Shit Happens

Shit Happens

Allison could stand it no longer. The tingling between her legs had become a steady electrical current, and her panties felt wet enough to soak through her thin cotton skirt. Hoping her coworkers would not notice her absence, Allison headed for the ladies’ room. She wasn’t sure how long it would take, but usually she could bring herself to orgasm pretty fast.

Thank God the restroom was empty. Allison hoped she’d have at least a few minutes alone to do what she had to do. Trembling with excitement and trying to stifle her heavy breathing, she lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties. Her pussy lips were swollen, red and throbbing, almost screaming for attention. Moisture oozed out onto her inner thighs. Allison leaned back as far as she dared (and as comfortably as she could) on the cold toilet seat and began to rub her clit with her middle finger, occasionally dipping it into the honey pot for more lubrication. Her vagina felt hot and slippery, and she closed her eyes and imagined her boyfriend’s thick penis sliding deeply inside her. Her vaginal walls began to twitch and clench, and she could feel her pussy muscles elongating, stretching and pulling themselves until they molded themselves into a penis shape. Her labia opened still further, like a flower, and appeared almost purple. She moaned softly as she imagined the swollen, shiny head of Dave’s penis probing her cervix, their fluids mingling into a hot sexual soup. With her free hand, she touched her breasts, and noticed the nipples had become hard and visible through the thin cotton of her blouse. Impatiently, she unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra (which had a front hook). Her full and round breasts burst out, free of their fabric prison. She felt another rush of electricity and a flood of moisture between her parted thighs. Shaking uncontrollably and struggling to keep her breathing even she hung her shirt and bra from the hook on the back of the metal stall.

Allison heard the bathroom door open and the clicking of high heels. The intruder went to the far stall and urinated for what seemed like an eternity. Allison had already been here at least ten minutes, and she was afraid that her boss or a coworker might have started to look for her. She had to come, but she had to hurry. Composing herself for a moment, she made a decision. She would not try to rush an orgasm, as that would put her under pressure and possibly make her unable to come at all. There was a better solution. She could pretend she wasn’t here at all. If no one could see her feet in the stall, perhaps they would think she had gone to a meeting or another work errand.

Allison waited for the intruder to leave, who was now spending an infuriatingly long time running water and preening in front of the sink. Zippers and snaps of makeup bags kept opening and closing. Come on, you bitch, hurry up! Allison stealthily lifted her legs up onto the rim of the toilet seat, her knees bent and her feet resting on the front of the seat. Her shoes kept sliding on the seat because of their slippery soles and kitten heels, but she dared not remove the shoes because there was nowhere to put them except the floor, and that would give away her whereabouts for sure.

The position was a little awkward but not too bad. Now she could stop worrying about someone seeing her feet and being able to identify her. So she got back to business, but after a little while, her legs began to feel like they were falling asleep, and she had to shift position a few times, which made the toilet creak a little. She was getting more uncomfortable every second, and soon her knees were practically knocking together. Damn! She closed her eyes again, forcing herself to concentrate...

Now someone else was coming in. Fuck. Allison shifted her numb and now almost painful legs again, careful not to make noise with her slippery shoes. Then she became completely still, not daring to even breathe. Whoever the person was, she was going into the very next stall! Goddamn it. Now she would never be able to come. She was already losing her horniness. Maybe she ought to just give up and leave. But she had already been here at least 20 minutes, so leaving now would be very risky: what if her boss saw her leaving, or suddenly saw her feet behind the door? Then she would know Allison had been in the bathroom all that time. No, she would stay put.

Suddenly Allison heard an explosive wet sound, like a machine gun followed by a huge splash. This was immediately followed by some loud plopping noises and yet more insanely loud farts. A grunt emanated from the next-door stall, followed by another round of plops. It sounded like stew being dumped into a bucket. Allison was fast losing her itch, and decided to give up on having an orgasm, at least until she got home tonight. But she couldn’t risk leaving until whoever-it-was finished unloading. So she kept still, trying to endure the pins and needles in her legs, thighs, and now even her butt. She looked toward the stall floor to see if she could guess who was in there taking a dump. All she could see was a pair of moth-eaten, filthy Nikes and the bottom edge of a pair of frayed blue jeans. The smell–sauerbraten and overripe eggs–was now permeating her own stall, and Allison felt her stomach go all queasy. She head more farts, interspersed with smaller plops like mini-explosions, and an avalanche of small wet-sounding buzz-saw farts.

No longer able to stand the smells or the sounds, Allison decided to leave. The slob in the next stall was obviously too busy with her bodily functions right now to know or care about Allison’s whereabouts. So she unrolled a piece of toilet tissue from the stubborn commercial toilet paper dispenser that only dispensed one sheet at a time, and wiped the remaining wetness from her pussy (most of it had already evaporated). She pulled up her panties, which were now cold as well as wet, and pulled down her skirt, brushing smooth any wrinkles. She opened the stall door, but not soon enough to avoid the sound of the shitting woman letting loose an enormous guttural groan followed by another load of pig slop. What on earth had that woman been eating?

But at least Allison’s itch was gone (even if not by the manner she had intended), so she’d be able to get some work done. Work seemed a relief now, a welcome respite from listening to the godawful sounds and smelling the godawful smells of that woman emptying her overloaded bowels. Even though Allison knew the woman couldn’t help it, she felt annoyed at her just the same. She was glad she didn’t know who it was. Oh, well, Allison thought as she returned to her desk and settled into her swivel chair. Shit happens.

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