My Cousin Michelle by Paula Thomas

We grew up in the same town as my mother's sister, Aunt Caroline, and
her only daughter Michelle. Mother would visit Aunt Caroline often and
always bring me along.

Michelle and I were born only a few months apart, she being older by
just under three months. When we visited Aunt Caroline's, Michelle and
I would usually go up to her room and play with her toys.

Somewhere about the age of four we got into the "show me your's and
I'll show you mine...". One thing led to another and I ended up
wearing Michelle's pinafore and panties while she ended up wearing my
shorts and playshirt. She thought this was quite a giggle and I got a
quite unexpected thrill from it. We played for the rest of afternoon
in each other's clothes, changing back just before Mom and I went home.

After that, each time Mom and I went to visit Aunt Caroline, I would go
with Michelle up to her room, put on some of her clothes and spent the
rest of the day playing with her toys. Once we went downstairs to show
Aunt Caroline and Mom how cute we were, but Mom didn't see it that way
and made me change back into my own clothes. After that I was careful
to keep Michelle's and my game a secret from her.

Beginning nearly the first week of first grade, Michelle and I would
walk home to her house to spent the remainder of the afternoon playing.
Aunt Caroline didn't mind, as I was very well behaved. I must also
have struck her as pretty enough to be a second daughter because she
encouraged my dressing in Michelle's clothes to the extent that she set
some things aside in her spare bedroom just for me.

Mom was glad for the "free babysitting". My father and she got
divorced soon after I was born and she had to work as a waitress to
keep food on the table. Not having to worry about me was a welcome
relief.

Frequently, I would sleep over at Aunt Caroline's; going to school
directly from there. Mom had left several changes of clothes with my
aunt so that we could do this if the occasion demanded. This was a
treat that I looked forward to, however unexpected, since come bedtime
Michelle and I would dress in her pajamas and go to bed. Pajama party
time.

By the time we reached fifth grade, Michelle and I were more sisters
than cousins. I slept over at least one night a week and always on
weekends; usually going to school on Monday directly from Aunt
Caroline's house. Aunt Caroline enjoyed raising her "daughters".

I was able to let my hair grow to a sexually neutral pixie type style,
so it was possible for it to appear either feminine or masculine
depending on how I was dressed and what other flourishes were employed.
Since nobody in Aunt Caroline's neighborhood knew me outside of my
playing at her house, I easily was passed of as Michelle's cousin
Paula.

Growing into puberty, Michelle and I would pore over teenage fashion
magazines, learning how to be as pretty as possible. Naturally,
Michelle wanted to appeal to the boys our age. I wanted to be
appealing to them also but wasn't really interested in dating them.
Much confusion here. No doubt Michelle was as confused as I since the
boy she knew and loved the best was by all appearances a girl.

Beginning about age 13, we would dress up and Aunt Caroline would drive
us over to the Mall to go shopping. Michelle and I would spend hours
perfecting our make-up, trying things suggested in the latest issue of
Seventeen. We'd usually dress in the tightest and shortest skirts that
Aunt Caroline would allow. In contrast, our tops were somewhat more
conservative. At the time, our legs looked much better than our
breasts.

We would cruise the Mall, seeing and being seen. I wasn't at all
self-concious about dressing as a girl; I had been doing it most of my
life. And besides, I made a fairly pretty girl: I had no beard,
certainly, at age 13; I was tallish but slender and my hair was very
fine and pretty. My voice, though not as high as Michelle's was a soft
contralto.

Aunt Caroline gave us each a $10 allowance when she dropped us off.
The idea was for us to learn how to shop, wisely. Before we went,
Michelle and I would decide what we wanted to shop for (shoes, blouse,
skirt, etc.) and then we would spend the whole day going from shop to
shop trying things on looking for the best fit and quality that fit
within our budget. Unfortunately, Michelle and I were beginning to
develop different figures so oftentimes we would have to buy two sizes
of an item to fit us each properly.

The summer that we were fifteen, Aunt Caroline took Michelle and I to
the ocean for the entire summer. We each bought a two-piece bathing
suit. Mine had a built-up bra and a bottom with a tiny skirt.
Michelle's was somewhat more daring; tiny top/tiny bottom. She got a
lot of appreciative looks that summer.

At the beach, there was almost always a dance or something going every
night. Michelle and I would dress in light cotton dresses, sandals
with no hose and go down to the dance-hall. We'd usually stay until
about 11 pm. Michelle would end up dancing with every boy in the place
while I watched from the side. At first, a lot of boys asked me to
dance, but I didn't really know how and really wasn't interested in
dancing with boys, especially slow dancing. After a few weeks, they
stopped asking. Instead, I watched the band and dreamed that I was one
of them up on the stage.

It hadn't occurred to me during the entire summer, but when it was time
to pack up and go back home I realized that I had a major problem - tan
lines! Here I had spent the entire summer wearing a 2 piece bathing
suit which put some very pale flesh in a very embarrassing place. I
was mortified. Michelle suggested Coppertone; trip to the drugstore.
It colored the skin but was not at all natural. It was also streaky.
Sunlamp; another trip to the drugstore. Intensive sessions under the
sunlamp and keeping the shirt on for a few weeks got me to a somewhat
uniform color.

By the time we were 16, Michelle was the most popular girl in school,
Homecoming queen, the whole bit. I usually had a date for Friday
and/or Saturday, but I was not the BMOC. Occasionally, Michelle and her
date would double with me and my date.

Late in my junior year, I fell in with a ragtag rock & roll band at
school. We were decent musicians but we didn't have anything to
distinguish us from the rest of the hurly-burly. Since we were already
a mixture of sexes, styles and tastes (our keyboardist (Michelle) and
rythm-player were female, our lead-player was simply strange and the
bassist (me) and the drummer were male) I suggested we call ourselves
ANDROGENY and keep the crowd guessing as to what it was they were
looking at.

We all wore a mixture of clothing - constantly rotating amoung the
members - leotards and tights, miniskirts, jeans, leather. Since long
hair was in, we all wore at least shoulder length hair. With a little
makeup, we could go from male to female to male at will, at least on
stage. The idea was an instant hit! God, we could have been banned in
Boston. At the very least we were banned from all the $50 a night
church dances. As a consolation we were booked at $500 a night into
every dance within a 25 mile radius. Everybody wanted to SEE us and
guess what/who we were. Aunt C volunteered to be our business manager
and negotiated our gigs.

I preferred to dress feminine and in fact I really tarted it up some
nights but I also put together a really Hell's Angels looking costume
to keep the folks guessing. Michelle had some difficulty looking
androgenous, much less macho, but she and I worked on her costume
(after all I owed her) and with a little make-up and some really butch
clothes she also kept the crowd guessing.

We kept the band going for about a year, playing until Michelle and I
were ready to go to college. She planned on studying nursing and I was
going to major in computer science. I figured that computer science
was a field which offered me the maximum gender flexibility given my
intellectual capabilities.

