Mum and Dad had dropped me off at my new flat in North London. I had been there for a couple of months and it was the first time they had been to see me there. We had been for a meal and they were off home. It was a great little place. It was the basement of a medium size house and had access to a small garden. It suited me well.
I had been feeling horny all day long and it had been hard not showing out. It had been a hot day and sitting in the restaurant with my folks sweathad been soaking into my Jockeys and they felt as if I had wet them. Now my folks had gone I realised just how much I needed to poo. I was horny and I needed to poo. My brain began to ask me why not – why not just dump in your pants it was saying – go on son, enjoy. I began to think about the young guy I had watched crap his pants at Lords watching a county match. A couple of weeks earlier I had been there watching an exciting match. It had been clear to me that this lad was desperate to poo and there was no way he was leaving the ground before the last ball. I was standing close to him. I saw the bulge. He put his hands on the back of his jeans and cupped the pile. He held it and he squeezed it. I could smell it. The youth was unconcerned. He watched to the end and I followed him out of the ground. Now his jeans were stained and damp. I had an orgasm as I walked and cum trickled down the inside of my legs. I followed him to Maida Vale where qw went different ways.
This evening in my flat it to be my turn. I never really stopped to think about it. I let poo happen and my load emerged from darkness to the white of my briefs and they filled with a good stiff and sticky poo. I took a coffee to the garden and sat on my load. It spread a little but not a lot. It felt divine. I was about 22. I had last pooped my pants ages 15. This time it would not be as long and I messed myself the next day.