Toiletpostcii

Old Posts From The Toilet: Page 2271

ToiletStool.com 2271

* Home
* < Previous page: 2272
* |
* Next Page: 2270 >
* Random
* Survey
*
*
*
*

Rylee

Getting to know Emily (aka Autumn)

What follows is another narrative involving my best friend Autumn. I
first met her at the beginning of this school year, and we immediately
clicked. You might recall that it wasn’t until late January that I became
serendipitously involved in a “buddy dump” with this very special girl,
and while it was one of the most exhilarating and pleasurable moments of
my life, I had no way of knowing if she felt the same, or be receptive to
discussing it, or even if she shared my curious interest in this at all.
I also mentioned that “Autumn” was no her real name and that I conjured
it out of thin air to protect her privacy.

With that said…her real name is Emily. She also knows about this site,
and she knows that I have posted here about her, but I’m getting ahead of
myself…

Last weekend, she came over to my house around noon on Saturday and was
set to stay overnight until Sunday midday. She had lunch with us, and, I
swear, I must have a tapeworm; nothing seemed to satisfy me and I ended
up eating like a pig all day. We even ordered a large pizza, I ate most
of it, and an hour or two later, we were eating popcorn in my bedroom
while watching TV. Emily isn’t much of the type who likes playing makeup
or toenail-polish games, so we mostly jumped conversations right and
left, talking about everything from the show we were watching to school
to music to boys we liked and girls we couldn’t stand. And all the while,
I was cramming popcorn and soda down my gullet as though it would be
banned tomorrow. I was dimly aware that critical mass was being reached,
and although the need to shit wasn’t urgent, the need to fart was more
pressing. Have you ever had that feeling of lying on a bed with someone,
knowing you would have no problems with breaking wind if only you were
alone, yet if you stand up and leave the room to fart in private, the
need mysteriously passes? I discovered that dilemma when I went
downstairs to make the second super-tub of popcorn. While lying on the
bed, I could have easily passed enough gas to power a small hot-air
balloon, yet the whole time I was to myself, I could barely manage a
squeak.

“Dumb and Dumber” started playing when I got back with the popcorn, and
Emily was lying against a stack of pillows at the headboard. “God,” she
said, “remember that scene where the poor guy took turbo-lax and exploded
in the bathroom of that woman who played on NCIS?”

“I would die,” I replied, lying inverted next to her with my feet near
the headboard, resting on my stomach with my arms propping myself up
enough to see the TV. Several thoughts related to our experience in the
library over a month before started to cross my mind, but I was more
immediately distracted by the extreme pressure in my belly. Lying on my
stomach was probably a bad choice given my condition, so I grabbed a
couple of pillows and stuffed them under my head as I rolled onto my
back. By looking downward, I could see her face–despite my boobs being
in the way–and my bowels rumbled loudly as their contents shifted with a
gurgling and bubbling sound.

Emily raised her head, gawking at me. “God, Rylee, you’re still hungry?”

“Not quite,” I replied vaguely.

She went back to watching TV, and so did I. I careened myself and bent my
neck back to look over my shoulder, but it just wasn’t comfortable, so I
finally turned on my side, propping my head up with one arm while laying
the other arm along my side. My belly–what felt to be my colon–churned
loudly again as more of its content progressed along its transit, but
Emily didn’t notice, or at least pretended not to.

Suddenly, she sat up in the bed and asked if I wanted to play a game. We
would each take turns telling a secret about ourselves. There were no
limits on what could be said, and no judgment. We abandoned the movie,
and with a feeling of intrigue I lay back upon the pillows while she went
first. I found out a lot of things about my best friend that I never
knew: she has an IQ of 153, her favorite food is Indian, she’s writing a
book, and she often suffers from constipation and learned to belly dance
as a means of relieving it. I shared a few things about myself: I was a
Girl Scout since kindergarten, my favorite author is Mark Twain, I was
mercilessly bullied during all of middle school, and (since it was
getting hard to come up with material) I first made out with a boy when I
was in the sixth grade. When it came back to her, she said that while she
wasn’t positive, she believed she might be bisexual, and asked if that
bothered me. I told her that didn’t bother me at all, since she’s my best
friend, I love everything about her–which coaxed a warm smile out of
her, in turn leading me to give her a big hug.

