Posted by orgm on January 31, 2010 at 14:20 [95.144.10.179]
Debbie woke up and looked at the bedside alarm – it was half past six. Sunday morning at half six and all was quiet. She always got up this early so she could go out for her run. It made her enjoy her bath and masturbation session all the more…
She threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Wandering over to the mirror, she admired her eighteen-year old body, slender and toned, naked but for the black thong she wore in bed last night. Her nipples were pert as the heating hadn’t come on yet and it was a bit chilly in the house. Debbie stretched out her arms in front of the mirror. She looked at her stomach and frowned – did she feel a little bloated? Perhaps the curry she’d had last night had been a bit rich. No matter – she took lots of exercise so she knew it would be fine.
She had a routine that she’d followed every Sunday morning since she was sixteen: get up at half past six, go for a four-mile run round the town and the park, come back to a warm bath and give herself a little reward for her running. It would be about half past eight by this time, when she would have breakfast with her parents. Sunday always meant a fry-up! Debbie often went for her morning poo before setting off, but decided this morning that it would keep until she was back.
Debbie slipped off the thong and left it on her bedroom floor. Her mum often moaned at her for leaving her dirty knickers lying around, but mum would still be in bed until after Debbie was back. She looked again in the mirror, rubbing her fingers across her pubic bone to decide whether she needed to get it waxed again (she had a Brazilian every few weeks – one of the advantages of having a wealthy father). She decided that she would make an appointment with the salon for after school one day this week – Debbie was in her final year at school and was off to university in Exeter this autumn.
Opening her drawers, she pulled out her black leggings that she wore for running, a black sports bra and a white tank top that fitted her quite neatly. She raked through her knicker drawer for a black thong to wear under her leggings, but couldn’t find one – she wanted to be colour-coordinated. She couldn’t bear the thought of putting on the thong she’d worn last night and all day yesterday, instead settling for a black pair of bikini knickers with a scalloped edge and a pretty little black bow on the front. Debbie was a bit of a “clean freak”, which went along with her toned body and reasonably prosperous background. “Good old M&S”, she thought as she completed the outfit with black trainer socks, her running trainers and a scrunchy to hold up her long blonde hair.
Debbie put on her iPod and headed out the front door. As she did, she felt a twinge in her stomach as the bloated feeling took hold again. Debbie let out a small fart as she closed the door. “Not very ladylike!”, she giggled to herself. She set off on her run, pounding along the pavement towards the park, getting up to a good speed. No one was on her street, but as she turned the corner she saw an old man walking a small dog. Otherwise the streets were deserted. “Not many people around this early!”, she thought as she carried on with her run.
About five minutes later, she was well in to her stride. She enjoyed running, and she found it something of a turn-on being out in her rather skimpy running gear. She didn’t usually wear leggings if she was going out, as many of the girls did these days, but she did like wearing them for running and her weekly yoga class. Ten minutes later, as she turned into the park, Debbie felt a stabling pain in the bottom of her stomach. What had been a twinge was now a very definite pain. Her stomach did not feel good at all!
“Oh!”, gasped Debbie, as she slowed down to a brisk walk. She put her left hand on her hip and tried to massage her intestine slightly to relieve the pain. “I wish I’d gone to the toilet before I came out!,” she muttered, “Bugger. Here I am, out in the park, ages from home, and my tummy feels as if it might explode.” Debbie carried on walking, by this time quite slowly, her hands on her stomach. A rumbling sensation went through her bowel and she realised that she needed to poo very very badly.
Another few minutes slipped by. Debbie’s face got hotter and redder as she tried to tense up her pelvic muscles and hold her sphincter tight. She was by this point bent over in agony as her stomach continued to churn away. She farted again – thankfully no-one was watching – but the pain and the bloatedness would not subside. Debbie was by this point on the other side of the lake and was a long way from home. Twenty minutes running at full speed, much longer walking. “What am I going to do?”, she gasped. “Samantha lives round the corner – could I head round to hers?”, she thought as she rubbed her stomach.
