I was taking my weekly Sunday run through the city’s park system and after I had done my 5K, I veered off to the city street where Park Avenue meets Hazlit Street and went into the local coffee shop. I loved their iced coffee after a good run and ordered my usual. The cute guy behind the counter gave me the icy coffee drink, I paid with a smile and walked out of the store.
Truth be told, I liked having the cute guy wait on me at the coffeehouse and I always feel good about my body after my 5K run. My name is Theresa and I’ve been working on my shape for a year now, trying to lose most of the weight I put on since moving here, working full-time, and gaining a few pounds from my sedentary existence in a cubicle and my more solitary existence in a new city with few friends so far.
I walked along Park Avenue towards my apartment in a high rise that overlooked the small city. I didn’t have a great view from my apartment but it was still exciting for me to be on my own, twenty-three years old, employed, and able to support myself after college apartments with girlfriends and my parents house about a hundred miles in the country from here.
As I rode up the elevator to the tenth floor, I began to feel a rumbling in my belly. Sometimes, the iced coffee had that effect on me after a jog and with no breakfast beforehand. This day, however, the rumbling was strong and I could feel the very strong need to get to my bathroom.
“Damn! I cried to myself. “How slow is this fucking elevator?”
Finally the lift came to its slow stop and the doors took a moment or two to open slowly to discharge its sole passenger: me. By now, I was suffering the contractions of a bathroom moment and still with a length of hallway to negotiate before I reached my door.
About two thirds of the way down the hall, I had to stop and place my hand against the wall to get my stomach under control, clenching my buttcheeks together to avoid an accident. I pulled my single apartment key from my skintight running shorts to be prepared when I reached my own door, still several yards away in the empty hallway.
Just before I reached 1019, my apartment, I had a violent contraction and I almost went to my knees, just feet away from the door to my apartment.
“Oh, fu-u-u-u-ck!” I screamed inside my own head as the urge took hold of me completely. I stopped and gripped the wall near apartment 1017 to wrestle with my insides to halt the inevitable force in my tummy.
In a burst of relief as I farted loudly in the hallway, I was able to move again to 1019. I quickly put the key in my door and hopped inside in a panic. The contractions were too severe. I was immobilized, except for the ability to swing my door shut behind me.
As I stood looking into my apartment, the living room before me, the small kitchen to the left, the bathroom farther to the right, near my bedroom, I went completely weak.
“Oh, fuck!” ataşehir escort I said aloud.
I began to shit myself in the tight spandex running shorts I was wearing.
I stood stock still as I shit my pants right in my apartment’s small vestibule. As I was releasing my bowels, I could feel a warm gush of urine running down my legs as I cramped and let everything flood out.
“Oh, holy, fucking mother!” I cried aloud in the privacy of my own apartment as I emptied myself into my tight spandex shorts.
“Theresa, you just shit yourself.” I said to myself. And then another contraction hit me even as I was experiencing the first sensations of shit in my pants and piss running down my legs.
Suddenly, the second assault of my disturbed bowels attacked and was worse than the first and I had the twin sensation of having to loose a flood of urine from my bladder. “Oh, Mommy, I am going to shit myself again!” I said in a whisper, even as the urine began running down my legs to the hard tiles of my small vestibule entryway.
I felt the shit flow out my ass and into the tight running shorts with nowhere to go except build a small pile trapped between the spandex material and my asscheeks.
I dropped to my knees as I let the evacuation happen. I could feel warm shit in my shorts and the piss that had flowed was now warm, then cold, against my bare thighs.
“Oh, Theresa.” I said to myself as I fell to my knees in the vestibule.
“Now what?” I asked myself as I leaned forward on all fours. There was a small puddle of piss between my knees and my hands where I planted myself. I could feel the warm, soft texture of my bowel movement trapped in my tight shorts and the coolness on my thighs as my piss dried in the air-conditioned apartment. I crouched there, not sure what to do next. It was several yards across a very light beige carpet to my bathroom and I was afraid of dripping or dropping (or both) any of the trapped urine and shit from my shorts on the immaculate carpet.
I tried a tentative move forward on hands and knees. As soon as I moved my legs, I felt the brown mess in my shorts squish deeper into my ass cheeks and outwards to the meaty part of my rump. “Oooh!” I thought to myself as the pudding-y feel of the shit moved against my skin compressed by the tight shorts. “That’s kind of nice. Comforting, even.” My body sent this odd notion into my head.
I moved backward with another leg movement and felt the shit squish in a different motion as I did so. Damn, It was an interesting – and not unpleasurable – feeling to have a heaping load of excrement in my shorts and squishing into and around my tightly packed ass. I lifted one of my hands from the floor and reached back to touch my crotch, feeling the dampness from the urine. Then, being bolder, I reached under myself further and felt the warm mound of shit that piled inside my shorts over my asshole where kadıköy escort it had discharged. “Oh, that’s soft.” I said to myself as I gently pressed my hand against the moist bulge in my shit-filled shorts.