My gut groaned viciously again after I pulled back from the hug, coupled
with the sensation of a sluggish wave of feces and gas traversing a
little further through my progressively swollen large
intestine…followed closely with reinforcements. I ignored it, instead
turning my concentration to one thing: how the hell I could possibly top
Emily’s last secret. Here she was baring a very secret part of herself to
me, and I was talking about some boy I made out with behind the stands at
a rodeo three years ago. I considered, and discarded, several ideas
before I found the showstopper had been staring me in the face in the
entire time. I looked at her numbly, closed my eyes, took a deep breath,
and told her, slowly and with some reservation, that I had an
extraordinary interest in pooping, mentioning that it is magnified if
people are present. “I like an audience,” I added.

“You’re an exhibitionist,” she replied. “Seeing too, or just hearing?”

“Hearing,” I replied, and quickly added, “actually, seeing too, I
guess…depending on the situation. It’s hard to say, I’m–”

“Still experimenting.”

“Yeah.”

It was her turn, and she flatly told me that she has a fiercely guarded
sense of privacy and doesn’t even allow her closest family members to see
her take a dump. I felt a flush of momentary sickness, as if someone had
let loose a batch of butterflies in my stomach, and the nape of my neck
became very hot. My brain kicked into overdrive, faced with the puzzle of
reconciling what she had just said with the events in the library
restroom…a chain of events that she herself had gone along with.
However, I decided to hear her out when I also remembered that my
experiences with Emily, so far, hinted that she is an extremely dynamic
and climactic individual who often feeds off reaction for a more dramatic
effect. I was right.

“But when you started farting up a storm that day,” she said, “I
dunno…mentioning that the two of us should go take a dump felt like the
most natural thing in the world. And after it was done, I couldn’t stop
thinking about it for weeks.” She smiled. “I guess you’re closer to me
than my own family.”

Throwing my pillows against the headboard, I repositioned myself and lay
next to her, smiling sweetly.

“Now Rylee, I don’t feel awkward about it at all,” she continued, “but
you and I know there are plenty of narrow-minded people at school, so I
think we should promise not to tell anybody else about this, or what
happened at the library. Deal?”

Panic. My gut exploded as another wave came and went, causing my abdomen
to tense instinctively, but I did my best to suppress it. That was in
turn caused by an intense feeling of sudden fear with what she had just
suggested, and I think she noticed it because she suddenly looked
alarmed. “Rylee?”

I may have audibly gulped. Starting slowly, I told her that while nobody
either of us personally knew had been told any of this, I had posted
about the experience on this website. She sat up and looked at me
quizzically.

“I kept you anonymous,” I reassured her.

She didn’t seem interested in that. “Wait a second…there’s a website
for this?”

Retrieving my laptop from beside the bed, I brought up the story about
her and me at the library for her to read. While reading it, she found
the name “Autumn” unflattering, laughed soundly when she reached the part
about my incessant farting, and teased me in a sultry tone when I wrote
how closely I had studied her “cream-colored cheeks.” When she got to the
part about our dumps, however, she was enthralled, and couldn’t stop
reading, eating up every word slowly as if to savor it. Finally, she
handed the laptop to me and said, “My God, Rylee, that was incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“You still blatantly invaded my privacy.”

I stared at her, speechless. She didn’t appear to be backing down,
either. While she did have a valid point–I had technically published a
story about her without her permission–I was still horrified at the
prospect that she might be genuinely upset. As I felt another massive
bulk move through my colon, I winced momentarily, as its contents forced
the deluge in the previous waves straight into my rectum. Critical mass
was acquired. “I’m sorry,” I finally managed, my voice shaky. “I won’t do
it again.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” she said. “You can post whatever you like
now that I know about it. But it’s a matter of principle.” She suddenly
broke her serious facade and slowly grinned shrewdly at me. “You owe me.”

I blinked. “What do you suggest?” I finally mumbled naively.

“Well…” she said, and stopped herself. Instead, she pointed to the door
that led from my room into the adjoining hallway bathroom. “And I get to
watch,” she finished, as I slowly panned my eyes from the bathroom door
to look at her with an expression of genuine shock. She merely nodded,
that same grin plastered on her face.

“Oh, come on!” I finally said after the initial shock over the
proposition had sunk in, “What even makes you think I even have to go
now?” And at that precise moment, my body betrayed my confidence as
another wave of shit descended into the bulge that was already encased by
my rectum and lower colon; given much longer, I could show Emily exactly
how much I had to go, right in that bed if necessary. The pressure was
intense and I actually arched my back a little and grunted in reaction. I
hadn’t taken a dump yet that day, and usually by this time I have done so
twice.