Our freshman year we lived in the dorms. Unfortunately, separate
dorms. Occasionally, we could dress up and go out but since I couldn't
be in her dorm and she couldn't be in mine, it was really difficult.

By our sophomore year, we had located an affordable apartment that we
could share. We each had separate bedrooms plus a kitchen and a living
room. The rent was more than two dorm rooms but we had much more
privacy and less noise. Since I didn't have to worry about one of the
guys getting into my stuff, I loaded up all of my clothes from Aunt C's
and moved into the apartment full-time.

During my sophomore year, as I became better known among my classmates,
I took deliberate pains to cloud my gender. First, I was tall (now 5'
11") but slender (140 lbs). My hair was long and I was virtually
beardless but I did not tweeze my eyebrows. My clothes that I wore to
class were asexual (jeans and sweatshirt). Second, my voice, though
low for a girl was soft. Third, the style that I wore my hair had
infinite variations varying from unquestionably feminine to borderline
masculine. Finally, my personality (intellectual and emotional) could
be varied through the spectrum from male to female. Manipulation of
these traits allowed a great deal of freedom for me to explore my own
gender identity. It also made it almost impossible for me to get any
dates, be they male/female.

I attended most large lectures (ie.more than 70 students) and
especially those that Michelle was also taking, as Paula. For smaller
lectures, where the instructor was more likely to compare the face to
the roster, I attended as Paul. Even as Paul, I continued to sow as
much gender confusion as possible (might as well share the wealth).

Michelle began to take some nursing courses that required her to do
some time in the local hospital. Naturally she had to buy some
uniforms. I loved them. Always a sucker for a gal in uniform.
Seriously, I considered changing majors just to be able to wear a
nurse's outfit like Michelle's. Michelle also found a waitress's job a
few miles out of town, serving cocktails. She had to wear a very
tight-waisted outfit that was "cut down to there, and cut up to here".
Plenty of pinches, but she earned nearly $75 a night, every night she
worked. I decided that I could endure an occassional pinch for that
kind of dough, so with her introduction I applied for a job.

I didn't make anywhere near the money that Michelle did in that job
(beauty counts for something) but it did help out for spending cash.
The outfit was a problem, though. Not so much the "cut up to here,"
but the "cut down to there" was a toughie. Michelle pitched in by
visiting a second gynecologist (her gyno already had her on the pill)
and obtained a second prescription for birth control pills. After
taking them for about a month, my nipples became sore and my breasts
began to enlarge. After about six months, I had enough breast
development to fill an A-cup bra. I wasn't going to challenge Dolly
but it was going to be hard to look like a boy again. At least
topless.

The "cut down to there" problem remained, but at least it wasn't
flagrant. Going home to mother was my biggest worry. Oh well, I'd
cross that bridge later. The pinches, as I expected, were there even
if the tips weren't quite up to Michelle's. One worry that Michelle
didn't have, though, were my testicles and penis. Some drunken cowboy
getting a grip on those and the jig was up.

I devised a more advanced version of the gaf that I had worn since I
was 6. Previously, I had merely taken an elastic brief, such as a
panty girdle, pulled my penis back between my legs, stuffed my
testicles up into my abdomen, and caught the whole mess with the
girdle. Occassionally, the penis would slip to the side, but more
often it would simply creep forward, coming to rest as a lump of
unwanted flesh at the tip of my pubis bone. My new gaf improved upon
this by providing a pocket into which the penis was inserted, thus
preventing it from slipping sideways. It also allowed for the head of
the penis to be secured and pulled backwards with the gaf.

The final improvement involved finding a corset-type garment to attach
the gaf to. This was the hardest part. Corsets went out of favor many
decades ago and therefore one cannot expect Sears or Penneys to carry
them in their catalog. The Yellow Pages weren't much help either. For
the short term, I bought what was termed a "waist nipper". I sewed the
gaf to the front of the nipper and put eyelets into the back, so that I
could draw the laces, that I had sewn to the gaf, tightly towards the
rear.

Utimately, I found a manufacturer of a Victorian style corset and had
one made to my measurements. The gaf I had designed for the nipper
worked well with the corset and my worries about being "felt-up" all
but vanished. The corset provided one additional benefit. Without the
corset, my waist-line was nothing special. With the corset, I was able
to bring my waist from it's natural 28" to a corsetted 24". This alone
seemed to be worth an additional $25 a night in tips. After a few
months, I was able offer a corsetted waist of 22" and an uncorsetted
waist of 24 inchs.

My gender ambiquity was become more difficult to maintain. The
waitress job forced me to take a definite posture towards my feminine
side, most of which was difficult, if not impossible, to reverse the
next morning. Obviously I was going to have to make some difficult
decisions soon. I knew that I did not want to go through life
appearing as a man, though I felt comfortable "being" a man. I knew
mother would be hurt and probably wouldn't understand. Aunt C probably
would understand but I didn't know she could help. My professors would
have to be told since the classes at the junior and senior level were
definitely small enough for them to associate names and faces.

I asked for, and was granted, an appointment with the Head of the
Psychology Department. I felt that I needed some help making these
decisions and thought he might be in position to recommend someone
knowledgable about my problem.

On the appropriate day I was greeted by Professor Ferguson himself. He
gave me a warm handshake with his big dry paws. Directing me to the
chair upholstered in well worn leather, he took up a position behind
his desk. Leaning on his elbows over his enormous desk, he inquired
how help be of service. My hopes rose.

I told him, as briefly as could, my career at the university. I then
told him of my extracurricular life. He didn't bat a lash. I told him
that I felt I had reached a crucial decison point in my life and hoped
that he could recommend someone who could help me with these decisions.

He smiled warmly and sat back in his chair. "I totally sympathize with
your dilemma. It is believed by our profession that fully 1% of the
population suffers from some form of gender dissatisfaction. On this
campus alone, that means that there are some 300 students facing the
same questions that you face. Most will never resolve their
conflicts."

"I have studied the problem somewhat, however my schedule will not
allow me to devote as much attention to your situation as I should.
There is, however, a colleague of mine who is also knowledgable about
this problem. Let me give you her name and extension. No, better yet
let's see if she has time to come here now."

Professor Ferguson picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. He
chatted amiably for a few seconds, inquired if the callee was free for
a few minutes and then replaced the receiver. We chatted for a couple
of minutes about campus life, weather and so forth, until there was a
tap on the door and Professor Young walked into the office. I
recognized him instantly from his press clippings. He was a rising
star in the academic world for his research into the fundemental causes
of dyslexia.

Professor Ferguson briefed Professor Young about my situation,
recanting almost exactly every detail I had told him. When Professor
Ferguson was finished, Professor Young turned to me and invited to
follow him to his office.

Young's office was a good deal less opulent than Ferguson's and a good
deal messier. There were 2 foot stacks of books lining every inch of
the wall around his office. His desk was buried beneath 4 inches of
papers and books. Apparently profesors and students weren't that
different after all.

He asked me to elaborate on the briefing he received from Professor
Ferguson, which I did. When I was finished, he said "your course seems
clear, your mind seems clear, how can I help?"

