Desperation/Shart/Accident Stories

[Forrest]

It's gone really quiet here lately, so I want to start a thread where everyone can share poop-related stories about their wives, girlfriends, friends, teachers, mums, aunts, sisters etc.
Whether it is just about desperation, a shart/accident story or even a story about skidmarks in thongs/panties like in another thread doesn't matter.


Here's my first contribution:

Last week, a good friend of mine who works as a freelance photographer was in town for a job. She had asked me whether she could stay at my place for the night as she didn't want to spend money on a hotel room.
Before she had to leave for her job we had some pizza and beer for dinner at my appartment, talked and laughed about this and that. About 15 minutes after we had finished our pizzas she somehow became more quiet and touched her stomach every now and then. She tried to act as normal as possible, but it was obvious for me that she wasn't her usual bubbly self anymore. It then seemed to get worse by the minute. She was sitting on my sofa with a hand pressed on her stomach and had a pained expression on her face while still talking to me. I was sure that she must have an upset stomach, but so far she hadn't said anything, even more tried to disguise it.
A few minutes later she bent down to her knees for a few seconds with a face that undoubtedly showed pain and she finally said that she thinks that the pizza and/or the beer didn't agree with her stomach. She was stealing glances at my toilet, yet hadn't gotten up from the sofa or made any effort to use it. My appartment is very small and the bathroom is right next to the living room, so I assumed she was just too embarrassed and tried to avoid using it by all means.
I then went to the kitchen to get some water for her and when I got back she was practically squirming on my sofa. She eventually got up with a very embarrassed look on her face and made her way to the bathroom slightly hunched down. That way her cute little butt stuck out and I couldn't stop looking at it in those tight grey jeans. "I...errhm...I'm really sorry that I have to use your bathroom now..", she said with a red face. Her face growing even redder, she added: "Do you think you could maybe turn on the TV or something....??". I did, however, I could still hear her fumbling hurriedly with her clothes in the bathroom followed by one of the loudest farts I ever heard from a female and an immediate flush to disguise further sounds. Although she tried to be as quiet as possible I heard some more wet farts and splashes.
After about 10 minutes she came out looking as embarrassed as before. We then sat on the couch and watched the news. I could still hear her stomach gurgling and a few minutes later she went to the toilet once again.
Afterwards she left for her job although she was really worried because she said that she wasn't sure whether she could go to the toilet anytime if she needed to. Later she texted me that her stomach was still upset and that she wasn't gonna stay over and would drive home instead.
After she was gone I was lying on my sofa and noticed the smell of her perfume mixed with a slight smell of poop where she sat. I don't think she shit some in her pants, but maybe she wasn't wearing panties and/or just didn't wipe herself well enough...

[Forrest]

Friend's sister

Next story:

When I was 14 I went on holidays with a friend of mine and his family. He had a younger brother and an older sister who was 17 at the time.
One day after we had a barbecue my friend and I were sitting outside with his sister playing board games and stuff. My friend and I then started having a farting contest and were constantly laughing about it. After a while his sister was so annoyed that she stopped playing and went inside the house.
She eventually came out again and we resumed playing, however, our contest wasn't over yet. She then got up from her chair in her white cotton shorts, went over to my brother and with her butt directly facing him let out a "Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrpppppschschsch....". At first I almost didn't realize what was happening because I was just too astonished that a pretty 17-year-old girl could let out such a fart. But while I was thinking about it his sister ran into the house with one hand on her butt while my friend almost collapsed on his chair laughing..."She...she...she shit herself!!!!", was all he could say pointing in the direction of the house. It couldn't be true. We then ran after her into the house and could already hear her shouting. She stood dancing in front of the bathroom door talking to her mother who was obviously occupying the bathroom. When she saw us, she froze and I could see that she almost had tears in her eyes.
"Sara shit her pants!!!", my friend shouted in the direction of the bathroom while still laughing.
"Nooo, I didn't....fuck off!", she protested."
"Let me see your butt!", he demanded.
Sara was still standing with one hand placed on her butt and the way she stood really looked as if she had pooped herself.
"Nooo!!! Why should I show you my butt, get the fuck off!!!"
"Come on, let's tickle her!", he said to me.

