How to shit your pants in style

A little background is necessary first. Back in October I had a brief fling with one of the heads of a different department. This lady isn’t technically my boss, but she could fire me on the spot if she wanted to since she’s above me in the chain of command. Our company is a little stupid like that. Anyway, we were talking in the elevator one day and hit it off. We went out to dinner a few times, found out we were very similar in a lot of ways. We were both democrats, liked the same kind of movies, neither of us liked to read, you get the idea. So on the third date we go back to her place and shit gets a little heavy. Long story short, I’m about to blow my load.

I tell her this and she demands, not asking, telling, or suggesting, demands that I shoot in her mouth. I’m not against that on principle or anything, but I think it’s a little weird. I mean she acted like my jizz could cure leprosy or something. But I did it, and she liked it. And afterwards, when I had to take my afterpiss, I went into the bathroom, and she stormed in there with a bowl and she demands, not asking, telling, or suggesting, that I piss into it. I obliged again, and she took the bowl out of the room and went away with it. I got out of there right then, just ran right out the fucking door, telling her I got a call from my mom and she was in the emergency room, you know.

I start to politely blow off her calls and gently let the relationship die out after that. I didn’t want to see her anymore, but I also didn’t want to piss her off and get fired. And I had that done. I had distanced myself enough that we didn’t even see each other at work anymore. Hadn’t seen each other for months, in fact.

Now, I told you that story I could tell you this story.

I was out to dinner one night by myself at a seafood place. I looked at the menu and decided that the butterfish sounded good, so I ordered some of it, ate it, and immediately felt a rumbling in my gut. The fish was delicious, prepared with a nice lemon and rosemary stuffing. But some part of it did not like my stomach at all. I tucked my discomfort away in the back of his mind as just gas. But as the meal finished up and the waiter brought the check, my intestines decided to push me to the limit of shitting myself.

The urge came suddenly and I pushed myself up and out of my chair and set off at a fast walk towards the mens room, my stomach rumbling and shifting the whole time. My ass felt close to spewing and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I made a mess all over the restaurant floor. I was feet away from the door to the restroom.

“John!”

I halted in my tracks and my asshole retracted inward, having nothing to do with the load of diarrhea trying to escape from inside it.

“Oh my god! John!”

I quickly weighed my options. I decided that ignoring the voice behind me had worse consequences than ignoring the voice in my ass.

I turned around.

“I thought it was you. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Where have you been?” she asked, in her usual nagging tone.

“I’ve been good,” I said through clenched teeth. The liquid crap in my colon had found a battering ram and was trying to knock down the door. It took every ounce of my abdominal strength to hold it in. But I couldn’t do it for much longer.

“I’msorryIdidn’tcallI’vebeenverybusyandimeanttobutididn’tandIhopethisdoesn’taffectusatworkungh,” I didn’t mean to grunt at the end. But truthfully, Superman would not have been able to hold in a shit this epic.

“Oh. It’s okay,” she said, then leaned into my ear and whispered, “I could never be angry at the only man to ever fuck me that good,” and she licked my ear a little bit with that. This caused my stomach to back off for a second, as my brain now had to decide which most pressing, getting out the shit or getting horny. She backed away from my ear and the decision was made, I had to get to the bathroom right then. It was do or die time.

“IneedtousetherestroomI’msorrywecantalkmoreinasecond,” I said.

“Yes. We will talk more very shortly,” she said with a look on her face and a tone in her voice that made no effort to pretend that she meant “talk” when she said “talk.”

I gave a courteous nod and turned and put my hand on the door. I was on the cusp of private, sweet, stinky relief, when, I felt a smack and a grip on my ass. Joanna, dumb as always, horny as always, had decided to grab my behind and squeeze as a playful sexy gesture. The impact of palm to buttcheek triggered a cascade of bodily reactions. My asshole, which to that point had fought like a champion, finally admitted defeat and the tide of shit it had been holding back spewed out like old faithful.

The release was so oily, so wet, so disgustingly warm, that Joanna’s hand was covered in filth, as it soaked through my dress pants.

I had only moments to enjoy the dump of dopamine in his system, my body’s reward for doing my business, when the whole scene became the restaurant’s business, as a sudden shitty smell took over the air. I turned around from the bathroom door to see the entire restaurant and my gorgeous boss staring directly at me and the pool of shit around my feet. I could only stare back in a dumbfounded display of embarrassment.

Joanna leaned directly in to my ear and whispered to me, “I’ll walk out first and get a cab, you come to my place in thirty minutes,” and this time she did not just lick my earlobe, she jammed her whole tongue into my ear canal. She pulled back and gave me the most obvious look that any horny woman has ever given a man, then she leaned back in for one final whisper.

“And if you even think about changing your pants or cleaning up at all, you’re out of a fucking job mister.” And with that she turned and walked away.

I went straight home and changed into some clean pants. I stayed there all night and called into work the next day. I’ve decided that I’d rather deliver pizza than deal with that shit.