But it was too late for that by this point. Debbie stood there in the park and finally accepted the inevitable: she was about to shit herself. Eighteen years old, very popular at school, reasonably bright and headed for university, and yet here she was in the local park at seven on a Sunday morning, seconds away from filling her knickers with poo. Debbie felt a moistness between her bum cheeks as she stood there whimpering, and accepted that her sphincter muscles couldn’t hold out any longer. She bent her knees slightly, and as she did, the muscles in her bum relaxed and she farted once more. An explosion of soft, hot, mushy poo emerged from her anus and collected in the seat of her black knickers. As she straightened her legs, more poo began to follow it, this time a bit thicker and more regular. Debbie felt her knickers expand further as her bowels continued with the cleansing process. By the time she had stood up properly, the pains in Debbie’s stomach had passed, but now she had another slight problem to contend with…
She looked around, noting that no-one was there, and felt her bum through her leggings. Placing both hands against her bum, she could feel the enormous quantity of poo trestled within her black knickers. Debbie bit her lip and began to sob slightly. “What a mess! How could I have shit myself? I haven’t done this since I was three! How on earth can I go home like this?”. Debbie felt the warm poo against her bum and under her legs as well. Even taking baby steps, the mess started to spread. She could feel the poo come into contact with the front of her pussy as she started to walk home.
Debbie thought a little bit harder about what had happened. She couldn’t deny that she was starting to feel slightly turned on. “No-one’s here at this time in the morning, mum and dad will still be in bed, and I can have my bath when I get in”, she thought, feeling a little happier as she walked. “Ooooh! I’ve just done a poo in my knickers!”, she said as she walked back. “Maybe this isn’t so bad after all!”. Since her stomach felt better, the offending poo now redistributing itself across her knickers, she started to run again. The bouncing involved caused the poo to smear itself across Debbie’s peachy bum and start to make its way out of her knickers and into her leggings. The smell was also becoming more obvious to her – luckily she was still outdoors.
Debbie made it back home without being noticed. She opened the kitchen door and slipped off her trainers to avoid making a noise. Tiptoeing in her black trainer socks, she climbed the stairs and made it into the bathroom without being disturbed, grabbing as she did yesterday’s newspaper to put down on the floor. She locked the door and decided to survey the damage done inside her leggings.
Debbie began by removing her socks, tank top and sports bra, so that they wouldn’t wind up getting poo on them. Standing topless in front of the mirror, the newspaper beneath her, she pulled down her leggings and knickers in one go. “Wow!”, she said, “That’s a lot of poo!”. Her bum and pussy were completely covered in the brown stuff, and the smell became much more noticeable. She decided that her knickers were a write-off, pulling them from her leggings and dropping them onto the newspaper with a resoundingly wet thump. The black leggings might be salvageable, she concluded as she wiped the worst of the poo from her bum and pussy with some toilet paper. She opened the window to let the foul smell out and emptied the shit from her knickers into the toilet.
Debbie decided that a shower might be more appropriate than a bath, so she climbed in and turned on the mixer tap. The hot water against her naked dirty body felt good. She applied her shower gel to the areas that needed it, and started to lather up. Her small trip of pubic hair had become caked in poo after she ran home with the mess in her pants. As she applied the shower gel to her private parts, she couldn’t help but slip a finger into her hot wet pussy. Debbie thought some more about what she had done – how liberating it had felt as she had regressed to her younger self and made a big brown mess in her knickers. By this time the water around her feet had turned brown, and she started to moan. Debbie continued to rub her clitoris as the hot water removed the poo stuck to her bum, thinking about how much she had enjoyed this morning. A massive orgasm shot through Debbie’s supple body, causing her to gasp with the shock of it. “Thank God I didn’t scream!”, she whispered to herself as she heard someone walking down towards the kitchen.
She washed the worst of the poo from her leggings, pleased that she’d managed to clean them up. She could now put them in the wash and her mum would never notice. She wrapped the dirty knickers up in the newspaper and put a towel around her. Checking no-one was about, Debbie sneaked back to her bedroom unnoticed. She found a plastic bag to hide the newspaper and knickers in.
Debbie dressed quickly in a black top, red thong and matching bra and her favourite jeans. She hid the bag in her cupboard and headed down the stairs for breakfast. As she did, her mum came out of her room and walked along the landing.
“Debbie!”, she said, “Can you please stop leaving your dirty knickers on the floor? We’ve talked about this before!”.
Debbie smiled as she turned and came back up the stairs to pick up yesterday’s thong. Dirty knickers? Mum didn’t know the half of it!