So we grabbed her and started tickling, but she was kicking us hard and struggling to get away from us. She then fell to the ground and each one of us grabbed one of her legs and pulled them to the side. And although she still tried to cover her ass and crotch with her hands we could now clearly see a wet and slightly brown stain about the size of an apple on her white shorts. As soon as my friend saw it he once again started laughing uncontrollably. Then the door opened and his mother came out while his sister ran in as quickly as possible. My friend told his mother what happened, but she refused to believe that her 17-year-old daughter had just sharted in her pants in front of her little brother and his friend...

[Adrian6970]

When it came to the development of my already latent interest in poos, my much loved Aunt Anne played a significant part, probably more so that she at first realised. Just to give you a little bit of context, Aunt Anne isn't a blood relative. My late Uncle Alan (my father's brother) met her at teacher training college during the 1950s when he was 23 and she was 20. They married four and a half years later in 1957 and remained together until Uncle died in 2008, having brought up four children and seen another four grandchildren put in an appearance. She's mellowed a lot over the years but Aunt Anne's a characterful lady with a slightly bossy streak and a strange sense of humour which didn't endear her much to either of my grandmothers or my mother, all of whom had fairly proper, conventional ideas of what a woman should be and how she should behave. Although Aunt Anne's faults were more ones of immaturity than any kind of nastiness (of which she's incapable) some of her sufferings were self inflicted, even though family politics dictated that she was judged a little more harshy than she deserved. As a young man I was by no means blameless in that regard but I soon realised that she was a lady who above all else knew how to love and be loved.

Anyhow to get to the main story. It was a Sunday morning one summer many years ago. Arriving home late morning I found Aunt Anne sitting in my parents' kitchen talking to my maternal grandmother and, presently, my my mother. Uncle Alan, Auntie Anne and my cousins, always stayed with my paternal grandmother in her cottage across the road when they visited. However on this occasion Aunt Anne had slipped the leash and left my Uncle and his mother in charge of the kids and come over for a chat. My mother and maternal grandmother were marginally more tolerant of her than my paternal grandmother who made no secret of her dislike for her daughter-in-law, so I guess Aunt Anne can't be blamed for taking that bit of time out.

After a while my Aunt Anne broke wind and at first I thought that's all it was so I popped to the outside loo for a pee. When I returned to the kitchen a minute or so later I noticed that she was still farting and it was getting smelly. It didn't take long for me to realise that Aunt Anne needed to go for a poo and quite badly at that. I was too polite (and in awe of her) to say anything about it and so were the others present. It's amazing how certain adults can do things unchallenged over which young people would certainly be reprimanded isn't it? Anyhow Aunt Anne carried on doing smelly farts. As time passed by she was letting off nineteen to the dozen whilst remaining as cool as a cucumber from the waist upwards. The smell and noises coming from under her skirt were powerful to say the least. Luckily it was more the 'stewed veg' variety than the 'rotten egg' one. It must have gone for between twenty minutes and half an hour, during which Aunt Anne became increasingly smelly and desperate as she chatted away, seemingly unfazed by the state of her bowels. I remember half hoping she'd poo herself and half hoping she wouldn't. Just as I thought Aunt Anne was about to mess herself she got up, said "Excuse me," and hurried to the outside toilet which, luckily for her, wasn't too far away. As luck would have it, she did manage to get to the loo in time and, barely making it, narrowly avoided an accident. Whilst she was in the loo my late grandmother, who wasn't one of Anne's greatest fans, ventured the opinion that she "didn't go as often as she should" - a sentiment with which my mother readily agreed. Although justified by the circumstances at the time, whether that comment was warranted as a matter of fact is, of course, open to debate. Maybe it's not altogether fanciful to suggest that had she been in her own home Aunt Anne might not even have bothered to use the toilet and just done it in her knickers. I think the truth of the matter is that she'd probably not moved her bowels for three or four days at the time and they'd simply got backed up and overfull. One has to remember that she was a busy mum of four as well as a primary school teacher, so she was probably more focused on making sure that other, people than herself 'went' than making sure she did. Since then I've often wondered what it would have been like if she'd left it a moment too long and messed herself. It was certainly a close run thing though. Another thirty seconds would, I’m sure, have made a big difference. The thought certainly provided me with plenty of masturbatory material over the years and inspired the writing of much fiction. I'm very fond of Aunt Anne though, and this recollection is in no way a criticism of her.