew it than my mum,” she said.
“Well put your dress back on, at least,” said Larry. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Oh,” said Joan. “I was hoping to use my dress to carry some of the mess that, um, ‘escaped’.”
“Can’t you fit it back into your panties?” asked Larry.
“I’ll try,” said Joan.
Twenty minutes or so later Larry pulled into the car park behind his apartment building. Joan had been fiddling around with her poo and panties for a while, but he had not been able to see exactly what she was doing.
“Can you switch the light on?” asked Joan. “I can’t see well enough.”
Larry switched it on. “Jesus!” he exclaimed.
Joan smiled up at him apologetically. The front of her panties was bulging with a large amount of poo that she had apparently stuffed in there. There was, however, still a sizeable mound between her legs, and more poo was heaped either side of her hips and behind her bottom. She lifted her buttocks off the seat and began stuffing some of this poo into the back of her panties, which were sagging heavily under the weight of the poo that was already in there.
“There’s too much,” she observed after a minute. “Since I can’t use my dress, I’ll just have to use my bra. God knows it’s big enough.” She sat down, causing quite a lot of poo to squelch out of her panties.
“Um,” said Larry nervously, looking around the car park. But Joan was already reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra.
“Don’t look!” she said as she slipped it off her shoulders.
Larry caught a brief glimpse of her large yet shapely breasts, crowned with perfect round nipples, before he forced himself to look the other way.
“Actually I don’t care,” said Joan. “You can look if you want.” She started filling her left bra cup with poo from the pile between her legs.
Larry let his eyes wander back towards Joan. “Yes, that bra certainly is … roomy.”
Joan heaped the poo generously into her bra cup, and then patted it down until it was almost flat, and completely filling the cup. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added another large handful, and smoothed it into an evenly rounded hill. Larry watched with fascination as she did the same thing with her other bra cup, and then absent-mindedly stroked his crotch as she very carefully put the bra back on. Her nipples sank into the poo, which started to splurge out around her breasts as she re-fastened the back. None of it fell, however, and Joan turned her attention to her panties once more. Raising her bottom again, she stuffed more poo into her panties, which were now almost entirely brown.
“Can you open my door?” she asked. “I don’t want to make a mess of the handle.”
Larry got out of his side, walked around the car, and opened Joan’s door. She eased herself out carefully, and Larry took her elbow to help her upright. Looking past her, he saw that there were still a few lumps and small piles of poo on the spread-out dress. Joan turned around and started gathering them up. One by one she dropped them into the back of her panties, until the overloaded garment was sagging so much that poo was beginning to fall out of the leg-holes.
“Damn,” she said, catching a piece. “Looks like the rest will have to go in my shoes.”
She slipped off her shoes and carefully crouched so that she could pick them up. While Larry stood guard, she half-filled the left one with poo, crouched again, and slid her foot all the way in. Some of the poo splurged out, and she giggled. “Ugh, squishy!” she said. “I can feel it between my toes.” She collected the fallen poo and dropped it into her other shoe, then she stood up carefully and retrieved more poo from her dress. This time she only filled it one-third full, and when she crouched and slipped her foot back into the shoe, none of the poo escaped, although it did ooze up around her ankle.
And still there were two more smallish lumps of poo sitting on her dress. She looked at Larry hopefully. “I don’t suppose you…”
“Don’t look at me!” said Larry hastily. “I’m not carrying any of your mess.”
Joan sighed. “All right then,” she said. She picked up one of the lumps and started smearing it over her belly. By the time the lump had shrunk to nothing, the whole area between her breasts and the top of her panties was covered with a thin brown layer of poo. She went back for the last lump, and started rubbing it into the same places, so that the layer of poo became twice as thick. Eventually there was no more un-smeared poo in her hands, and so she reached back into the car and pulled out her dress. Putting it on carefully, she buttoned it up from just below her breasts to just above her panties.
“I think you may want to do up a few more buttons than that,” said Larry. “I can see the poo in your bra from here, not to mention your bulging panties.”
Joan sighed and nodded, and fastened three more buttons. “Better?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Larry, “although your chest looks … huge!”
“Well, there is an awful lot of poo in my bra, you know…”
“I know,” said Larry. “All right then, come on – let’s hope we don’t meet anyone.”