“Right, I guess the racket coming from your gut and the pain you’re in
don’t mean squat.” she replied, still smiling. “At any rate, let’s recap.
You ate almost all of the fruit on that tray your mom set out…a girl’s
gotta have her fiber, I guess…and then there was lunch. How many of
those bean burritos did you eat at lunch?”

“Five,” I grunted uncomfortably, wishing she hadn’t mentioned the
burritos.

“And you had about that many of the fajitas, I know that for a fact. That
wasn’t enough so you ate…how many bowls of Raisin Bran again?”

Bran…ugh. “Two bowls, Miss Smarty Pants.”

“Then you raided the fridge a couple of hours later and had eight
hard-boiled eggs. In a row. I remember because your mom said, ‘Rylee,
girl…I had eight in there and you ‘et every one of ’em? Don’t be so
piggish.’ ”

I giggled briefly in spite of my feigned demeanor and immediately stifled
it. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She knew exactly what she was doing, and she
wasn’t going to rest until she had pushed all of my buttons.

“Another bowl of Raisin Bran an hour later…”

“Two bowls,” I corrected. I had been really hungry.

“…followed by most of the pizza tonight, and most of two tubs of
popcorn. I’m surprised you haven’t already exploded. You’re a human time
bomb…and based on the rumbly in your ????, I’d say you’re set to go off
any minute now. So yeah,” she concluded sweetly, “I can wait. You can’t.”

She and I continued this silly banter for a few more minutes, and with
each suggestion on her part, I protested, citing discretion or
embarrassment…but inside, I was enraptured. My heart beat faster as I
considered the prospect, but Emily is so difficult to read that I think
we spent those few minutes feeling each other out to see if the other
were actually serious. Well, two can play at that game, I thought to
myself. If she really wants a show, I’ll give it to her. And with that
prospect, I was overwhelmed with a powerful sensation in my chest, the
final feeling of nervousness before one commits to a dare. I wouldn’t
have her sharing in this experience; this time, I was flying solo.
Finally, sighing deeply, I scooted off the bed and walked toward the door
to the bathroom. As I opened the door, I turned around to see her still
lying on the bed, watching me earnestly. “Well, come on,” I offered.

She bounced off the bed and followed me into the bathroom. It was a
typical bathroom layout: the toilet sat between the sink and the shower,
which was at the far end of the room. I closed and locked both the door
to my bedroom and to the hallway, and when I turned back around, I saw
Emily sitting on the corner seat in the shower. “I want to see it all!”
she said with delight.

“No!” I whispered loudly.

“Hey, there’s even space for your legs beside the toilet,” she continued,
ignoring me. “You can sit down sideways…that’d be quite a view.”

I walked defiantly over to her, and stood between the shower and the
toilet. I was wearing a short T-shirt and a pair of boyshorts, and I slid
them down to my thighs and sat sideways on the toilet so I was facing her.

Her eyes rolled. “Come on, come on, turn a-ROUND,” she said playfully.
“Let’s see those lovely cheeks.”

“You bitch,” I cracked back with a smirk. My heart racing wildly, I
slowly turned myself around on the toilet, facing away from her so she
had a direct view of my backside. “Happy now?” I asked, looking over my
shoulder at her.

“Much.”

“Wait a sec,” I said, hopping off the toilet. I stumbled into the bedroom
and returned a moment later with my phone, my shorts still down to my
thighs the entire time.

“Good Lord,” she said incredulously. “What, you can’t shit without Angry
Birds?”

I ignored her and assumed my original position, plopping my bared cheeks
proudly upon the seat in full display to her. It wasn’t a moment too
soon, since the pressure on my rectum was rendering my ability to further
contain it questionable, to say the least. I was checking my email while
I started the preparation stages to emptying my bowels, and although she
couldn’t see my face, I couldn’t stop grinning. I had gone from reserved
and shy earlier this year to an even newer level with my best
friend…and I was eating up every minute of it. Suddenly, breaking the
monotony of the background music to the game I was playing, I felt a
sharp, powerful cramp, involuntarily arched my back, and passed some
explosive wind that erupted into the bowl with a bass-line of discordant
farts, as if sounding an alarm of what was to follow. “Holy crap,” I
muttered, mostly to myself; although I was dimly aware Emily was probably
four feet behind me, I didn’t dwell on it. I felt the remaining bulk move
a little, as if it were filling the void left by that initial barrage. I
closed my eyes, mentally braced myself, and bore down. A small plug of a
turd–Emily said it was about four inches long–slid out effortlessly,
followed by another loud sequence of farts. “Gassy girl,” I heard her say
behind me with a giggle.