When he sensed my confusion at his response, he added "Look, most
students your age are still wrestling with fetishism, how to hide
episodic crossdressing from their parents or peers, or whether they're
homosexual. You seem to have a clear idea of what you are and you have
lived enough in both genders to have a basis to form an educated
decision."

I explained to Professor Young that I anticipated some of my professors
would have difficuly accepting me as Paula in their classrooms and that
an authoritative person that they could be referred to might help. I
shared my doubts that my mother could accept my decision, but added
that I had a sympathetic aunt, my mother's sister.

He recommended that I resolve with myself what I wanted/had to be and
return to him when I had made my decision. He felt that whatever
decision I made had to be right for me and only me. When I decided
what was right, he would help to make it happen. I thanked him for his
time and went back to our apartment.

I continued in the identity that I had established for each part of my
life (school, work, Michelle) for the remainder of the semester. As
the end of the semester approached, I prepared myself to discuss my
plans with Mom.

About two weeks before the semester was to end, I called Aunt C and
prepared her for what she was to see and to ask her advice about Mom.
She suggested that she drive over to the school and see me before I
went home. I readily agreed, so we made a date for the next saturday.

Aunt C showed up at our apartment at 9 am. I answered the door and we
embraced for what seemed like minutes. She complimented me on my
appearance, which I appreciated deeply and must have let show because
she embraced me again. I told Aunt C about our past year at school and
how Michelle and I worked at the same restaurant as cocktail
waitresses. Finally I told her of my plans to live the rest of my life
as a woman and my concerns about how Mom would take it.

Aunt C then told something that I never would have believed if anyone
else had been telling it; Mom was Aunt C's brother! My Mother hadn't
divorced my father; HE had divorced my mother.

I was floored. I was caught in some sort of "Kafka world".

In a few minutes I was sufficiently recovered to ask my aunt some
questions. She and I conversed for nearly 8 hours. Michelle had
finished her classes around noon and sat with us until 3 pm, when she
had to prepare for work.

Things were coming full circle. I, a transvestite, was the child of a
transvestite. How could he (she) do this to me! Then I realized this
must have been why she allowed Aunt C to raise me, to allow me to find
my own course in life without any inadvertent influences from her.
Suddenly I felt a need to embrace my mother.

Now was not a good time. Finals were to start in less than a week.
Michelle and I were up to our elbows in studies to prepare for the
finals. I did give Mom a call and chatted with her for nearly an hour.

I called Professor Young and told him that I wanted to register for
fall classes as "Paula". I told him that I had resolved my problems
with my mother, but I expected problems with the faculty and would
appreciate any assistance he could lend. He promised that he would
take care of all registration and "faculty" problems and wished me a
good summer.

First Story (Panty Poop, long)

