Andrew’s blog, part 2.

This is a rather intriguing incident from my middle teens. Certain aspects I’ve never really figured out. Worth a read, if a bit long, and it is a prelude to a blog specifically regarding me later on. Trevor had been my best mate for several years. He was very beautiful with an exceedingly well defined body, but I was too young to understand my attraction. When we were both 15, Trevor approached me at school one Monday morning and asked if I might want to go camping with him on the Skykomish River that weekend. We both fancied ourselves photographers and he assured me there would be plenty of opportunities for photo-ops. So late one Friday afternoon in April of 2004, Trevor and his dad picked me up for the 70 minute drive to Skykomish from Seattle. Trevor’s dad would fetch us Sunday afternoon. Almost as soon as we were deposited at the campsite, things started to go wrong. It was cold, rainy and windy, we had trouble with the tent (neither of us were Boy Scouts), we couldn’t get a decent fire going to cook (ended up eating Nalley’s chili right from the can), and to top it off, it didn’t appear we had dressed warmly enough. We were basically two spoiled boys with ‘Jewish Mothers’ to look after us. (Neither of us were Jewish, but you get the idea, and there is nothing derogatory intended.) Saturday morning was dark and overcast, but after a make-shift breakfast we bravely grabbed our cameras and headed down to the river. There had been heavy snow pack that winter, and the river was rushing as if in some kind of uncontrollable tantrum, with very angry looking rapids. It was all sort of thrilling. The scenery was really gorgeous, as that part of Washington State always is, with plenty of opportunities for pictures. After lunch -cold, stale sandwiches- Trevor announced he had to pee. So he walks down to the bank, whips his willie out and lets it fly. I made a pretence of looking the other way. He rejoined me and we got more pictures, but it was becoming very obvious that the weather was deteriorating at an alarming rate. Trevor insisted on some more pictures, but as I was fumbling with my camera, the lens fell off and landed right in back of Trevor. As I bent down to pick it up, I smelled that unmistakable odour… it was obvious that Trevor at some point had shit in his pants. I was totally shocked, and yes, I could see a bit of a bulge in his jeans, nothing too prominent. Before I could really process this bizarre unexpected turn of events, the skies opened up and it started pouring- we ran back to the tent, but not before we got totally soaked. Thank god our cameras survived. Inside the tent, we both sat down (!) and before I could openly question what had happened, Trevor pulled out some cigarettes he had stolen from his dad. The cigarette smoke somewhat covered up the smell, though Trevor acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. (Note: neither of us eventually took up the habit, though I smoked briefly a year ago.) For several hours we listened to music (we were unusual in that we both liked classical music, Beethoven especially), told dirty jokes (rather ironic?) and talked about school and girls, but I never got up the nerve to ask him what happened, nor why he hadn’t so far cleaned himself up. He seemed not to be the slightest bit bothered by the state of his underwear. It was most intriguing, and if I recall correctly (I may be wrong), I briefly wondered what it might be like to try something like this myself. Later that evening, the rain stopped, and after dinner (most unsatisfactory- we missed our respective mum’s cooking), Trevor disappeared for about 20 minutes. He obviously -though unannounced- went off to clean himself up and ditch his underwear in the woods. The next day, Trevor’s dad duly arrived to pick us up, but we were both tired and slept most of the way back to Seattle. I wonder if his mum ever questioned what happened to the pair of jeans she probably washed that evening. Trevor and I remained friends through the duration of High School (he seems to have moved away after graduating), but I never did get up the nerve to inquire what happened. The following year he abruptly went home from school half-way through morning classes and there were rumours -unsubstantiated- that Trevor had a slight accident. To anyone who has bothered to plow through this- what do you make of it?

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  1. Interesting account, were there any other incidents that would make you question whether your friend was into this? Maybe it was just the lack of a decent meal which caused a bit of diaherra?

  2. mmm-seems to me that a boy who is quite unconcerned about what is in his pants,quite likes doing it in his pants!

  3. Thank-you for the comments. No doubt we didn’t eat very well on the camping trip -both Trevor and I were used to being well fed- and there might have been an issue with diarrhea, but I’m a bit skeptical about that. What happened in his pants seemed more solid.

    The BIG question which has haunted me to this day is: why did Trevor take so long before he cleaned himself up? If that had happened to me, I would have disappeared immediately into the wilds and instigated a very quick and efficient clean-up.

    One of our no-longer active members PM’d several months ago about an experience he had with someone at a summer fair when he was about my age. This boy let something loose in his pants, seemed entirely oblivious to any smell, and they even rode carnival rides together!

    Wondering if simonwet has it right: Trevor enjoyed it and figured the camping trip was a safe outlet for living a fantasy. He knew I wouldn’t ever say anything, and of course I never did.

  4. We all have early and defining experiences in our lives, and this was emphatically one of them. I could lie and say that I wanted to fondle Trevor’s load and kiss him madly, but that wouldn’t be true. Both Trevor and I at 15 were starting to get interested in girls, though 20-20 makes it obvious that I was a bit in love with him. Funny that: neither of our initial girlfriends were very satisfying, and we used to talk on our mobiles all the time about the shortcomings of our respective girlfriends. As if we were any better. Hindsight again, you know…

  5. At the end of your blog you ask, “what do you make of it”.
    He probably just shat himself because he was lazy/in bed or it was inconvenient/raining at the time.
    I’ve often read more into something I’ve seen in the street than I should, and it’s amazing how you can walk around the streets with piss-wet pants and no-one notices! Bit of a let down sometimes.
    Fredllfixit xx.

  6. He could have possibly have wanted you to lie him down and clean him up. You should have asked, whats the worst that could have happened? for all you know he did it just with you because you were in his fantasy…

  7. he asked you camping alone, he crapped his pants and left it, it appears he wanted to tell you that he either had problems or a fetish but never worked up the courage or was waiting on you to call him on it.

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