Joan wiped her hands mostly clean on the outside of her dress, and followed Larry as he headed for the front door of the building. By good fortune, they did not in fact meet anyone, and two minutes later, with a sense of great relief, Larry closed his apartment door behind them both.
“All right!” he said. “Now why don’t you go and shower, and I’ll stick your clothes in the washing machine. Not much I can do about your shoes, though…”
“I’ll wash them out under the shower,” said Joan. “They’ll be all right. Let me go and empty out my panties and bra, and clean them off a bit, and then I’ll put them in your washing machine myself – no sense you getting messy too.”
“My thoughts exactly,” agreed Larry fervently.
“Do you have a poly bag I could put the poo in?” asked Joan. “I’d rather dump it into a bin outside than block up your loo.”
“Sure,” said Larry, and he fetched her a Tesco’s bag.
Joan smiled as she took it, then she disappeared into the bathroom, and Larry settled down to watch some television. Ten minutes later, Joan emerged, naked except for her shoes, holding a small pile of damp clothing in front of her pussy. She made no attempt to cover her poo-caked breasts. “And your washing machine is…?” she said.
Larry jumped to his feet. “Kitchen,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
He held the door of the washing machine open while Joan tossed her clothes in, then he added detergent and fabric softener, and closed the door. Having turned the dial and pulled out the knob to start the cycle, he glanced back at Joan’s naked bottom as she walked back to the bathroom in only her shoes. Then his eyes nearly popped out of his head as she turned around.
“Would you call my mum, please?” she said, clasping her hands over her pussy – but not quickly enough. “She’ll be wondering where we are. Tell her we stopped at Pizza Hut for a celebratory meal.”
“Uh, well I think she was planning to cook,” said Larry. “That might upset her.”
“If you can think of a better excuse,” said Joan, “by all means use it.” She turned around and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. A moment later, Larry heard the shower start.
He called Yvonne. “Hi!” he said. “Um, I hope you don’t mind, but Joan suggested we stop for a celebratory meal at Pizza Hut. It seems she did quite well… Oh you haven’t? Oh good – I was worried… Okay then, we’ll see you a bit later.”
He hung up, then chuckled as an idea struck him. “What kind of pizza do you like?” he called through the bathroom door.
“Pepperoni,” was Joan’s reply. “With mushrooms and sweetcorn if possible. Thin crust.”
“Okay,” said Larry. He called Pizza Express, but the number was busy. He sat down on the sofa and switched on the television. After channel-hopping for a minute, he found a documentary about sharks, which was almost (but not quite) interesting enough to make him forget for a moment that there was a naked teenaged girl in his bathroom. Twenty minutes later, as the program was finishing, he suddenly realised he could no longer hear the shower running. He hit redial on his phone, and this time a woman at Pizza Express answered. He placed his order, hung up, and pocketed his phone.
The bathroom door opened, and out came Joan in a towel, tied around her chest, that just barely covered her pussy – all of Larry’s towels were on the small side. “I didn’t wash my hair,” she said, “because it wasn’t messy and I didn’t want to turn up at home with damp hair – Mum would only ask awkward questions.”
Larry nodded. “Well, your clothes will be a while yet, and so will the pizza – want to watch some TV?”
“Sure,” she said, and she came to sit on the sofa next to him.
Larry had been channel-hopping, but he offered Joan the remote. “Here – watch whatever you want.”
She switched to MTV and a rather raunchy video, to which she started to gyrate in her seat. “Do you like Sean Paul?” she asked.
“Who?” asked Larry politely.
“This guy,” she said, pointing at the screen. “I like to dance to his stuff.”
With that she got up and started dancing, which took Larry’s mind off the television entirely. Mesmerised, he watched the hem of her towel-dress, which offered glimpses of Joan’s pussy whenever she faced him, and revealed a lot of her buttocks whenever she turned away. “Who do you like then?” she asked.
“Huh?” said Larry. “Oh – well, I’m not really into pop music, but I quite like Shakira.”
“So do I,” said Joan. “I can even do her shimmy-thing.” She demonstrated, and promptly lost her towel.
“Oops!” she said, blushing as she stooped to pick it up. “Sorry.”
“Don’t mention it!” Larry gasped.
Joan giggled and wrapped the towel around herself again. She did not tuck it in very tightly, however, and after dancing for another half-minute, she had to grab it again as it slipped off her breasts. As she re-tucked it, it gaped widely at the front, giving Larry his longest look yet at her pussy.