“Just one more shop” she said, and I tried to hide my general boredom by forcing a smile and nodding “Sure” I spoke, merely a whisper.
Not that she heard it, she was already inside the shop, and I followed her inside.
Just like the last 4 shops this was another clothing shop with the same articles, pants, sweaters, shirts and the like. I couldn’t tell them appart anymore as my memory began to blur, but this one I would never forget.
Strangely, she seemed much more certain of what to get here and instead of walking around the same row of clothes three or four times and still peeking at spots she already carefully inspected now and then. This time around she went straight for a cheap jeans and some underwear and I sighted in relief when she seemed to hurry on to the counter to pay.
Feeling the end of the endless trip was getting nearer I began to show a smile on my face as I walker with her towards the exit of the shop, but suddenly, she pauzed.
I turned around and looked at her, trying to figure out what was going on inside her mind, and then she spoke the feared words with a worried look on her face “I am not completely sure about these pants and panties”. I could tell she saw the shock on my face.
“Dont worry” she said, “I won’t be long, especially if you help me out”. She walked to the back of the shop, where the fitting rooms are. I took a peek at the clock, “20:40”, and I thought to myself that this would be over soon either way, as most of the shops would close at 21:00.
I followed her to the fitting room and waited outside while she closed the curtain and began trying on the several different items she aquired.
After a short while she whispered my name and I took a peek through the curtains, she was standing there in one of the newly bought panties with her t-shirt lifted up, her back facing towards me so I could take a good look at her panties. “How do I look in these?” she whispered. Before I was able to answer with a polite lie about how perfect they looked on her so we could be on our way, it began.
I met Petra about a week or 5 before that day, and it didn’t take more then a week before we, in a jolly mood began to reveal our sexual fantasies to eachother. I remember sleeping badly about that time since I actually revealed my true secret fantasy, the fact that women and girls that peed or pooped in their pants would excite me greatly in a sexual way. When I revealed that my hearth was racing, but she merely laughed at me and made a sarcastic remark that we should definitely try that sometime.
So there we were, seperated by a curtain of a fitting room, she bended forward slightly and with one push she began pushing out one of the biggest poops I saw in my life. I stood there hypnotized, not sure if i should panic or keep watching this mysterious encounter, I even thought I was going to wake from the dream soon enough.
But I didn’t wake up, she stood there with a ever growing bulge in the back of her pants, she didn’t do it in a sexual or sensual way, she just filled the pants as if she was using them as a toilet.
After a while she said “You have no idea how bad I had to go, I didn’t poop for three days straight”. She looked at the back of her panties and almost burst out in giggles, but she put a hand to her mouth to stop that and she just smiled wickedly at me. “That is so gross” she said, trying to control the giggles.
“Wait, there is more I think” she grinnicked and started to groan out loud. I then awoke to the moment, we were in a shop near closing time and my girlfriend Petra was in a fitting room shitting in her panties. Her groans were filling the whole shop in my head, but looking around I didn’t see anyone else react in the shop.
“What did you do, how are we going to get away with this” I whispered at the curtain, and she replied “Dont worry, I planned this ahead, ill be with you shortly.
And indeed, shortly thereafter she brushed the curtain aside and stood there in the newly bought pants. “What did you do with...?” I began to ask. She grinned at me and turned around, her jeans were showing the bulge in them. “Does it show?” she asked, and I nodded.
She grabbed the sides of the jeans with her hands and gave it a good jerk upwards, at which moment her mouth dropped open with a mix of wonder and disgust on her face. She blushed slighty “Lets get out of this place” she said and began walking to the exit. I watched her in shock as she stumbled a bit with the big mess in her pants, her legs moved in a peculiarl way as if she tried to walk as normal as possible but didn’t have the room to move her legs properly.
I quickly followed her out of the shop as she began making her way towards one of the flat iron benches in the shopping street. I moved over to her and suddenly felt very much in love with this girl when she stood there, filled pants in the middle of one of her favorite shopping streets with me. “I can’t walk with this ball of poop in my pants” she whispered to me, and before I could stop her, she sat down on the bench.
There it was again: the look of wonder and disgust on her face, followed by a naughtly look at me. “Squish” she giggled. I sat down next to her and looked around for anyone we knew, I totally loved what she did but I didn’t want her to get shamed for it.
As she began wiggling back and forth and to the sides sitting in her shit I asked her “Don’t you think we should have started this easy, like in private?”. She gave me a curious look and said “Where is the fun in that?”.
Before I could form a good reply to that, she stood up, and bend over before me with a questioning look on her face. At the back of her jeans there was a slight, but outline of a brown stain. “I don’t think that did you any good” I replied.
As she inspected her pants herself she blushed once again and said “Its so sticky now that its so flat”, and she smiled wickedly.
As she took a few steps she shook her head “Definitely not an improvement, it has spread all over my bottoms now”. She shrugged and began walking away “Lets go”.
I jumped to my feet and followed her, she tried to walk as normal as possible, I guess she didn’t mind feeling the mess against her legs anymore.
As we walked towards the place where we parked our bikes I suddenly realised with shock that we took a bike to the town center. I almost felt bad for Petra, knowing that this was going to be a all in experience right there, for her first time.
When we arrived at our bikes I could see she had a worried look in her face, her tongue sticked out halfly on one side of her beautiful smile. “Oh oh” she grinned at me.
I just nodded at her and unchained my bike fast, careful not to miss a moment.
She clumsily bend down to get the key to the lock on the bike in the lock, and for a brief flash I thought about the shitty mess in those tight strechted jeans right there, getting squished over her tender delicate cheeks.
She got up and smiled at me, and never breaking eye contact, she rose to the bike and took a seat in the saddle of the bike. There it was again; that strange mix of disgust and wonder, and this time maybe something else; did she enjoy that or was it my imagination?
“Lets go to my appartment”, she said and I followed her on my bike.
During the ride she would constantly, as if to tease me, sit down on her saddle, standing up again and sitting down again. It seemed to me that whenever she stood up, she used her cheeks to work the shitty mess inside her pants as hands would clump clay, and then she sat down in the mess again, reliving the same moment each time.
Also, from my view I could see the stains in the back of her jeans getting worse and worse every time she sat down in her poopy panties, luckily it was getting darker as we rode to her home.
When we got to her place, we quickly placed the bikes in the storage unit at the base of her flat appartment, and she raced up the stairs in front of me. I followed the brown bulging pants and now for the first time noticed the stench of her shit. We got to her appartment and she seemed to be in a hurry, I thought to get out of the mess. “Quick take of your shoes and join me over here” she yelled from the room she dissapeared in.
I entered the room and found her on the couch watching the television. “Dexter will start any minute now”, she said “I dont want to miss it!”.
I sat down next to her and watched the TV show with her, though I wasn’t really able to follow it much as my mind kept wandering to her poop filled pants, that she was sitting in.
At the first commercial break she shared a moment where we looked in eachother eyes and just smiled, it seemed to me that she did not mind at all the state she was in, and maybe even understood some of the sexual appeal.
“Hey”, she said in a playfull tone, “Can I sit on your lap?”, a wicked grin on her face.
She didn’t wait for an answer, she basicly jumped over to me and sat on me, with the pooped pants in between us. She had been sitting on the couch for a while and I suppose it stopped most of the stink from escaping, but at that moment the stench hit me like a truck and I began to realise the filth of the situation. Still, in that moment I really longed for her shitted pants on my lap and I gave her a a nice “bumpy horse ride” which she clearly enjoyed.
We then kept sitting there, watching the remaineder of the show close to eachother with a stinky, poopy mess linking us. After the show ended she turned to me and she kissed me tenderly on the mouth while keeping my hand on her butt with her hands.
“Now”, she said sternly, “You have to help me clean up, you are the sole reason for my current situation!”.
I thought about how much I hated the cleanup part of my poop experiences but I nodded to her thinking to myself how much more interesting this should be.
I followed her into the bathroom where her shower is, and I found her inspecting the mess she made one last time, feeling the back and the front of her jeans with her right hand while the other rested in her side.
She turned to me and licked her lips “One final favor for now” she giggled, holding her crotch with her right hand. I looked at her, wondering what she ment with that last comment.
I soon after saw, as liquid began dripping trough her fingers around her crotch, she was soaking her jeans with pee. “This I have been holding for a while as well” she remarked.
Again I stood hypnotized looking at her, she had removed the hand from her crotch and was slowly wetting her pants, spreading the wetness all around by moving her legs in a mysterious sexual way. I wondered if she had more experience wetting her pants since she seemed to be really calm and in control doing it, but she just stood there silently pissing her pants for a good few minutes.
After she was done pissing in her pants she adored the complete and utter mess she had made of her newly bought jeans. “Excuse me”, she said as she moved one hand into the front of her jeans and began fingering herself with gentle strokes, moaning. She finished within a couple of minutes and looked at me with a naughty smile on her face.
She grabbed a garbage sack she had obviously put in the bathroom in preparation and dumped her messy jeans and panties in it.
She turned on the water of the shower and stepped under it, “I had a lot of fun, but next time it is your turn”, she grinnicked. I moved close to her and whispered to her, not minding the water soaking the clothes I was wearing “Can I keep you?”, and she replied with just one word “Absolutely”.

