…..well, not really. Just pretend.
I kinda had an idea, something I tried. I was surprised at how excited it made me feel when I was doing it. If you’ve read my blog/story posts, you’ll know that I’m working on expanding an old pants-poo story into a novel. The main female character (I called her Beck), a kind of companion in the story, is actually based on a woman I knew.
In real life, we don’t actually associate anymore. She remarried to someone else a few years ago, and has cast most of her former friends aside, in an “I’m better than you now” kind of way. It’s at a point where most of her friends from my era are not even on her social media friends list anymore. I don’t harbour any particular ill feeling, but it did make this particular act very easy.
She was one of my imagination’s favourite subjects for pants poo fantasy, I used to imagine us both pooing our undies and taking turns sniffing each other’s bums. 2 days ago, as I was thinking about my story, I decided wanted to “Poo with Beck”. I looked her up on Facebook and scrolled through her photos. I thought that I would just poo my undies while I was looking at her photos, but then I had another idea. I printed out one of her selfies, about the size of a postage stamp, and went out into my yard. After a few minutes of holding in a big poo, I slipped the photo into the back of my undies…. then I pooed myself, big time. It was actually quite a hard poo, I had to genuinely push and it hurt my bum.
I just pooed myself all over Beck’s face. It felt really, really good. After sitting it in, and lying in bed for a couple of hours playing with myself, I had to clean up. When I emptied my undies, the photo was stuck almost perfectly in the middle of the poo. I certainly hit the target.
There were times, whilst I was lying in my pooed undies, tossing myself, that I felt that I had actually pooed on her face. I’m totally going to do it again. Maybe I could print some iron-on transfers…. hmmm. It just felt really exciting. More so than I thought it would. Perhaps there’s something symbolic about it?