Another song started, and Joan continued to dance, and Larry continued to watch with an appreciative smile. Then the towel came untucked again, but this time Joan only laughed and let it fall to the floor. Naked, she danced and gyrated, sometimes sensuously rubbing her breasts, sometimes bending over and wiggling her bottom at Larry. After a while, she giggled again and came over to sit next to Larry. Taking the remote, she pulled up the channel guide. “I’m not so keen on this song,” she said.
“You have a gorgeous body,” said Larry.
“Thanks,” she said with a grin. “Men do seem to like it.” She lay back against the arm rest and spread her legs. “So, Mr Murphy. Have you any ideas about how a man like you might occupy himself for half an hour with a naked sixteen-year-old girl?”
“I haven’t got any condoms,” said Larry.
“I don’t care,” said Joan. “I’m on the pill.”
Larry smiled. “You’re a bad girl,” he said. “And I like that. But I’m not going to have sex with you, I’m afraid.”
Joan frowned and closed her legs. “Why not?” she asked.
“I’m just not that easy,” he replied. “Sure, you’re beautiful and sexy and naked, and I love that you poop your panties, and I’m really looking forward to teaching you Salsa … but with sex come major complications, and I don’t want those kinds of hassles.”
“Jeez,” said Joan, folding her arms across her chest. “I just wanted sex, I wasn’t offering to be your girlfriend.” Then she raised an eyebrow. “You liked me doing a poo in my panties?”
“Gosh yes!” said Larry. “It was … it was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen! All that poo – just amazing. I think it’s so cool that you do that.”
Joan chuckled, then frowned. “So why don’t you want me?” she pouted.
“I do!” said Larry. “Well – kind of. Sex would be nice, but I dread to think what would happen if your parents found out. I have to work with your mother, remember. And to be honest, I’d much rather watch you poop your panties than have sex with you. So, already, this evening has been just brilliant for me, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Joan snorted. “You’re weird,” she said. Then she giggled. “Then again, I’m the one who likes to poo in my panties.” She sighed. “But Larry, I’m horny! Help me out here!”
Larry shook his head. “I suggest you masturbate,” he said. “Believe me, as soon as I’ve dropped you off and come back here, that’s what I’m going to be doing.”
Joan giggled again. “All right. You can watch if you like.” She parted her legs, put her hand to her pussy, and started to stroke her clitoris.
“I probably shouldn’t,” said Larry. “Excuse me a moment – I believe I shall go to the bathroom.”
With the bathroom door locked behind him, he took out his erection and thrashed it for all he was worth. As he neared orgasm, however, he forced himself to stop. There were pretty sights to come, he was certain, and he wanted to enjoy them fully. He turned, and noticed the plastic bag, bulging with Joan’s poo, sitting next to the bathtub. Walking past it to the door, he listened until the sounds of Joan’s orgasmic moans had subsided. He flushed the toilet, ran the taps in the basin for a moment, and left the bathroom.
Joan was lying on the sofa with her legs akimbo. She closed them and sat up as Larry came over. “Did you come?” she inquired impishly.
“No,” he said. “I’ll take care of that later. Oh – I think the washing machine’s stopped – I’ll just get your clothes in the dryer.”
He went through to the kitchen, transferred Joan’s clothes, and started the dryer. “They’ll be half an hour or so.” The doorbell rang. “Ah! That will be the pizza.”
Fortunately the sofa could not be seen from the door, but Larry nevertheless kept the door half-closed while he took the pizza and paid the delivery man. Then, having fetched drinks for himself and Joan, he sat down next to her and picked up the remote.
Joan stayed naked while they ate their pizzas in front of a sitcom, and then Larry checked the dryer to see if her clothes were dry. They were still a little damp, so he gave them another five minutes, and then took them out. As Joan put them on, he watched with a twinge of regret – he had greatly enjoyed her unabashed nudity. He was glad, however, that she left most of the buttons of her dress undone.
“I guess that’s it,” he said with a sigh. “We should get you home.”
Joan nodded. “I’ll go and fetch the poo,” she said.
They took the lift down to the ground floor and left the building, whereupon Joan stopped. “You know,” she said, “Mum was expecting me to have an accident tonight … it would be a shame to disappoint her.”