An Unexpected Fantasy

This was amazingly fun to write, so look forward to more pieces like this in the future. Feedback and comments are SUPER appreciated! Let me know what you'd like to see, I'm always looking for new ideas.
*********
It was nine in the morning and cold and raining outside; the perfect morning for staying in bed. Staying in bed is even more fun, though, when you're waking up next to your hot wife. My hot wife, specifically. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over to face her. The movement woke her up, though she just buried her face in her pillow.
"Hey," I said, nudging at her with my knee, "good morning."
"Good morning," she mumbled back. Alyssa batted her pretty eyes and smiled as if she already knew what I was thinking. I couldn't help but grin and inch closer to her. "Perfect day for just sleeping in, huh?" Alyssa asked.
"Mmhmm," I agreed, resting one hand on her hip beneath the covers. She closed her eyes and settled back against the pillows again.
"Wake me up at ten," she laughed.
"Woah woah woah," I replied, pulling her closer, "come here, sleeping beauty."
"No!" she objected, burying her face in the blankets. I laughed along with her and squeezed her ass playfully. My stomach churned without warning, and I got a terrible idea.
"If you don't get out of there," I warned, "I'm going to Dutch-oven you." Alyssa laughed harder—I don't know if she was calling my bluff or what. With a grin, I sidled up as close to her as I could and pushed, forcing out a loud, muffled fart.
"Oh my god!" Alyssa cracked up, pushing the blankets away from her face. "That's awful!"
"Yeah, well, I warned you," I groped at her ass and pulled her against me, effectively grinding her against my morning wood. She bit her lip and smiled.
"You know how to be romantic," she teased. My stomach growled and I pushed again, this one equally as loud and bubbling as the first. Alyssa kissed me. I loved her sense of humor, just as she loved mine. This was common routine for us, especially for a lazy Saturday morning when neither of us had to work.
Aly slipped her hands around behind me and squeezed at my ass the same way I had done to hers. My stomach was still churning, and I mentally went over what I had eaten the day before that would cause me to have such bad gas.
"Might want to move your hand," I warned her. She smirked and moved her hand even lower.
"We'll see about that," she said. "Bet you won't do it." I shrugged and pushed out two short farts, one after the other. Aly just laughed her beautiful laugh and shook her head.
"I shouldn't have doubted you," she admitted. I nodded in agreement, but before I could say anything else, Alyssa slipped one of her legs up over mine, pulling my knee between her thighs. I raised my eyebrows as she lightly pressed her crotch against my leg. I pushed back, enjoying the way she ground against me for friction. She was wearing nothing but underwear and a t-shirt, and I could feel the warmth of her core through the thin cotton of her panties.
"You okay there?" I asked. She leaned forward and kissed me, gripping my knee tighter with her thighs. My stomach gurgled ominously as we kissed, and I was beginning to wonder if it was actually just gas. I decided to test her limit, and as she kissed me, I lifted my ass slightly and pushed hard. A loud, wet-sounding fart slipped out. To my surprise, rather than pulling away, Aly's muscles tensed against my leg and she pressed harder, desperately attempting to get more friction.
I pulled my knee back a bit and slipped my hand between her legs to tug her panties aside, intending to toy with her and finger her a bit. I stopped when my fingers brushed against her panties and found that her thighs were wet and her panties were soaked through. She saw the surprise on my face and grinned.
"What?" she asked.
"You're fucking wet, baby!" I laughed in response.
"What can I say? You know how to get a girl going." Get a girl going? I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and laugh. We'd been awake for three minutes and all I had done was fart, grab her butt, and let her grind on me.
I pulled her panties aside and rubbed my fingers against her; everything was slick and soaking wet already. Almost instinctively, I rubbed her clit with my thumb and pushed two fingers into her tight pussy. No matter how wet she got or how much we fucked, she was always the tightest of any woman I'd ever known. Aly moaned softly and closed her eyes as I slowly worked my fingers in and out of her. My cock was fully erect and practically begging to be played with, but I was content having my morning fun with Alyssa first.
I frowned slightly as my stomach growled again, feeling the pressure building. I shifted my weight; though we had been having fun before, I didn't want to ruin this moment. Without warning, Aly slid her hand down the back of my sleep pants and briefs, causing me to jump.
"Woah, woah!" I protested. She laughed and bit her lip.
"Bet you won't do it now," she challenged as a reference to earlier. I made a face at her, unsure of what to do. I continued working my fingers in her pussy, her hips subtly gyrating against my hand. Her right hand was pressed firmly against my ass, waiting to see if I'd do it or not.
"You asked for it," I taunted. I lifted my ass slightly and farted loud and hard. With a smile on her face, Aly pressed two fingers against my asshole and kissed me. I wanted to protest—I honestly did—but with the combined pleasure of her grinding against my hand and making out with me and touching me, it felt...surprisingly good.
I'd never let a woman touch me like that before and never, ever intended to, but there was something about it that just felt good in the dirtiest way imaginable. I didn't stop her. She wasn't trying to stick them in or anything, she was just rubbing my asshole with her middle and index finger in hard circles. I pumped my fingers into her harder and she had to pull away from the kiss to moan.
"Fuck, baby," she murmured as I worked her faster. Her thighs were shaking and I was wondering if she was going to come to her first orgasm so easily and so quickly. However, my stomach loudly bubbled again, causing her eyes to flutter open.
"Move your hand," I told her. Aly just smirked and stroked at my asshole with her middle finger.
"You give up?" she teased.
"Give up? I wasn't aware it was a contest."
"Unlike you to just give in," she said with a shrug. I shook my head at how crazy she could be, but pushed again nonetheless. I farted then and there with her fingers pressed between my cheeks. It was unusually hot and quiet, and I was starting to get concerned that I was going to have to get out of bed and head for the bathroom in a couple of minutes. Alyssa had other plans.
"Fuck!" she mewled with delight (though I wasn't quite sure what she was getting out of this). She pulled her hand away and reached around front, working my cock out of my sleep pants. Neither of us said anything as she pulled my erection out and stroked at it. She moved one of her legs up over my thigh and pulled herself against my body, lining my cock up against her soaking entrance. Her lips found mine and she pulled me into a kiss as my cock slid inside of her. Alyssa threw her head back and moaned, and I couldn't help but growl at the feeling of her tight pussy adjusting to my size.
"God that's good," she murmured. Aly reached behind me as I lazily pumped in and out of her and slipped her hand lower again. I didn't object when she began rubbing her fingers against my asshole, each thrust of my hips pressing back against her hand. She circled her finger around it, then lightly prodded at the entrance without forcing anything. I worked my cock the whole way into her in one hard thrust, and she bit her lip before massaging harder at my asshole.
"Babe," she started, "any chance you have to go?"
"Go?"
"Like...to the bathroom?" There was something playful, borderline deviant, in her eyes, however, that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"I'm not getting up," I replied, burying my face against her neck. I was, however, beginning to feel the pressure in my stomach that let me know I was going to have to head to the bathroom eventually. Her pussy was so tight and wet—unbelievably wet—that nothing in the world could make me get up. Not even when my stomach growled again.
"Are you sure?" she rubbed a circle around the entrance. No, I wasn't sure. There was an unbelievable pressure building in my stomach within seconds, but I kept telling myself it was just gas. In an attempt to distract myself from the feeling in my guy, I mirrored her motion and slipped my hand down the back of her panties. She grinned when I began lazily brushing my fingers between her cheeks. We'd never done anal, but I was beginning to think she was into it. My fingers found her hole, and I found myself curious. I farted again as I played with her, prodding my finger at her tight entrance.
"Are you into this?" she asked as she pressed her finger harder against my asshole. She worked the tip of her finger in, massaging around my entrance.
"Are you?" I asked. I did the same thing to her that she was doing to me. I pulled her flush against me and kissed her, keeping my cock inside of her while we explored each other's bodies a little bit. Alyssa moaned softly as I worked more of my finger in. I was going to go the whole way, but she stopped me.
"That's good for now," she laughed.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Uh huh. It's uh...it feels good, but it's making me have to go to the bathroom. It's because it's the morning," she laughed it off. As she began to pull her hand away from my backside, terror swept over me. I had been so surprised that it felt good that I had forgot about the fact that I did currently have to go to the restroom—admittedly, I had to shit.
"Aly," I stopped her from pulling her arm back, "we've never done anything like that before."
"Right?"
"What if you have shit on your hands or something..?"
"Even better," she said with a wink. I laughed; her sense of humor always got me. She pulled me into a kiss again and I resumed fucking her at our normal speed.
The pressure was becoming unbearable, however, and, in a vain attempt to relieve the feeling, I pushed hard, forcing out a loud, foul fart. Something felt wrong. As I thrust my cock in and out of her, I was acutely aware that there was something wet between my asscheeks. I slowed my movements ever so slightly and concentrated on the feeling, but another wave of pressure hit my stomach full force. This time, the fart that followed was involuntary. A look of panic washed over my face. The smell was horrible, and something now felt soft and hot pressed against my asshole. Then, all at once, I was aware I was shitting my pants.
"Fuck!" I snapped, clenching my cheeks to the best of my ability. It was useless, however, as my asshole flexed and pushed out the rest of a small, soft log of shit. I tried to sit up, but Aly's legs were locked around mine.
