I confess that as a child I once crapped into the cat box and that my mother puzzled about our kitty cat's unusually large pile. So then the poor animal had to fast for a day, but I secretly fed her, she was innocent after all.
I remember well the time when I crapped on the floor in kindergarten. It happened like this: whenever a kid had a birthday, all the tables would be pushed together in the middle of the room and everybody would sit at them. At some point I had to go to the bathroom very urgently. This I told to the auntie who took care of us. It seems she didn't grant me the relief and kept me from going to the bathroom. Since it became unbearable soon thereafter, I simply crawled under the table and did my business directly in the room's geographic center. Of course, the nasty pile was duly observed after the celebration when the tables had been moved back to their original places. We all had to line up and look straight into the aunties' eyes. In spite of the aunties' intensive efforts to discover the evildoer, he was never caught. They had no choice: they had to dispose of the pile themselves. On the one hand, today I feel a little guilty. On the other, auntie should have let me go to the bathroom.
When I was 22, I met a really great girl. We met regularly and were just about to start a relationship. I was really head over heels into her, and she into me. Since I already had my own apartment at the time, we often spent our evenings together at my place. On another great evening we had eaten Chinese together. We both ordered the same dish and, since she likes to eat spicy, and I wanted to keep up with her, I ordered spicy, too. We drove to my apartment after the fiery Chinese fun and carried on passionately on the couch. I was overjoyed because it was the first time we'd kissed, and, even though it might have been premature, we both definitely wanted to sleep together. So first we took turns in the bathroom freshening up. Just then I felt a stab of pain in my stomach region, all my stomach contents were churning and I got some really nasty cramps. I didn't let on, because I didn't want to spoil the situation. Then, as we were already involved in our foreplay, I realized that something gassy was pushing to exit back there. As she became more passionate and my stomach pains steadily got worse because of all the moving around, I tried to quickly stifle the fart between my butt cheeks. It worked, too, until she suddenly stopped and asked: "Phew, do you smell it, too, something smells like rotten eggs." I downplayed it totally and said that I didn't smell anything. She didn't let it deter for long and started in on a sideways 69 position. I panicked completely and had to really hold the fart back in my quivering a-hole. But there came a point where nothing would help. I simply couldn't contain it anymore and farted such a loud and brutal gust of wind in her face that she started to cough out of disgust and to swear. The stink was really so gross that for a moment I was even disgusted myself. She snatched up all her duds and disappeared like the wind (how fitting). Before anything else, I made straight for the pot and didn't leave it for the next 20 minutes. Afterward, I tried to reach her, but I never heard back from her anymore. Of course, she had to tell her girlfriends all about it, and, because we were part of the same circle of friends, I would be addressed for months as "Fart-face Frank." If only I'd ordered a normal dish that evening, me and my need to show off!
I was preparing lunch when I (w/27) got extremely horny. Since neither my partner nor anything else suitable was readily available, I used the cucumber. I was planning to dispose of it immediately when my partner called that he was bringing his mum (a real dragon of a mother in law) for lunch. Side dish was cucumber salad. Correct. With THAT cucumber. My self-control was extremely challenged trying not to laugh during lunch. I couldn't hide it completely, so my partner asked me later what was going on. I told him the whole story while suffering from a conniption that brought tears to my eyes. Thankfully he took it humorously. I'd love to tell the whole world.
I am painter by profession, and I masturbate into the white paint. I think the paint is shining more brightly because of it. I'm spunking into the white paint, my customers are extremely satisfied and always say how shiny the white walls are. They call me a magician and are recommending me all around. I have more work than I can compete, my dairy is full until the end of times and they keep coming. I'm delighted; even so I am living with a lie.