I was vegan for three years, and then I started dating my fiancé. My fiancé worships meat, so for his birthday I took him to a Brazilian barbecue restaurant that serves all you can eat gourmet meat.
I got all dressed up sexy-time and originally decided not to wear any underwear so I wouldn't show a panty line through my skirt, but then, upon second thought, I decided to put on an ultra-sexy pair of purple boy briefs. It was his birthday, and I wanted to surprise him after dinner.
We met up with his friends at the restaurant, and the binging began! Everyone was eating all these delicious meats, and there I was--nibbling on a salad with Sprite.
Fuck it, I thought, and gave into my temptations! After three years of abstinence, I ate and ate meat, and God was it ever sooo good.
Suddenly, a hot, clammy, chill overcame me. My tongue was glad about the present meat situation, but my gut was not, and this was a problem; I absolutely hate pooping in public restrooms. In fact, I’m terrified to do it. I have OCD.
Sensing the sudden state of emergency I was in, I asked my fiancé to ride home with his friends, and with a sweaty brow I nervously hiked to my car, pinching the whole way. I arrived home about ten minutes later. Oh my god, my ass was going to explode. My whole intestine was going to come out of my ass.
I had to hurry from parking on the street to my apartment, so I pinched it in and hiked the block, waddling the whole way and muttering prayers I haven't said since my first communion.
When I got to the door of my apartment, to my horror I realized that while I had my car keys, I'd left my house keys in the car. Back down the stairs I went, and down the block, to get those keys. Again, but this time with the right keys, I began waddling back to apartment.
Then, it happened. I wasn't going to make it back to the apartment. There on the street I shit my panties. At first it felt like a little shart, so I pressed on. There was only half a block left to waddle, and I could make it, I could. I knew I could. But no, my body was stronger than my brain. Luckily, I had those purple panties to hold it in.
I now know for a fact it's possible to shit while you walk. There was a certain relief when I finally let go. Thank the Virgin Mother that I had put those sexy panties on, because they saved me from dropping my load onto the cement.
I went back upstairs and entered my apartment, where my cat chased me down the hall, seeking solace I couldn't provide. As I dropped my panties to sit on the john, the biggest, roundest, and meatiest turd I have ever seen rolled onto the bathroom linoleum. It looked just like a baseball.
My cat sniffed it and ran away.
I stared at it for the next thirty minutes as its cousins, the Davids to this turd's Goliath, plopped from my bowels into the bowl below. When I finished, I wrapped that fucker up like a mummy. I saved it until my fiancé got home just to show him--because I knew no one would ever, ever believe me.
He was awed by its might and glory, even though it had dried up and its Ka now was with Anubis, sailing the briny Sea of the Dead. It was the best birthday panty surprise he ever had been given.