"What's wrong?" Alyssa asked, propping herself up on her elbow. I didn't know how to respond.
"I just shit myself," I answered honestly. Aly's eyes unexpectedly lit up.
"You what?"
The last thing I expected was for Aly to reach around behind me and touch my ass, eager to feel the mess I'd made. Before I could think to pull away, my wife was brushing her fingers against the soft mess.
"Oh my god," she breathed, "you did!"
"Stop touching it," I said. Unfortunately for me, I was losing the battle against my body and a second, thicker turd pressed against my asshole Aly rocked her hips hard against mine, sliding my cock the whole way into her soaked pussy. She massaged at the load of shit, causing it to rub against my skin.
"Fucckk," she moaned, now moving her hips so that she was steadily fucking me. I had absolutely no idea what to say or do.
"Aly, stop, I gotta go to the bathroom."
"Do you have to go more?"
"Yeah."
"Do it," she breathed, and I felt her walls tighten around my erection with excitement. "Go right here."
"No!"
"Why not? You already did," she said, and squeezed at the small mess harder this time. My stomach churned and, without thinking about it, I let a fart slip.
"This is terrible," I said, "but...I don't want to get up from fucking you right now, not with how soaked you are. Can I clean up in a minute?"
"You don't have to get up at all. Fuck me and just use your pants!" Aly urged. I bit my lip and went back to fucking her, hard, trying not to think about it. Alyssa squealed with delight and threw her head back, but didn't remove her hand from the seat of my pants.
"I'm not going to shit in my pants, in the bed," I told her, but to be honest, the thought made my cock twitch. There was something dirty about it that made it erotic in a kinky way. My muscles tensed as I struggled against the piece that was threatening to come out, pressing against my asshole and tempting me to just say 'fuck it' and let it go. Aly was moaning and grinding against me and soaking wet; something deep and primal within me wanted to fill my pants right then and there. Alyssa squeezed at my back side again, pressing the turd between my asscheeks and letting me feel the sticky, thick feeling.
As I fucked her, I felt my asshole stretching as a huge turd began to force its way out. "Aly," I panted, desperate and almost pleading, "I can't hold it."
"Do you really want to get up?" she asked, then genuinely slowed her movement. She was letting me get up. I pushed myself up with one arm as she untangled her legs from mine. My stomach cramped and I hissed at the feeling. It was too late; I had already lost control.
"No," I answered, then shamelessly, gracelessly blurted out, "I couldn't make it, I'm going in my pants." Aly dug her nails into my biceps and rocked her hips back and forth on mine, one leg back over mine, her pussy absolutely dripping with her slick, hot juices. She practically whimpered. Even over the wet sound of sex and our moans I could hear the crackling as it came out hot, solid, and almost painfully thick.
"Shit," I hissed. It stopped halfway out, however, so I took the opportunity to finally say 'fuck it.' With a moan, I bore down, cock the whole way inside of Aly, and shit my pants.
"Oh my god!" Alyssa moaned desperately, feeling the growing bulge load my pants. "Oh my god, fuck that's hot!" she said as she wildly ground her hips on mine. I grunted, and with one last push, the piece broke off. The combined pleasure of knowing what I had just done and of the shit itself was disgusting in the most incredible way. I tangled one hand in Aly's hair and kissed her roughly, causing her to clench her hand around the mess in my pants and let out a muffled cry against my mouth.
"Fuck, you're right Aly, it's fucking hot," I moaned against her lips. I moved so that I was fully on top of her, slamming into her over and over, all the while still kissing her. Aly pulled away for a moment.
"So you like it?" she panted, massaging at the solid mass in my briefs.
"It's dirty," I answered truthfully, still pounding into her, "but I fuckin' love it."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it feels good."
"What if I did it, too?"
I slowed my thrusts for a moment and looked at her. Before, my reaction would have been no, but who was I to judge? I was in this situation because I couldn't make it to the bathroom and shit myself in the middle of sex. And then liked it. A lot. I ran one hand through my hair, imagining her on all fours, desperately trying not to go while I fucked her from behind. I loved it. I loved the thought of her wanting to cum so bad that she was trying to hold it just so I could fuck her a little longer, but losing the battle and 'having an accident.' Unable to hold it and losing control, accidentally pooping while I fucked her. Just the thought was enough to make me moan.
"Do you have to go?" I asked, suddenly finding myself hoping the answer was yes. Another fantasy of her getting fucked reverse cowgirl and having to go so bad that she couldn't help it and some slipped out ran through my mind. I audibly moaned again at that thought, imagining that after some accidentally came out she wouldn't be able to hold it and would, embarrassingly, take a massive dump right then and there while on top of me. Since when did I get off to this?
"I always have to go in the morning," she answered. I bit my lip and pushed the whole way into her.
"You gonna do it for me?"
"Do you want me to?"
"How bad do you have to go?" I shifted my weight to one side and rubbed at her clit, my hard-on throbbing inside of her. A smirk crossed her face as she realized what I was playing at.
"I have to go real bad."
"Well, I think you have to hold it for a little while," I told her. The playfulness disappeared from her face.
"I actually do really have to go," she replied. "I can just get up if—" I cut her off by slipping my hands underneath her and flipping her onto her stomach.
"Come on, all fours," I told her and squeezed her backside. With a laugh, Aly obeyed and moved into position. I took a moment to admire the view before I tugged her soaked panties—soft pink cotton—down her thighs. She sighed quietly at the feeling. Once more, I stopped to check her out, watching two of my fingers disappear into her creamy pussy. Alyssa moaned as I dragged my fingers from her hot entrance to her asshole, rubbing and toying at the tight little hole. She flinched, but arched her back nonetheless. Shifting onto my knees, I slipped two fingers back into her pussy and lapped at her asshole with my tongue.
"Fuck!" she cried out, clearly not expecting that. "Oh, fuck," Aly moaned as I prodded at her tight entrance with my tongue, swiping in circles. I smiled at the fact that being this close to her, I could hear her stomach churning, too. I flattened my tongue against her asshole and licked. The tight ring flexed as I worked on it.
"Hey, that feels really good," she began, sounding apprehensive, "but maybe, you know, don't do it right now."
"What? Why?" I felt the load in the seat of my pants shift as I moved back to look at her.
"You know why," she snarked back. Despite her tone, I could tell she legitimately had to go now. Her stomach suddenly churned and I could feel her muscles tense.
"Do you have to fart?"
She didn't answer.
"God, do it, Aly," I moaned, stroking one hand along her beautiful ass.
"No!" she laughed, looking away.
"Why not?"
"I'm not farting in front of you with my ass up in the air."
"Do it," I told her, and used my free hand to pump at my cock without thinking about it.
"No, I'm—" her words were cut short by her own fart. It was muffled, indicating that she did, indeed, have to shit very, very bad. I rubbed her asshole with my finger, tempted to slide it in. I used my other hand to stroke her clit in hopes of coaxing her to do it again. Sure enough, she couldn't fight it and let out another short fart, but this time, her tight little ring flexed just enough to give a glimpse at the turd she was moments away from dropping. I slipped two fingers back into her pussy.
"Just wait until I'm done playing with you, okay?" I tested, wanting to see what her response would be.
"Come on," she complained, shaking her butt a little, "you know how bad I have to go in the morning." I worked my fingers in and out of her pussy and watched her asshole stretch ever so slightly.
"Did you go yesterday morning?"
"No."
"Did you go at all yesterday?"
"...No."
"You really do have to go then, huh?"
"Yeah," she replied. I slammed my fingers the whole way into her, causing her to jump and whimper. Her asshole stretched again, revealing the tip of the first piece waiting to come out. "I don't want to mess up the blankets," she told me, looking around anxiously. I brushed my fingers against her g-spot and enjoyed watching her tight hole stretch again, threatening to lose control and push out the first log while her panties were still pulled down. I stroked her g-spot as I thrust my fingers in and out of her while she clenched her muscles and tried to hold it. She farted quietly, but this time she was dangerously close to losing control as the piece slipped out half an inch or so, and had to tighten her muscles hard to keep it in. 
 "If you don't want to mess up the sheets, should we go in the bathroom?" I suggested. My cock was practically dripping at the sight of her bent over and losing control in front of me.
"Sounds good," Alyssa laughed back with relief. I tugged her panties back up over her firm ass, hiding everything from view. She was quick to climb to her knees and turn to face me, eager to get up. When I rose to my knees, however, she stopped me. Biting her lip, Aly peeled the waistband of both my sleeps pants and my briefs back and peered down at my, undoubtedly shit-smeared, ass.
"Oh my god," she half-laughed, half-moaned. She let the band snap back into place and backed off the bed.
"What?"
"That's huge! More than I ever imagined."
"You imagined this?"
"Yeah, a lot. Come on, please, I really, really, really have to go," she said and shifted from foot to foot. As I stood, I slipped one arm beneath Aly's backside and picked her up in my arms. "Oh shit," she gasped, and though she wrapped her legs around my torso, she clasped one hand over her ass. Aly attempted to hold on to my shoulders with one hand while keeping the other clasped over her butt, but her face was a bright, flustered pink. I kissed her neck as I blindly found my way to the bathroom.
"Shit," she whimpered as I lowered her down, letting her feet touch the floor. I couldn't help but notice that she didn't remove her hand from her backside. I sat down on the floor, feeling the mess in my pants flatten against me, and she followed suit, not taking her hand away. As she knelt down, she cursed under her breath and bit her lip.
"Reverse cowgirl," I told her, placing my hands on her thighs and turning her around. Once she had her back to me, I pulled her hand away.