“Oh, shut up,” I muttered as I started work on what felt to be a more
massive turd. This one slid out a little at first, but immediately slowed
to an excruciatingly painful crawl. Gasping deeply and grunting heavily,
I gripped down again, my sphincter becoming stretched to obscene
proportions as it tried to give this monster a wide berth. I relaxed for
only a moment to catch my breath, and straining loudly, recommenced
applying pressure on this brick, but I kept short-circuiting myself since
it hurt like hell. “Ohhhhoww-ow-ow-ow…”

“Good God,” I heard Emily whisper.

I looked over my shoulder and managed, “How big is it?” in a very
strained tone, tears forming in my eyes. She reached her hand near to it
and gauged its width with her thumb and index finger. She raised her hand
so I could see; her digits were over two inches apart.

“Girls, you in there?”

I looked wide-eyed at Emily. “Damn, it’s my mother!” I whispered.

She started giggling quietly. “Tell her you’re droppin’ a deuce.”

“We’re trying makeup!” I cried loudly, followed with some softer
straining. The turd slid out a hair more and Emily whispered to me that
it was already about six inches long.

“Oh, okay, well, your father and I are going to bed.”

“Okay, Mom!” I managed…right as the turd broke in two. The bottom part
hit the water with a *splunk*. “Oh God,” I muttered, bending forward and
putting my hands over my face in horror. When I finally sat back up and
turned around to see Emily, she had her hand over her mouth and her face
was beet red–she was restraining herself from laughing so hard. The
remaining turd began to slide out a little easier, and if the best
indicator for future behavior is past behavior, a sonic boom of gas would
surely follow.

“Hon, don’t go outside, we’re turning the alarm on,” Mom said from
outside the door.

“Okay, Mom!” I repeated in desperation, trying to sound natural while
fighting against fate to keep from pinching this one too early.
Unfortunately for me, though, it was narrowing rapidly and developing a
looser consistency, which made it emerge out of me even faster despite my
best efforts.

“See you girls tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom, love you!” I cried in anguish just as the rest of the turd
shot out with a *floompf*. I whimpered silently, arching myself backwards
and clenching my cheeks in a pitiful attempt to keep the following volley
of wind at bay, which was a gruesome task since the backlog of pressure
felt like it was inflating my rectum and lower colon like a balloon.
However, I was soon met with the sound of sweet relief to my ears–the
sound of my mother’s footfalls as she went back downstairs.

“Wow,” Emily said, still choking back her laughter.

“Damned burritos,” I mumbled as I finally relaxed my grip and sputtered
another series of farts into the bowl. Suddenly, I was overcome with a
cramp, and before I could put my arms against my abdomen and lean
forward, I moaned, “Oh God,” and blasted out a very wet fart that
splattered into the bowl, accompanied by a rancid smell. Emily told me
later it actually looked like somebody had taken a spray bottle with
brown water and squirted it. I thought this might progress to full
diarrhea, but after a couple of farts more just like that one, I started
passing some loose turds again–about four or five more–with plenty of
farting between each. After I had thoroughly filled the bowl, I wiped
myself repeatedly until I felt clean, and then, completely surprising
even myself, I slid forward enough to cause my bum to rise a little, with
my cheeks still spread apart. “Hey, check it…does this look clean?”

She leaned forward enough to be able to see my hole. “Peachy,” she said.

I wiped once more for good measure and stood up, I thought it might clog
the toilet but it only took two flushes, and after all was said and done,
I walked slowly back into the bedroom and fell prostrate upon the bed.
Emily lay down next to me. After a moment, I turned my head toward her,
she looked down at me, and we both smiled–my smile probably a little
more wan than normal from exhaustion.

We spent the next few hours lying on the bed, talking about our shared
experiences while she watched TV and I got on the laptop to set out to
write all this down (with her help). However, most of our time we just
talked, about anything and everything, getting to know each other even
more than we already did, and celebrating in our newly discovered and
confirmed mutual interest. Here’s to hoping for many more
experiences…and happy pooping everyone!

