Posted by writer on September 12, 2000 at 00:28
Heather had gotten into my car for a ride to a dance in town. She was wearing an unusual pink dress, fairly short, about mid thigh, with a tight upper part that showed of her full breasts nicely, and even gave a bit of cleavage, and a flared lower part, that showed off her legs nicely. Layers of lacy petticoats meant when she walked or moved, the whole thing rustled and bounced about. White stockings and white high heeled pumps completed the picture. I was just giving her a ride as a favor to her mom, who worked with my mom...it was complex I guess but I know for sure it was not a setup, as my Mom disliked Heather and Heather’s mom despised me. We had dated once, years ago, against all our parents’ advice and better judgment, and had discovered, son of a gun, they were right. After a couple months of being at each other’s throats, we had called it off. It would be overstating things to say we remained friends; aware that the other still was alive and not necessarily pleased about that fact was more like it.
“Dang, what sort of a getup is that supposed to be?” I asked as soon as she got into the car.
“Square dancing,” she said, clipping her words.
“Square dancing,” I said.
“Look, just drive the stupid car, okay? I had a rotten time, and I don’t feel well. I just want to get home and get out of this stupid outfit and go to bed.”
“Sheesh! Okay, you don’t have to bite my fool head off.”
“I’m just gonna close my eyes. I feel sort of sick.”
“Well don’t go puking in my car. I just put new carpeting down last week and shampooed the seats.” She didn’t say anything. “I thought you wore bandanas and cowboy boots for square dancing.”
“Well, I wear this. Please be quiet.”
“You let me know if you’re gonna puke, so I can kick you outta the car. Treat me good and I might stop the car first...”
She gave no response, so I figured she really was feeling sick, and just started driving home. It was about a two hour drive, so I figured I’d have plenty of time to hassle her later.
About forty five minutes into the drive she woke up. “Where are we?” she asked, sounding really miserable.
“About halfway. Not quite.”
She sat bolt upright and looked out the window at the flat, treeless landscape unrolling past her window. She rubbed her eyes.
“You feeling okay?”
“I don’t really feel that bad, I just have to go to the bathroom.”
“But you’re not gonna puke?”
“I’m not gonna puke. I can’t remember, are there any bathrooms along the way?”
“How many hundreds of times have you gone this way?”
“Joe, don’t be cruel to me, are there any toilets or not?”
“Um, that was actually the long version of saying I don’t know either. You can’t wait ‘till we get home?”
“No way!”
“Um, I cannot think of anywhere off the top of my head. I guess I could resist the urge to see your butt if you want to just squat next to the car.”
“You’ve seen my butt before, but not like this.” I looked at her. “I have to poop,” she said quietly.
“Oh.”
“Naturally, you cleaned your car up so there’s no paper towels or old napkins I could use.”
“Aw, hell, Heather, I tell you what, this is an old shirt, you could tear it up and use it for toilet paper...”
“You’re willing to give me the shirt off your back to use for toilet paper? I’m touched!”
“Well, check it out, you’re probably wearing a hundred bucks worth of dress and slips, not to mention my FRESHLY CLEANED CAR SEATS, I get a chilly belly and keep all the rest of it clean. Five year old shirt with holes in it, who comes out ahead?”
“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but I really don’t know if I could do that. I’ve never, you know, gone to the bathroom outside before.”
“Never?”
“I peed a few times, oh, well, I mean like squatting down or something. I went in my pants a few times outside. Oh God! It really hurts, I don’t know if I can hold it...” She went red in the face and grunted a few times. She suddenly shifted around a little with a great rustling of petticoats and stockings, and a putrid stench filled the car.
“Gees, Heather!”
She rolled down her window quickly. “Sorry, it just slipped out. I don’t think anything came out, just, you know, smell...”
“You farted, little girl. You farted big time! All your square dancing buds know you fart like that?”
She stifled a giggle, then groaned. “You better find a place to stop pretty quick Joe, I’m having to hold it back. It really wants to come out.”
“Okay, okay.” I looked for a wide spot to pull over off the heavily traveled highway. I saw a wide shoulder ahead, and flipped on my signal and slowed down.
“Why are you slowing down Joe? Don’t slow down, oh God, hurry up!” She was clutching at her belly.
I whipped the car off the road in a cloud of dust, and turned it so the car would block her from sight of passing cars. She was fumbling with her seat belt and opening her door even before I got the car completely stopped. I realized I was about to lose my shirt as she got out of the car, and heard her rustling and struggling with her skirt and slips trying to get them all out of the way. Suddenly she howled in frustration.
“Joe! I can’t get my panties off. Oh no, I’m nearly pooping and I can’t get my panties down...Help me Joe, get over here and help me with my panties!”
Not exactly the sort of thing you hear every day. I jumped out of the car and ran around to her side. She was turned facing me, skirt and slips held up to her thighs as she stomped her high heeled feet back and forth in the dusty gravel. Her face was contorted in a desperate snarl as she clutched her belly and turned around.
I nearly started laughing when I saw her panties. These were something different, shimmery white satin full cut briefs, with lacy strips across the seat of them. “Whoa, wild undies Heather!”
“Hurry!” she said in a strangled voice, grinding her thighs together. “I can’t hold it...”
I figured out the problem easily enough; but I was a little reluctant to remedy it immediately. She was wearing a garter belt to hold up her white stockings, with the garters and the belt worn over her panties. Probably not a problem if she was wearing skimpier panties, but the waistband of these panties extended well up underneath her garter belt and without removing the garter belt, which was fastened in the back with a series of steel hooks and loops, her panties weren’t going anywhere. The whole thing, her tanned slender thighs contrasting between her white stockings and panties, the desperate jiggling of her clenched buttocks beneath her shimmering white briefs, gently wedged between her soft butt cheeks, her quiet whimpering as she struggled to hold back the desperate mess that threatened her pristine white panties, it was all quite a turn on, oddly.
