This happened only a couple of weeks ago and marks a special occasion in the history of my disobedient bowel. This was the first time my wife actually witnessed my arse misbehaving.
My wife has always wondered how I, a grown man, cannot seem to manage to get to the toilet in time. I always tell her that I have very little notice, but it never seems to be believable. And understandably so.
We were shopping in our local town centre, and were on our way back to our car. I felt the ever familar cramps in my stomach and the reactionary twitching of my ringpiece. "WAIT!" I shouted in panic, as I stood on the spot clenching as hard as I could, desperately trying to hold off the inevitable. "What?!" replied my wife, understandably annoyed as we were laden with carrier bags. "It's happening" I replied. She knew what I meant, and without one ounce of sympathy she burst out laughing. This is turn set me off laughing. After all it was pretty funny. Swiftly managing to control my laughter (which allowed me to concentrate on my back-end issues) I made the decision to get back to the car. The quicker I get home, the quicker I can drop my load.
I waddled for a couple of minutes to the car park, my arse cheeks throbbing with being clenched for so long. But as soon as our car was in our field of vision, I realised that getting home was not an option - I was going to have to shit... right here, right now.
Fortunately the car park we used was fairly secluded. I dropped the bags of shopping on the floor next to our car, dove between our car and the wall, dropped my trousers, crouched, and with a mighty roar my arse propelled a brown liquid slurry about three feet behind me, decorating the floor with liquid smelling so foul even Satan would have been proud. The entire deed took less than two seconds.
Taking a deep breath and looking to the heavens in thanks, I saw the look on my wife's face. Part confusion, part horror, part surprise.
"Well hand me something to wipe my arse with, then!" I shouted, which snapped my wife out of the half-laughing-half-shocked state she was in. Handing me a packet of wet-wipes (thank God women carry handbags) I quickly cleaned myself up, pulled my trousers up, and turned to see the mess I had made. It was cone shaped. The narrow end was about a foot away from where my arse had been, the wide end was about two feet further. I didn't look at the mess very long, the stench was horriffic.
For the first time on this blog, I asked my wife to comment on the event. However, after quite some time (weeks) thinking about what to type, she simply said "I'm speechless. I don't know how to describe what happened."
My wife has always wondered how I, a grown man, cannot seem to manage to get to the toilet in time. I always tell her that I have very little notice, but it never seems to be believable. And understandably so.
We were shopping in our local town centre, and were on our way back to our car. I felt the ever familar cramps in my stomach and the reactionary twitching of my ringpiece. "WAIT!" I shouted in panic, as I stood on the spot clenching as hard as I could, desperately trying to hold off the inevitable. "What?!" replied my wife, understandably annoyed as we were laden with carrier bags. "It's happening" I replied. She knew what I meant, and without one ounce of sympathy she burst out laughing. This is turn set me off laughing. After all it was pretty funny. Swiftly managing to control my laughter (which allowed me to concentrate on my back-end issues) I made the decision to get back to the car. The quicker I get home, the quicker I can drop my load.
I waddled for a couple of minutes to the car park, my arse cheeks throbbing with being clenched for so long. But as soon as our car was in our field of vision, I realised that getting home was not an option - I was going to have to shit... right here, right now.
Fortunately the car park we used was fairly secluded. I dropped the bags of shopping on the floor next to our car, dove between our car and the wall, dropped my trousers, crouched, and with a mighty roar my arse propelled a brown liquid slurry about three feet behind me, decorating the floor with liquid smelling so foul even Satan would have been proud. The entire deed took less than two seconds.
Taking a deep breath and looking to the heavens in thanks, I saw the look on my wife's face. Part confusion, part horror, part surprise.
"Well hand me something to wipe my arse with, then!" I shouted, which snapped my wife out of the half-laughing-half-shocked state she was in. Handing me a packet of wet-wipes (thank God women carry handbags) I quickly cleaned myself up, pulled my trousers up, and turned to see the mess I had made. It was cone shaped. The narrow end was about a foot away from where my arse had been, the wide end was about two feet further. I didn't look at the mess very long, the stench was horriffic.
For the first time on this blog, I asked my wife to comment on the event. However, after quite some time (weeks) thinking about what to type, she simply said "I'm speechless. I don't know how to describe what happened."