Love, Rylee (and Emily too)

===========================================================================

rock

In trouble help!

The other day I started to take a huge shit, but this time it was so big
and hard, like rock hard, that I almost passed out . Before I would have
passed out from the sudden pain, I reached up and broke off some pieces
with my bare hands. It was very dry as my fingers were covered in
shit-like dust, not gooey shit. I thought I got it all of the rock hard
ones, but I apparently left a little left in there, as now I have a huge
cork of shit stopping up my asshole. I’m wondering what to do. There is
no way I can do it if it stays as is, and I can’t do it enough to grab it
like last time. I’d prefer not an enema, since I don’t know if that works
at the very end of the colon or not for dissolving rock hard shit. I
thought of taking a stool softener but not sure if those work for this
problem or not either. I believe the other shit up there is normal, just
a single large rock up there.

===========================================================================

Annie

Last night’s poop clogged the toilet

I managed to poop last night after almost a week. It hurt to push out and
I felt it stretching my hole. Well it was big alright and really thick.
So thick it clogged the toilet (again). My husband had to plunge the
toilet before he could poop. Whoops!

===========================================================================

Friday, March 15, 2013

===========================================================================

tawnie

reply to jasmine k

Hey girl well im glad your takin my advice and try to dig the poop out
your selves well if u need help on how to dig your selfs ok if u need
help n need the position i do : i usally sit on the toilet with my pants
off or around my ankels n i spread my legs relly wide i then go inbetween
my legs with some tp or my fingers n i dig my poop out that way usally
works for me i have my face usall stunch up my face n get all red n when
i dig it out it makes a relly loud massive plop or ka plunk
So hope this position relly works let me kno how it works out for u thanks
…tawnie….

===========================================================================

John on the John

TYLER’S SURVEY

I can’t find the original questionnaire, but have taken the questions
from BrentC

(1) From this moment; when was your last BM. Was it “normal”? Yes, it was
normal for me – half an hour ago. I’d had some cereal and a cup of strong
coffee, and looked at my emails. I know myself well enough to know when
the urge gets stronger, the precise time to go. Trousers down to ankles,
bottom down to seat, plop-plop-plop. All done in a minute.
Wipe-wipe-wipe. Get into shower, wash hair and body, including my rear
orifice.

(2) Typically….are you “regular”? Yes.

(3) Have you ever had an enema, suppository or laxative? Very
occasionally, a laxative, but, as with Imodium, I avoid when possible.

(4) Over your life….has a parent ever questioned you about your
BM’s….or asked you not to flush so they could be observed? Not since I
was very small and grown-ups had to take me.

(5) If you miss a day or two…I look about once a week to see that the
colour is healthy, and more often I do look at toilet paper. several
times a week. to see if there is any blood

(6) Do you typically think about your BM’s? ie: Do you keep track of
them…..work at “trying” if you notice you haven’t gone for a
while….or is it just natural and “let nature take care of it”?
Occasionally, I have to ‘break it off’ with my hands. If I miss a day, it
worries me, but it’s often because I haven’t had enough fibre, fruit and
vegetables. If I have had to leave the house earlier than my usual time
to ‘drop trou’, I the urge and the opportunity don’t always coincide, and
I might miss a day then.

(7) Other than the actual “urge” you feel just prior to evacuation….can
you feel your bowels at all? If you miss a few days…do you feel “full”
or uncomfortable in any way? I don’t feel uncomfortable physically, but I
do psychologically.

Fortunately, I don’t look upon it as a chore, but a very enjoyable
activity.

===========================================================================

John H

some comments,a story and a question

Hey all.
I said I was going to share a story in my last post so here it is, but
first some comments.

@Ranger. I pee in the shower at home all the time but have never done it
in a public shower. I would be afraid of other people watching and
disapproving, which I suppose is understandable given that it’s a public
shower that has to be shared with other people. That said I’m sure there
are many people that do it and the water washes all the pee away so maybe
peeing in a public shower is not that big of a deal after all.

@Kristina, I enjoyed your first post. It was very well written and I hope
you will share more stories with us. When I was younger I used to line my
underwear with toilet paper and push a poop out as I squatted on the
bathroom floor. Then I would dump it in the toilet and clean up.
I haven’t done this in a long time but I remember enjoying the feeling of
the poop spreading out between my cheeks and the warmth of it as it came
out.

It was good that you made it inside your house so that no one saw and it
was nice of your husband to be so helpful and understanding.