"Sorry," she murmured sheepishly
"Aly," I breathed, "did you...?"
"I couldn't hold it!"
I pulled her panties back, the same way she had done to me, and looked down. Two small, solid lumps of shit were nestled against her asshole. I couldn't fucking believe it—she'd actually lost control while I was carrying her. I groaned and pulled the gusset of her panties aside, brushing my fingers through her wetness. I lined my cock up with her entrance and rubbed the head against it, but didn't put it in. Aly moaned at the feeling, her head leaned back and her thighs and hands trembling. I rocked my hips back and forth lightly, just to enjoy the feeling of my own shit spreading across my ass while dragging the head across her soaking entrance. I'd never imagined something so filthy could be so sexual. However, I wanted to toy with Aly a few moments longer, just to tease her.
"Okay, before you go, I want to fuck a little bit more," I told her, slipping the head inside.
"Baby I can't hold it, I'm going to go no matter what you're doing!"
I pulled her hips down, forcing her halfway down my shaft.
"Just wait a few more minutes," I told her, and slid the rest of my cock inside her. "Or are you going to go some more?" I reached around and rubbed her clit through her panties. "Are you going to accidentally poop just like this?"
I felt Alyssa's walls tighten with excitement at my words. "I'm not going to be able to make it," she groaned. "I have to go."
"You have to what?" I rubbed her clit slow, but hard.
"I have to shit."
"What was that? I didn't quite catch—"
"I have to go right now so bad, if you don't let me move, I'm going to go all over you," Aly moaned as I played with her clit. She tried to press her hand over her ass again, adjusting her panties so that she could cover her tight hole without mushing up what had already slipped out.
"You already had an accident, are you really going to take a huge dump right in your panties?" Aly's muscles jerked and she desperately tried to contain the impending mess.
"Fuck, I'm doing it now...Fuck...I can't stop it."
"What are you doing, baby?" There was a soft crackling as she lost control and completely pooped her panties.
"I'm going—it's coming out," she moaned.
"Yeah?" I held myself still so I could watch and adjusted her panties back so that they were covering her entirely. The soft, pink cotton began to tent out as a huge turd forced its way out of her. I groaned in absolute ecstasy as I watched the dark patch form, stretching out against the back. Without warning, I felt a hot, warm sensation on my cock and got distracted. A light stream ran down my cock and dripped onto my balls.
"Aly, are you...are you wetting yourself?"
"I'm sorry," she was quick to apologize, "I'm trying to hold it." She pressed her hand to her front, trying to stop it. I was genuinely surprised. I had been so caught up in a new fantasy that I hadn't considered she might have to pee, as well. However, this didn't seem like foreplay or anything sexy—she was legitimately peeing herself unintentionally. She actually couldn't hold it from the pressure of her shit being forced out.
"Let go, baby," I told her. "The floor is tile. If you can't hold it, it's okay. If you have to pee, you can wet yourself."
"No, that's too much of a mess," she groaned, but the stream steadily picked up. She was completely soaking not only the front of her panties that halfway covered her, but my pants, as well. Despite the fact we were literally messing around with a shit fetish, there was something intimate and innocent about her peeing on me and herself in a genuine accident.
I looked back at her ass again, her panties tented out slightly, and reached around to pull her hand away from her. When I moved her hand, she groaned and let go; a gush of hot piss squirted out as she pushed again, forcing out the thick load. Alyssa had to lift her ass slightly to allow more of it to come out. As her panties expanded out further, I could see the long, dark turd through her sagging leg band. It came out fairly firm, but was soft enough to mush up with the pressure of being pressed against the fabric of her panties. I ground my ass against my own mess, and combined with the stimulation of my own shit, her pooping her panties, and the warm stream of pee from Aly, it was too much to bear.
"Hang on," I grunted. I lifted my ass and slipped my pants down to my thighs—I didn't care how much of a mess it made of the floor, I knew what I wanted. I grabbed Alyssa's ass with both hands and squeezed hard, spreading her cheeks apart. She gasped, but kept her ass lifted slightly. I used my left hand to pull her panties to the side, revealing her backside to me. The log had broken off, but left a few smears of dark shit around her hole.
"Babe!" she cried out, surprised. The thick turd spilled out of her panties and onto my lower abdomen, warm and sticky. I kept her panties pulled aside with one hand while the other was still grabbing at her ass, keeping her half spread. She clamped one hand over her tight hole (despite the slight mess) and tried to keep her balance.
"I'm not done!" she protested. "I still have to go!" I noticed she pressed a little harder, her thighs tense.
"It's okay," I told her, "you already let a bunch out. You can hold it now." I smirked at her, and she simultaneously looked at a loss for words while also looking worried. I bucked up into her again and she gasped. I slowly began to bounce her up and down on my cock, amazed by how extremely wet she was. As I fucked her, keeping her ass spread, I had the perfect view as another piece 'turtle-headed' out. She tightened her muscles and fought against it.
"Fuck, fuck, that's good but I have to go really bad."
I slammed my full length into her and then pulled the whole way out before slamming back in, then went back to bouncing her. The pleasure was too much, and the piece protruded again. She reached back to try and cover herself up, but I couldn't take the cat-and-mouse game anymore. I was done teasing both her and myself.
"Shit on me, Aly," I groaned, picking up speed.
"Just like this?"
"Just like this."
"I don't know...convince me," she panted, trying to keep her voice steady with each thrust.
"I don't think you're in a position to bargain, baby," I snorted, "you're about to lose control so bad."
"That's not very convincing," she said, but as she spoke, her tight, dirty hole stretched again as the turd began to inch out. One more time, she fought to keep it in. "Oh fuck I have to go..."
"Do it, baby. You know you can't hold it any more. I did it, too. I farted and couldn't even make it to the bathroom on time. Now you just accidentally took a huge poop in your panties. You've already had an accident twice, so you might as well finish taking a dump right now."
Alyssa cried out in pleasure and ground her hips against mine hard. She leaned forward just a bit and rested one hand on my thigh, using the other to spread the side I wasn't holding—but just a little. And then and there, as I fucked her, she let go. I could barely control myself as she pushed out another thick rope, longer than the first, but firm. It fell onto my lower abdomen, just above my cock.
She mewled as she rocked her hips back and forth, surprising me with a loud fart. Another push resulted in another fart, then another. A light stream of piss dripped out of her and onto my cock since she was no longer inhibiting herself, taking the opportunity to relieve herself onto me fully. Aly lifted her ass slightly, intentionally allowing me a better view. She barely had to push as a small turd fell onto my lap, quickly followed by two more logs that poured out of her with ease. Another log squeezed out and joined the pile of shit as she emptied herself on top of me.
"Oh, fuck, baby," I groaned. She still didn't seem done, but I was getting dangerously close to cumming. I bucked at her wildly as she lowered herself again, allowing me to force my cock the whole way into her and smearing the pile against her backside. She forced out a wet, sputtering fart as I rubbed my cock against her. Aly steadied herself, then, to my surprise, grunted and bore down. I slowed my thrusts to watch as she released a torrent of soft, semisolid shit in a pile on my lap with a wet, mushy, crackling. It was hot and sticky and soft, and the feeling was incredible. She farted one more time and pushed out one last squirt of soft shit before moaning with pleasure and relief.
"That feels so much better," she panted, digging her nails into my thighs. "I'm sorry I couldn't hold it any more, I hadn't gone in two days. I didn't mean to make a mess on you or in my panties," she feigned innocence.
"Alyssa, this is so fucking hot" I moaned, unable to think of anything smart to say back to her.
"Make me cum, baby. Please," she was practically begging. "I'm so close already. I've wanted this for a long time." That was all she needed to say. I sat up and pulled her back with me, resting my back against our bath tub. The position smeared Alyssa's mess over my lower stomach and against her ass, but we both moaned in unison at the hot, dirty feeling. I fucked her fast as hard, working her clit with one hand and gripping her hips with the other.
"Oh fuck!" she squealed, her pussy tightening around my pulsating erection. "Just like that, fuck! I'm cumming, fuck! I'm cumming, don't stop, please don't stop."
"Come on dirty girl, squirt for me so I can fill you up with my cum. We're both so fucking horny and filthy, squirt for me." My voice and hands and thighs were all shaking, seconds away from cumming. In one final, animalistic cry, Alyssa came and squirted hard, throwing her head back and grinding herself the whole way down on my cock. The world went white as I released my load inside of her. It took several seconds to come down from the high, to make sense of anything. I'd never cum that hard or that much in my life, having filled her with pump after pump of my cum. Aly was leaned forward, resting her hands on my knees, hanging her head in an attempt to catch her breath.
"Aly, how long have you wanted to do that?" I asked with a laugh, panting.
"Since we've met."
"You've always wanted it?"
"Yeah, since I was a teenager," Aly said, pulling herself off of my softening cock and turning around to face me. We were both still out of breath, flushed, and shaking. With the heat of the moment over, we were looking at my sleep pants—completely caked with shit—and her mess all over me, wondering how the hell we were going to clean up.
"You should've told me sooner, y'know. We could have been fucking like this all along."
"You would have thought I was crazy!" she laughed, straddling my lap and kissing me.
"I already think you're crazy," I teased. I kissed her jaw and she sighed, tired and happy. "You're crazy, but I love you."
"I love you too, but I think we're both crazy thinking we can possibly clean this mess up."