“What do you mean?” asked Larry.
Joan grinned. “I was just thinking it might be kind of cool to go home with poo in my panties.”
“You … want to put the poo back in your panties?” asked Larry in surprise.
Joan nodded. “Yeah – sounds like fun!”
“But won’t you get into trouble?”
“Yes, a bit,” said Joan. “But I’ll live. It’ll be worth it. So what do you think – should I do it?”
Larry smiled. “Well, I’m hardly likely to object, now am I?”
“Will you help me?” she asked.
Larry thought about this, then shrugged. “Sure,” he said.
They returned to the car, where Joan took off her dress and spread it out on the passenger seat. Larry poked a hole in the plastic bag, and then he turned the bag upside down and squeezed it so that a long sausage of poo extruded from the hole. Joan held open the back of her panties, and the sausage began coiling up just behind her buttocks. As more and more poo built up into a pile, the squishy mass began to ooze downwards, making Joan giggle.
After a while, she said, “Okay stop. Any more and it’ll start coming out past my legs. Fill the front now.”
Larry reversed the bag, and a final chunk of poo broke off and dropped into the back of Joan’s panties. She let go of the waistband, which snapped back, but not quite against her skin – there was too much poo inside to allow it to close properly. Joan turned around and opened up the front of her panties, and Larry squeezed out another long sausage, while Joan stared in fascination as it heaped up in front of her pussy. “Okay, wait,” she said.
Larry stopped squeezing, and Joan closed up the front of her panties. Then she started massaging the bulges, both at the front and at the back, working the poo along her gusset. Larry bent down to watch the material between her legs bulging downward as it became filled with poo, the lumps in the back and front of her panties coming together to meet in the middle.
“Okay,” said Joan, “there’s a little more room in the front now I think.” She held open the front again and Larry squeezed a medium-length sausage into the space.
“Okay, that’s it,” said Joan. “Any more and my panties won’t stay up.”
“There’s still some in the bag,” said Larry.
Joan unclasped her bra and took it off. “Put the rest in here,” she said.
Larry, hardly able to take his eyes off Joan’s beautiful breasts, squeezed until Joan told him to stop. Then he squeezed again as she put the other cup beneath the bag. He quickly ran out of poo, however, and he spread out the bag to see if he had missed any. There were a few lumps here and there, so he massaged them all into one place, and then worked the resulting lump towards the hole. It squeezed through and dropped into Joan’s bra cup.
“That’s it,” said Larry. “No more poo.”
There was not nearly as much poo in Joan’s bra as there had been earlier – after Joan had evened them up, the cups were perhaps half-full. She cheerfully put her bra back on, and giggled as she pressed her hands against the outside of the cups, causing the mess inside to ooze outwards, surrounding her breasts with a thick layer of poo.
Larry dumped the empty bag into a nearby litter bin, and then he got into the car. Joan climbed in carefully, and as she settled down in her seat, the poo in her panties squished and oozed out of her waistband and leg-bands.
After a short drive to Joan’s house, Larry parked in the drive and then helped Joan out of her seat. She rescued the poo that had spilled out on to her dress, and stuffed it back into her panties. Then she picked up her dress and put it on, this time fastening all the buttons.
Joan’s father, Graham, met them at the door. “Good grief!” he said, holding his nose. “Don’t tell me you had another accident, Joan?”
“Sorry Dad!” said Joan, hanging her head in shame. “I just couldn’t hold it.”
“I’m most dreadfully sorry,” said Graham to Larry. “Whatever must you think of us?”
“It’s fine,” Larry assured him. “Accidents happen – it’s no big deal.”
“Good of you to say so,” said Graham. “Yvonne! Larry and Joan are back.”
Yvonne emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “Thank you so much, Larry – I’ll take you home right away … unless you’d like to stay for coffee?”
“I’d be glad to, if it’s not too much trouble,” said Larry.
“No trouble at all,” said Yvonne. Then she sniffed the air. “Joan!”
“Sorry Mum!” Joan apologised. “I couldn’t hold it…”
“I knew this would happen,” sighed Yvonne. “I’m terribly sorry, Larry. Well for heaven’s sake, Joan, don’t just stand there – go and clean up!”
Joan nodded, and climbed the stairs carefully. When Larry glanced upwards, he saw Joan’s massively bulging panties sagging below her hemline.
