Buddy Dumping in a public men's room


Most guys would rather not chat to their neighbor in a public men’s room, whether at the urinals or in the stalls. But over the years I have come to realize there are a select few that not only like talking to their neighbor but invite it. I categorize them in the following ways.  The grunter, the sigher, and the mumbler. If find yourself beside one of these chances are you can start up a conversation very easily and believe me most of these guys will surprise you with how much they will share. They belong to a certain group of men that were raised in a relaxed shitting environment. My best friend growing up came from a family of guys that never closed the door and talked a lot about their shitting habits. Even the father would recount the mammoth dumps he took.  I guess this is what started my fascination.

It all started when one day I was taking a loud dump with lots of farts. Some gruff old guy entered the stall beside me (without fully closing the stall door). He took a seat and grunted away. I let a blaster of a fart rip into the bowl and the old guy says with a chuckle “That was a healthy one” I laughed, cleaned up and left the stall to find his door open and him wiping his ass completely unbothered by the fact that I could see him.

So I started the experiment. The following are some of  the incidents I have had while having a shit in a public men’s room.

The first time I had a conversation was in an airport in quiet secluded men’s room that was rarely used. There was an older red neck heading into the can, he took a stall and I took the stall beside him. He sat down, and started to grunt, pushing out a huge pffft of a fart followed by a sigh. Silence, then another good grunt followed by a small piece of shit hitting the water. Another sigh. Another grunt, another small splash and then a big sigh and a mumble “Oh boy”. I grabbed the cue, farted out a log and sighed saying out loud, “Nothin’ like a good shit”. He responded immediately with, “Ain’t that the truth, don’t wanna get on a plane without taking a good shit”. I responded, “I hear ya”. Silence. Another big sustained grunt from him and sigh. “This one is hard ” he added, catching his breath. “We have been staying with friends and I hate using a strange toilet for big numbers. I tried to go this morning but couldn’t move a thing.” I chuckled, “I hear ya”. Still he went on, “I didn’t want to be on the plane with my gut bloated with farts” I farted and grunted, “I know what you mean.” He was silent but I could hear him winding up. One big “grrrr” and he was in action. He didn’t say it to me but I heard him mumble, “c’mon c’mon” and then there was a loud “pfffft” and the sound of solid logging sliding out. “Ooooo” he sighed, panting as he caught his breath. I took the opportunity, “That sounded like a big one”, he replied, “Very”. I started to wipe up and wished him a good flight and left. He finished up as I was drying my hands. We didn’t look at each other or say anything. He was indeed on my flight. Five rows ahead.



Another memorable experience happened in a park toilet. It was a cool fall day and not many people out. I was finishing a walk and headed to the men’s toilets which were very old, wood stall doors that didn’t lock, just swung closed.  As I was approaching I noticed a man I had seen often with his wife, he was older and wearing large dark glasses that suggested he had a vision problem. He entered a stall and I took the next one to him. Whenever I do this I fart loudly to let them know I am not there to solicit but to simply share a dump. He was having some trouble getting onto the bowl and I swore that he didn’t close his door. He was a mumbler and a farter. “Okay lets give it a try” he said very quietly to himself, then he farted. I farted a few times and decided to wipe up. I opened my door and came face to face with the guy in full grimace pushing an endless rope out into the bowl, making no attempt to close his door. I was washing up at the sink in front of his open stall and he says, “That didn’t take you long”, I turned and said “The old story…just needed a good fart”. Thinking that was where it was going to end. But no. “I just did a big one and it didn’t take me much time at all” he seemed confused and sat back on the bowl looking down between his legs and gave a whistle, “That was a big one”. I started to rinse up and dry and can see him digging the paper into his ass with a grunt. “Have a great day”

Then there was the handsome businessman. I was at Civic Centre doing some research and went into the men’s room to have a caffine induced dump. A big one. There was a row of five stalls and the place was empty. I took the second to last stall furthest from the door. As I was wiping the seat off I heard the door open. I waited and listened as the guy opened each stall door working his way to my end. Odd I thought, they were all clean when I went by them but the guy settled on the one next to me at the far end. I sat down and started to fart and then shit, grunting with each blast. He sat down and dropped his pants to his ankles, his legs far apart and let loose with a fart so loud and long it echoed. This was followed by the most enormous of relief sighs, a signal, a welcoming to conversation. But I waited. Again a grunt and another series of wet, sharp blasts that must of hurt. Another huge sigh of relief. Another grunt and blast shit into to bowl. Another over done sigh. That was it. The final signal. “That’s got to feel better” I commented matter of factly. He took the bait and swam with it. “Sure does” Now the following conversation all took place with him grunting and farting and dropping his load. “I started working on it this morning and then had some lunch That started things going, I was holding in a pretty big load”. He farts were still loud and sustained like a machine. “Sounds like you got a lot of gas”. “Medications make me fart a lot” and then another grunted thundering roar of gas. Where was it coming from? And then things got weird. On the panel that held the stall wall, the panel that supports the door, near the floor there was a drawing etched into the metal. This is usually where one sees the slogan “Tap foot twice for a BJ”. But on this panel there was etched an gargantuan cock and balls with the name Raoul scrawled under it. He farted again and pushed some more shit out and then out of the blue says, “That Raoul is something eh?” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this. “Love to see how exaggerated that is” he continued grunting out another long fart that ended with a little “ow”. “Just a bad drawing” I chuckled, starting to wipe up. We left our stalls together as another guy came in and took another stall. We were washing up and he was smirking at me in the mirror. He towelled his hands off threw the towel in the garbage, turned to me with a wink and said, “Off to find Raoul” and he walked out.

One last very memorable shit conversation started in a department store elevator. I was taking a break from and headed up to the sixth floor men’s room. A guy dressed in winter construction overalls got on and the doors closed. He looked at me and  smiled and said “Nice day today” which was a joke cause there was a blizzard outside. He seemed awkward but over friendly, goofy looking almost. He got off behind me and followed me to the toilet. “Looks like we’re headed to the same place”. I was actually in need of a huge dump, had little time and was just wanting to get in and out. But I couldn’t help myself. I took one stall and he took the one next to it. I jokingly said, “Hope you won’t mind the noise”. He replied with, “As long as I only hear – and then he made a fart sound through  the side of his mouth like a kid followed by a huge sigh”. I sat down and got to grunting out a fart. “You weren’t kidding he said taking down his overalls and sitting down, feet spread apart, his big old construction boots covered in mud. “Lets see what I got” and then he grunted and shit hard. Big sigh of relief, more work from my end. “Wow it was hard one today” he adds.  Then he says…”Whoooeee that stinks”. “Sorry about that”…”I think it’s both of us making the stink. I was so I finshed up and said goodbye wishing him a good shit. And left. About a year later, bored one night on a business trip, I was You Tubing “guys shitting” Guess who has posted numerous ids of himself taking dumps and giving commentary…

You just never know who you’re going to meet during a big dump.

Of course there are the stories I have that involve asking men to shit for me in public restrooms. That’s for later.

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  1. ever have a loaded pair of briefs flung between the stalls and see who brings it up?

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