Posted by Maria on June 26, 2009 at 09:30 [76.113.117.88]
Before I begin this next installment I should give some background about where I was at with this fetish at the time. I was an incorrigible underwear filler as a kid and frequently did it in my pants till I was about nine. Then I became more sociable and more girlish, so I stopped. After high school came my 20s, when I always had roommates. In my 30s, I was with a partner. He was very, very kinky, in fact a total pervert, but he didn’t like scat so I kept my mouth shut. Now I was by myself, pushing 40, living all alone with my sexual fantasies pouring over me like a waterfall as I sat in my apartment by myself every night. I started pooping in my pants again at that time; when you live alone, no one can tell you what to do. But I wanted to share it with someone.
And that is how I found myself walking into the local Applebee’s, trembling with fear that I was about to meet the next Ted Bundy, even though my heart of hearts already knew this guy was okay. We recognized each other from photos we had e-mailed, and nodded to each other across the room. We sat down and started to talk. There we were, surrounded by bright lights, rock music, and noisy families, sitting in a booth at the back of the room and talking quietly about… pooping.
I should mention how Roy got into this fetish. He grew up on a farm in the Midwest. When he was about 13, his cousin Julie came to stay for the summer, having just graduated from high school. She lived in the guest cottage out back. Roy did what any 13 year old boy could be expected to do and fell madly in love with his pretty 18-year-old cousin. But it soon became clear the Julie’s parents had shipped her off to farm world because she was a troublemaker and a slut, always sneaking out the window to see the boys. She was also a budding pervert who shocked and bewildered her host family by casually pooping in her pants a couple of times a week. Whenever she did it, Roy found himself sleepless, tossing and turning in his bed with a gigantic, throbbing hard-on. He had been through all kinds of fetish scenes in his life but had never found another Julie. I was the first.
And I could see that even though he totally wasn’t my type sexually, there was something gentle and honest in his soul, as I had suspected from our e-mails. For gosh sakes, he didn’t even know for sure if I would agree to do anything. I hadn’t actually promised. But he had driven for 7 or 8 hours and spent his hard-earned money on a motel room just because I “might” feel generous. Seeing the way he had utterly surrendered himself to this fetish in such a gentle way, I told him I would do it, the next morning when it was time to drop the daily load. I would call him. I didn’t want to go to the motel because I couldn’t feel comfortable in such an antiseptic setting, and by now I could see he was a kind person, so I told him he could come to my apartment to watch me do it.
I woke up the next morning, had coffee and breakfast, and felt the urge begin to grow. I knew from our e-mails that Roy was very typical in his fetish tastes and liked big white nylon full-briefs, like so many of you, so I pulled on a pair and called the motel, then gave him directions. Fifteen minutes later he knocked on the door. I was wearing a knee-length housedress.
We were both a bit flustered and didn’t know what to do. In one way it was very sexual, even though not overtly so, I had already told him I didn’t want to do that. I invited him to sit down on the couch. He wasn’t interested in having a cup of coffee. I still didn’t know quite what to do, so I did the simplest thing possible. I bent over an armchair, lifted my dress up to my waist, and raised my butt up just a few feet from his face. Then I closed my eyes, did some deep breathing (quick thanks to my yoga teacher), and surrendered. I had imagined that such a thing would be difficult to accomplish, and I was amazed at how easy it was when the moment finally came. I guess it was easy because I knew that finally, after 40 years of living, I was at last expressing the deepest and most profound aspect of my own sexuality. I dropped the whole morning load in my big nylon panties, a couple of big logs and a bit extra.
Roy just sat there on the couch whispering, “Oh my God! Oh my God!” When I was finished, there was silence. Then he asked me, begging almost like a child, if he could touch the back of my panties. I said yes. He stood up. I could barely feel his quiet, tentative touch upon the three-inch bulge but I could hear him gasp and I knew, even with my eyes closed, that he was masturbating. He cried out like a child when he came, then sat down on the couch again.
I went into the bathroom and took a shower. I rinsed out my panties, then hung them up on the shower rod. You know what mere rinse does, it leaves the brown stain. I changed and went back to the living room. We talked for a while. He said he should be going, but asked if he could use the restroom first. He spent a long time in there and I knew he was fiddling with my panties, but I didn’t care.
It had been a pretty good experience, so we agreed to sustain a friendship. Roy is taller than I am, so he bent over and kissed me on the head. He said I was the most wonderfully erotic Goddess he had ever known. He called me his Spanish rose.
Roy and I have remained friends over the years. I have staged a few similar episodes with him, whenever we can manage to get together. There is still no sex, though he has made it clear that he would like to have a serious relationship with me if I ever wanted it. One of the reasons I don’t make a real effort to meet people from the board is because Roy understands the strange, mystical, even ritualistic nature of my fetishism better than anyone else ever has, and in my heart of hearts I know that this is what will matter to me the most as I grow older, and as mere physical attraction fades into the background.
But back then I was still eager for the game. You will see, in part one, that I mentioned I had actually gathered two guys, and that the second one was Jack, for whom I thought I might have some real passion. I have never, ever posted any part of that story on the board before, but I am ready to do so. It was a stormy encounter that took me beyond all previous boundaries, to the ultimate limits of this fetish, learning how to load my undies in a public place.
Until then, besos y abrazos,
Your Spanish Rose
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