FARTY PANTIES

I went out briefly with Chanelle , we were both about 17 at the time , she was a very windy girl when we were out for dinner or even just watching a dvd at hers or mine she would keep going to the loo . At first I thought she had a weak bladder as it at least every half an hour , On a couple of  occasions I needed to go to the toilet straight after her and the toilet would smell of rotten eggs as we had only been going out a short time I would not mention it . What I liked about Chanelle the most was that she had a proper females bum, very curvy and bouncy, I loved touching her up through her leggings and if she wore a skirt I would touch her up through her panties.

What broke the ice was when I put my hand up her skirt when she was putting in a dvd and she accidentally farted, it made hardly any noise but just whooshed out onto my hand and was red hot and bad smelling like rotten eggs. She went very red and stuttered that she had a stomach ache from something she had ate and that she did usually smell that bad. I had to say that I had smelt that same smell when I had gone to the toilet after her, after a lot of teasing she admitted that she had an irritable bowl and needed to fart a lot , as gas would build up in her intestines and how she had gone to the toilet to fart. I said you go at least every 30 minutes do you really fart that much. I would fart a lot more but I hold it so as not to be to obvious and on many occasions she had eased farts out when outside and not near a toilet

I usually try and make sure it is noisy and the wind is in the right direction. I said I thought I had smelt something unpleasant a few times but assumed it was something else I said to her you are stupid trying to hide it as I was not offended if she needed to fart I even admitted it was a bit of a turn on as I was a big-time ass lover . She said I knew you liked my arse but never my farts.

She went to excuse herself to the toilet again when I said just let it go , I don’t mind seriously , are you sure she said , yes please its pointless keep going to the toilet .

She had on her work skirt that was just above her knees and fit very snug round her

Thighs and bum and I already checked her knickers out by feeling her up earlier tight white lace