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 The London "Aiiieee!"Posted 08.17.2007 by Hamster (581)
One sunny April morning in London, in the company of a female colleague, I left my hotel to travel by Tube to the venue of a conference I was running. I can't remember exactly how long it had been since I'd last had a dump, but I guess it had been at least three days. Walking to the Tube station, I had the feelings of heaviness and fullness that told me a big one was brewing. (I should explain that my bowels are normally extremely well-behaved -- almost certainly as a result of my Shameful days. Firstly, they always seem to know when they are close to a place of relief, and I rarely get a desperate urge when there is nowhere to go. Secondly, my powers of "holding on" are almost legendary.)
On this morning, whilst standing on the Tube, the heaviness and fullness developed into a deep ache in my guts that lasted several minutes, followed by an intense pain as the monster started to move. This was unusual, but there was no immediate problem, as no full-on urge ensued. When we got off the Tube we had at least a half-mile to walk, but I was relatively unconcerned. And indeed, all started well. I could feel the walking moving things on a bit, and while the urge started to come, it was still quite manageable. I simply clenched my cheeks whilst walking. Fortunately my colleague was not a fast walker. Then, completely out of the blue, and only about a hundred yards away from our destination, the full force hit. I just dropped my bags, stood stock still in the middle of the pavement, and clenched my cheeks as hard as I could. Sadly, being a man, I couldn't even use the poop zombie tactic (in which a lady assiduously whips out her pocket mirror and studies her make-up). I just stared at the pavement with glazed expression, a few beads of sweat on my lip and forehead. My colleague stopped and looked at me with concern. "Are you all right?" she asked. Looking back, I wasn't as embarrassed I'd have expected, perhaps because there were more pressing things on my mind. "I'm dying for the toilet," I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Oh," she said, starting to giggle. "Sorry! Will you make it?" I reassured her that I'd be okay in a minute. Slowly the urge indeed receded, and I was able to carry on. We arrived at our venue and made for the cloakrooms to deposit our bags. There were a couple of people in front of us; and as we waited, the urge came back with a vengeance. I clenched up again. My colleague looked at me with concern -- I don't think she had as much confidence in my sphincter as I had. "I'll deal with the bags," she said. "You go!" I waited for the urge to recede again, and then gratefully accepted her offer and made my way to the men's room. I went straight into the nearest stall and removed my jacket. And even as I was taking down my trousers, the urge started to return. Slowly at first, the turtle's head came out, and then stopped. A little push was necessary to help it on its way. I pushed and grunted, and felt it start to move again -- slowly at first, and then a massive urge overwhelmed me and what felt like a huge log simply shot out of my arsehole. The relief was almost orgasmic, and it caused me to groan and sigh with pleasure. I expelled a couple more smaller turds, and then looked around to survey the results. There was a huge thick turd of -- at a guess -- somewhere around fifteen inches by at least two inches. It was half in and half out of the water, with a couple of its little babies floating around it. After wiping, I flushed optimistically. No chance. Only the smaller turds disappeared. I attacked the monster with the toilet brush handle and flushed again. This time, most of the shit disappeared, but it was still protruding from the bend. I poked at it again, but feared I might actually be making the blockage worse. This was confirmed when a further flush caused the water to rise. Fearing a flood, I gave up and left as quickly as I could. I returned to my colleague, who asked me sweetly if I felt better, and then suggested I that in the future, I go before I come out. I pulled a suitable face. Later in the day, returning for a pee, I saw an "out of order" notice on the stall door where the crime had taken place. I felt suitably guilty. Post new comment
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