Suddenly, I was filled with shame at my thoughts. I withdrew my hand and placed it again on the floor next to my clean hand. When I looked down, I could see that my handprint was outlined in brown on the tiles. There was something about the appearance of that brown stain and the still-warm feeling in my asscheeks that made me lift my hand. I looked at my palm, brown-stained and with tiny specks of shit that had seeped right through the thin spandex material of the shorts. Instinctively, I brought my dirty hand up, smelled its strong aroma, and licked it.
“Oh, that’s gross!” I cried inside my head. But I didn’t stop licking. I could feel the tiny solid pieces of shit on my tongue as I licked my palm. “You’re a dirty girl, Theresa.” I said to myself as I tried to discern whether I was revolted by this instinct or whether I enjoyed it.
I put my hand back down on the tiles and moved it back to the puddle of urine on the floor beneath me. I slid my hand through the lukewarm puddle and again brought my hand back to observe it. My hand was wet and there was the slight odor of urine but I again brought it to my lips and tongued it like it was liquid candy. The taste was salty and it had a slicker feeling than just plain liquid. Without making a conscious decision, I knew I liked it.
I backed up further, letting the mess squish again in my shorts so that the forward part of my urine puddle was now under my face. I dipped down and licked the puddle, taking a full taste of my piss right from the tiles. With my face this close to the puddle, the urine odor was stronger but only worked to urge me to taste more of my own piss.
With a new feeling running thorugh my head, I reached a hand back to my shit-filled shorts and pushed my hand into the center of the soft mass that was trapped there. I smeared my hand over the top of my shorts, letting the shit spread even further over my asscheeks. It felt divine to play with my despoiled ass and the warm softness beneath the tight spandex material.
I realized now that I was having a sexual moment with myself and pushed my shit-stained hand into my crotch to find my clit beneath the tight shorts. “Oh, fuck me!” I cried aloud, as I played with myself and rotated my asscheeks to get the shit rolling around in my shorts.
Without a thought, I brought my hand up to my face and licked it clean. “Glorious.” I thought to myself as I tasted the shit on my hand. I collapsed on my side and began removing the shorts from my bottom as my face lay cheek-down in the urine puddle. I was able to get the tight shorts rolled part-way down my thighs. The full aroma of my disgrace was now free to fill the small vestibule and I dipped a free hand into the bostancı escort bayan center of my messed ass. I can’t really describe this first feeling of having my hand deep in the loose pile of shit that covered my lower regions. I rolled forward lightly so I could lick more piss off the floor as I spread my shit over my now-naked ass. I dipped my hand back to the center of my shit-smeared ass and scraped a nice handful of the mess onto my fingers. I took another long lick of urine from the floor and then brought the scooped shit forward to my mouth. I opened wide and pushed my hand into my mouth and sucked my fingers clean. “Eat shit, Theresa.” I told myself as I began to play the pile around my mouth with my tongue and chew it softly as it oozed between my teeth and cheeks. The taste was unlike anything in my experience: dry, yet moist, with no particular flavor, yet definitely flavorful, gross, yet wildly appetizing to my heightened sexual state. I took one small swallow of a small amount. I gagged on it as it hit the back of my throat and nearly spit it out but I swallowed again and it disappeared into my gullet. I took another sip of urine from the floor and swallowed that as a chaser.
Before I could think about it, my hand instinctively went back to my ass for another handful of the soft mess from my bottom. This time I examined it before licking it from my fingers. I brushed a small amount across my lips and let my nose get a heady scent of its strong aroma. Then I lowered the hand to my vagina and wiped my dirty hand in my labia. I brought my middle finger up to my clitoris and began jilling myself. I was more excited than I realized because the very first rub on my clit sent me shivering and gasping as I lay half-in and half-out of the piss puddle. I didn’t give a fuck about any of that now. I reached my free hand down past my crotch to get more loose shit on my fingers. I ate a huge gob of the horrible-fantastic substance and fingered my clit stronger as I ate my feces. “Oh, fuck, baby!” I yelled to myself in the empty apartment as I began to feel the floor fall away beneath me as I started a crashing orgasm. I smeared the remaining shit remnants on my hand over my face as I came as I had never come before.
“Uh, uh, uh, unh, unh, unh…..fu-u-u-u-ck!” I moaned as the waves rushed over me and I arched my back as I hit the wall of a hundred mile-per-hour orgasm.
I rolled onto my back and just relaxed in post-orgasmic pleasure. I laid like that for some time, feeling a weird mix of sexual satisfaction and self-revulsion. I cried a little – not a lot, but a little – as my mind wrapped around what had just happened. Eventually, I got on hands and knees, then to my feet. I started walking to the bathroom, not caring about the trail I was leaving on the beige carpet. It was still early on a Sunday morning. I knew I would repeat this filthy encounter with myself before the day was even done. I knew I had to fill myself up to make an even bigger mess next time. “A shower, first.” I said to myself. “Then a big lunch.” I laughed to myself as I stepped into the shower. “You’re a dirty girl, Theresa.” I shouted beneath the powerful stream of the showerhead.