Yvonne frowned. “Did she make a mess of the car?”
“No,” said Larry. “She took off her dress and spread it out underneath her before … you know.”
“She took off her dress?” asked Graham. “In front of you?”
“Yes,” said Larry. “It smells pretty bad in the car, but I don’t think there’s any mess on the seat.”
“Well thank heavens for small mercies,” said Yvonne. “Go on through to the living room, Larry, and I’ll go and make the coffee.”
“So,” said Graham, as he followed Larry into the living room. “Yvonne tells me you’re going to be teaching Joan the Salsa?”
“Yes,” replied Larry. “Tuesdays and Thursdays, at Joan’s request. And on Saturday I’ll be taking her to shop for a dress.”
“And you’re happy to teach her for free?” inquired Graham.
“Sure,” said Larry. “I haven’t danced for a long while and I miss it – it will be fun for me, too.”
Graham nodded. “And you’ll be teaching her at your place?”
“Yes,” said Larry. “If that’s all right…?”
“Well there isn’t much space here,” said Graham, gesturing around the cramped living room. “And will you be partnering with her in competitions…?”
“If she gets good enough, I don’t see why not,” said Larry.
“Splendid!” said Graham. “I shall look forward to seeing the two of you in action.”
“I’d be happy to teach you and your wife, too, if you’d like,” offered Larry.
Graham shuddered. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m not fond of dancing. Yvonne might enjoy taking lessons, though.”
When Yvonne arrived with the coffee, Larry said, “So Yvonne, would you be interested in lessons for yourself?”
“Perhaps,” said Yvonne with a smile. “In fact, why not? I’ll pay for my own lessons, though.”
“I wouldn’t hear of it,” said Larry. “I’d be happy to teach you for free.”
“That’s very generous of you,” said Yvonne. “Thank you. Monday evenings are good for me.”
“Oh, but Joan’s getting lessons on Tuesdays and Thursdays,” said Graham. “One of you will have to switch…”
“That’s okay,” said Larry. “I’d prefer to do it one-on-one. So Yvonne, would you like me to pick out a dress for you on Saturday too?”
“That would be great!” said Yvonne. “Um, but I’m busy on Saturday…”
“I could bring it round on Sunday,” said Larry, “and let you try it on. If it doesn’t fit, I can take it back.”
“Sounds good!” said Yvonne. “Hang on – I’ll write down my measurements for you.”
“Some of those Salsa dresses are kind of skimpy, I imagine,” mused Graham.
Yvonne laughed. “You’ll have to excuse my husband, Larry – he has a bit of a one-track mind.”
Larry smiled. “Well yes – they can get quite skimpy.”
“Good,” said Graham, pleased. “I can’t wait to see you in it, darling.”
Yvonne swatted his arm playfully.
“Um, with the skimpier dresses,” said Larry, “it’s advisable to wear matching panties. Should I pick some up as well...?”
“Let’s see if the dresses fit first,” replied Yvonne. “Silly to buy matching panties and then have to return the dress.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to learn too, Graham?” asked Larry. “If Yvonne gets good enough to be in a competition, wouldn’t you want to partner with her?”
Yvonne laughed. “I doubt that will happen!” she said. “But if it does, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Larry finished his coffee. “I’m ready to go when you are, Yvonne.”
Yvonne downed the rest of hers. “Okay – let’s go.”
They went out to the car. As Yvonne got in, she coughed and waved a hand in front of her nose. “Bit smelly!” she said. She inspected the passenger seat. “Looks okay.” Once Larry had got in, she drove off.
Back at Larry’s apartment building, he got out of the car. “Well, good night,” he said.
“Will you be wearing green tomorrow?” asked Yvonne.
“I’m sorry?” said Larry.
“You know – St. Patrick’s Day,” said Yvonne.
“Oh,” said Larry. “Well, I do have a green shirt – perhaps I’ll wear that one tomorrow.”
“They do say the Irish have a lot of good luck,” said Yvonne. “I dare say you’re wondering what happened to it, what with your car breaking down yesterday, and your passenger messing her panties and stinking up the car this evening.”
Larry chuckled. “Yes, I’m feeling pretty unlucky today, all right.”
“Good night then!” said Yvonne.
“Night,” said Larry.
As Yvonne drove away, Larry headed for the front door of his building, humming a little tune to himself.
THE END
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