“I gotta undo your belt thing,” I said, hoisting her skirt and petticoat a little higher. “Hold these,” I said, handing the bunched up cloth to her as she struggled.
“Hurry...” she said, and released a very long, wet sounding fart.
“Christ, Heather!”
“I’m about to do a lot worse,” she said. “I think I dirtied my panties a little...”
“They look fine from here,” I said. “God, what you been eating girl?”
“Just get me unhooked before I poop in my panties!”
“Okay, okay, hold on...” I started working on the fastener holding her garter belt, but I never was any good at that sort of thing.
“What are you doing Joe? Hurry up!”
“I’m sorry, it’s just...what sort of underwear is this anyhow?”
“It’s a garter belt.”
“No, the panties.”
“Well, my skirt flies up when I’m dancing; you wear panties like this so when they show, well, they’re supposed to show. They’re called rumba panties...”
“With the stockings and garters? Sounds like burlesque to me. This thing is stuck, little girl.”
“Joe...” Another wet sounding fart, and her butt cheeks quivered. This time there was no doubt from the sound she was starting to poop. “Oh, no,” she whimpered, and quit squirming and spread her legs a little. “I can’t hold it in...”
I had a ring side view, so to speak, as the double fabric crotch of her panties suddenly puffed away from her pussy and began to leak golden liquid. Presently streams of pee were running down her stocking clad legs, leaving streaks against the white nylon, puddling in her shoes and spilling into the dry dust at her feet.
“I thought you had to shit...”
Just as the wetness began to spread up across her butt, she released a wet, raspy sounding mess that was no longer gas. I stepped back a little as her panties first pushed out from where they had been between her bottom cheeks, then another wet sound and her panties swelled out away from her bottom and a shadow appeared at the seat of her panties. Presently the wet poop soaked through the thin fabric, showing the degree of soiling that had occurred. Heather grunted, and peed some more, this time sending brown tinted streaks down her white nylon clad legs and into her shoes, and she pooped some more. This seemed more solid, and just made the seat of her panties sag more. The tight fitting elastic legbands of her panties held it all in place firmly.
“Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry...” she said, gently reaching around behind her with a handful of pink painted fingernails to touch her bottom gently. I was standing back a little watching in shock as she let her dress drop back into place. “Ooh, I pooped my panties...I couldn’t hold it back anymore and I peed and pooped in my panties, my pretty little white silky panties, they’re so wet and filled with poop...” She pulled her dress tight against her butt and pressed the load in her panties around with it. In spite of the numerous layers of petticoats and the darker color of her dress, the wet mess soaked through almost instantly, creating a wet brown stain on her butt.
She turned around and looked at me. She had sweated through her dress at her chest, and her pretty blonde hair was limp now and her makeup was starting to fade...I don’t think I have ever seen a more beautiful sight.
“Looking pretty hot there ‘Heather’,” I said.
“I feel hot,” she said, and it was off to the races as she flung herself on me. WE kissed passionately for a moment, then she pulled my shirt off over my head and squatted down in front of me, unbuttoning my jeans. My cock was plenty hard already as she pried it from my pants and applied her lips. It was more than I could take, the image of her desperate struggle and eventual loss of control, her pretty white panties filled with wet shit, the brown mess running down her legs... She sat on the edge of the car seat and began giving me a blow job in earnest, deep throating all ten inches of my meat. As soon as she felt me starting to cum she spit me out and used both her tiny hands to stroke me to a shuddering, pulsing climax, blowing great wads of cum onto her face, chest and hair. “Pee on me,” she whispered as I started to go soft a little. I tried as best I could, and managed to squirt out a fair amount into her face, washing off some of the gobs of cum and soaking the tight bodice of her dress. Having peed, but still looking at her, I got hard again. She gave me a very coy look, and wrapped a handful of her soft blonde hair around my cock and stroked it gently.
“What sort of man are you?” she whispered, batting her eyes. “Man enough to take a poopy pants girl like me? I can’t even control myself from messing my panties, can you fuck me like this?”
I grabbed her roughly by the arm and stood her up. Bent her across the hood of my car and yanked her dress roughly up over her ass. Poop was now wetly smeared down both her legs, between her thighs and up her butt, on the outside as well as inside of her panties. She was panting with desire now. Tenderness aside, I yanked her panties down from beneath her garter belt, getting a shit covered hand for my troubles, which I wiped off on a dry part of her dress. She was one messy girl; I grabbed another clean part of her dress and wiped her butt roughly with the stiffly starched petticoats, enough to uncover her butt and pussy a little from the wet coating of shit all over them. She squealed and squeaked as I slammed into her, ram rodding her with my hard on until I was nearly lifting her off the ground with my thrusts, rocking the car back and forth as I fucked her mercilessly. I felt her starting to come and slowed down a little, teasing her. As I had already shot off I could last as long as I wanted now. Soon she howled in pleasure as I slammed her against the side of the car. I was just getting my second wind, so I gave her a moment to recover, then fucked her again, harder this time until we both came for the second time.
I was spent now. I had wet shit and cum smearing my belly and legs from my intimate contact with her. She was soiled and wet damn near head to toe. I wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep...
“Did you lock the gate?” she asked suddenly.
“I think so...”
“Carl! We’re both covered in shit. Do you want the Jehovah’s Witnesses or someone driving back here when we’re like this?”
“Oh...” I pulled her soiled panties back up over the pert round bottom I loved so, and hoisted my beautiful thirty two year wife in my arms and kissed her on the lips, ignoring the fact that they were likely covered in my own personal pee and cum. “Let’s hit the showers,” I said, carrying her back to the house...
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