@Imogen, Hey and thanks for answering my questions. I too love this site
for the same reasons as you.
When it comes to holding I am afraid that I am not that good at it. The
most I have ever managed was just over three days. I wrote a post about
that experience here but I can’t remember what page it was on. I will
find out and let you know so you can read it if you want.
The reason I can’t hold it is I find that after a while the urge just
gets to strong. How do you cope with this when that happens to you?
Thanks for the dedication and I am looking forward to reading your next
story. The story below is the one I talked about in my last reply to you
re pooping a little bit in my pants a few days ago.
Not the most pleasant experience but hope you enjoy reading it.
Take care.

@Anonymous Guy, Hey just a shout out to you if you still visit the site.
I haven’t seen a post from you in a while but I am guessing that you are
busy with college work so that’s most likely why you haven’t been posting.

Now for my story.
A few nights ago I was out drinking with my girlfriend and two of our
friends. We had a good night and several drinks were had.
On the way back to my friends house we stopped to get some food but I
didn’t want any as I could feel something building up and I didn’t want
to add food to the mix.
As we got near my friends I eased out some farts to help relieve some of
the pressure and I felt better as I knew I could use the toilet as soon
as I got inside.

Just before we got to my friends door I let out another fart and suddenly
felt wetness spread between my cheeks.
I clenched my ass together to prevent the soft poop reaching my boxers. I
could feel it between my cheeks as I walked.

When we got inside I went to the toilet and dropped my trousers and
boxers.
Thankfully the poop hadn’t got on my boxers so I relaxed and let out a
few rounds of soft poop and farts.
My ass was very messy from all the poop and it was then that I found
there was no toilet paper to clean up with.
Pulling my trousers up wasn’t an option as that would have led to a very
messy situation so I had to think of something.

I decided to take one of the empty cardboard roles that was on the floor
which had no toilet paper left on it.
I ripped it up into four sections and used them to wipe myself.
It felt very strange and I had to be careful not to get any poop on my
fingers but I managed it.
Then I looked in my trouser pocket to see if there was anything else I
could use and luckily I found an old tissue that was crumpled up but it
was better than nothing.
I flushed the toilet and was afraid the cardboard wouldn’t go down but it
did.
I washed my hands and returned to the living room.

Hope this post wasn’t too long.
Has anyone else had to do something like this?

That’s all for now.
Take care all,

John H

===========================================================================

Brandon T

comments & stuff

To: Veronika first welcome to the site and great story about you pooping
in that barn it sounds like you really had to go alot to and I bet you
felt pretty great afterwards and your poop will make good fertilizer to
and please post anymore stories you may have thanks.

To: I.L. great story it sounds like you had a really good cleanout thanks
to your moms help I bet you felt really great afterwards to finally have
all that poop out of you and really thankful to your mom for helping you
and I look forward to your next post thanks.

To: Big Girl great story it sounds like you had a good poop.

To: Antonia great story it sounds like you and your girlfriend both
really had to poop and it sounds like you both felt pretty great
afterwards maybe you guys can try buddy dumping by both sitting on the
toilet at the same time one in front of the other it may bring you both
closer together and I look forward to your next post thanks.

To: jJasmin K great story im glad you and your sister are able to poop
somewhat normal now and I look forward to your next post thanks.

To: Danielle first welcome to the site and great story it sounds like you
had a rough night at least your brother handled well not making fun of
you and accidents can happen to anyone and please post anymore stories
you may have thanks.

To: Alli first welcome to the site and great story it sounds like you had
a really rough night and luckily nobody saw it happen and please post
anymore stories you may have thanks.

To: Kristina great story it sounds like your husband was really helpful
and caring to which is really good and it sounds like you had fun with
having accidents on purpose and please post anymore stories you may have
thanks.

To: Abbie as always another great story it sounds like you and a few
other girls and all really had to poop and I bet you all felt pretty
great afterwards to and as always I look forward to your next post thanks.

To: Desperate To Poop as always another great story it sounds like you
had a really good to stage cleanout I bet you felt pretty great after you
were finaly done and as always I look forward to your next post thanks.

Well thats all for now.

Sincerly Brandon T

PS. I love this site

===========================================================================

Next page: Old Posts page 2270 >

<Previous page: 2272
Back to the Toilet
ToiletStool.com, “Boldly bringing .com to your bodily functions.” Go to
Page…        Survey