Dress Code Drama

Teah was notorious for sticking things into her ears. There must have been erogenous zones located within her inner audio apparatus.

She loved the feeling of a cool thin object scraping at the walls of her ear canal.

She usually dug in there with a black bobby pin, but lately she'd been using a semi-straightened paper clip.

She'd straighten the paper clip to where the loops were on the ends and used the smaller loop for digging.

Teah knew of her body cheeses like earwax, toejam, boogers, eye crust, the cheesy white film that collected under her toenails, and that overwhelmingly awful scent that knocked Teah on her ass every time she rubbed behind her ears with her fingers.

Her most interesting substance wasn't cheese at all, but rather clay. Teah's gastrointestinal tract was a proctologist's wet dream.

Teah and her daughter Hannah each had their own bathroom. Teah had the one adjacent to her bedroom and Hannah was supposed to have the bathroom in the hallway all to herself.

But, for some reason, Teah felt more comfortable in the family bathroom than her own.

Teah Jones was a divorced mother of one in her late forties and a former online soft core Scat Queen.

She had made dozens of coprophiliac fetish videos for her ex-husband's website, and even though she chose to remain anonymous by not showing her face, she had made a name for herself and a little cash while she had done it.

Now, there was a new website run by Teah and her daughter: RateHerTurd.com.

Teah was gearing up for yet another smelly, anus-gaping magnum poopus.

She'd been at work all day, thinking about how badly she wanted to go.

She could have gone on her lunch break, but she chose to hold it instead.

The feeling of that horrid anaconda in her rectum made her moist in the seat of her tight, black pinstripe pants. There must've been an air-pocket up in there, because she was gassing up her cubicle all afternoon.

Her flatulence got so bad, Teah had to use lemon-scented multi-purpose cleaner as air freshener.

After leaving her post at Community Regional Action Partnership, Teah got into the minivan and drove home as fast as she could.

By the time she got in the door, her gluteal cleft began to perspire and stinky wetness stained the back of her white cotton, full brief panties.

Teah couldn't wait to sit down on the fluffy, mink toilet seat and let everything go.

She panted as she kicked off her high heels and took down her pinstripe pants.

She stepped in place like an aerobics instructor as she unbuttoned her blouse and flung it on to the bed.

She removed her knee-high stockings, found her black flip-flops and put her French pedicured feet into them. In her bra and underwear, she grabbed her tunic shirt and leggings and rushed off to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, Teah hit the lights, turned on the ventilation fan and went over to the toilet.

She stood before the glossy porcelain altar and did her poop-yoga breathing.

There was so much pressure down there.

Her bladder was filled to capacity and her rectum ballooned with fetid fertilizer, causing her toes to curl into the mink throw rug upon which she stood.

Teah felt peristaltic waves cooling down.

She took down her panties and let them cover her feet. She sat down on the throne, stepped out of her panties and moved her flip flops aside.

She held everything in a bit longer...

And then--SPA-LUSH!!!

Everything poured out of her with such force, she hunched over and gasped.

Urine and feces exploded out of her exits into the bowl in powerful waves.

Teah leaned forward with her head down, getting ready for the big moment.

While the bodily toxins emptied from her, Teah felt it building. She focused all of her energy to her hymen.

Then, came ripples of ecstasy.

A huge discharge of snotty vaginal mucus fell from her open meat flaps followed by a blood-stained tube of cotton with a string on the end.

Teah breathed out of her nose while she was dripping from all three holes below.

Teah was still shaking when Hannah entered.

"Had another poo-gasm?" Hannah asked.

Teah leaned back on the toilet tank.

"That felt so good."

Hannah went to the sink and checked her hair in the medicine cabinet mirror. It was no longer red.

She had dyed it jet black.

Teah began the task of cleansing her wet and gooey nether region with baby wipes.

"What's with your hair?" Teah asked.

"I have a job," Hannah said.

Teah stood and put on her leggings.

"When did you get a job?"

"Last week."

Teah put on her tunic shirt.

"You couldn't tell me?"

Hannah turned to her mother.

"Mom, the less the courts know, the better."

"You think Germaine's going to come after you the same way you went after him?"

"It's a part-time temp position. Weekends only."

Teah's feet found her flip flops again.

"I'm not going to say anything. Just make sure you dress professional, and not like a skank."

"You'd know all about that," Hannah said. "Look at what you wear. Pants got your ass sticking out like you have two cantaloupe halves back there."

Teah turned her back to the full-body mirror.

"Oh yeah. Momma loves her big booty. I give them whores at my job a run for their money."

Teah gyrated her buttocks within her leggings.

"Girl, your father used to tear my behind up. He filled up both my holes..."

"Mom," Hannah said. "I don't wanna hear that."

"He stuffed my bird so good; it made me want to hide everything in public."

"Would you stop it?"

"I dress to impress. But, underneath the business attire, I have on my sexiest fanny flossy."

"Enough, mom. My God!"

Teah laughed.

"All I'm saying is dress decent."

"I hear you," Hannah said. "I don't want to hear you talk about having sex with dad. It's bad enough I walked in on him digging dookie out of your butt."

"You may not like to hear about it," Teah walked by Hannah. "But least that man gets the job done."

---------------------------

Hannah was an Executive Assistant through a temp agency that garnished her paycheck claiming some bullshit job-placement fee.

Hannah didn't fight the agency.

They would just replace her with another money-hungry, desperate, low-income single mother who would gladly put her knees on the office carpet and let the boss paint her face with gobs of his protein shake.

Hannah sat behind a desk for six hours doing work she knew didn't match her starting pay rate.

But, Human Resources wasn't so bad.

The company had little to no complaints and the area where she sat was well out of sight from its mainly male employees.

She wore a black and white horizontal striped, long sleeve dress that stopped at her knees.

On her feet, a pair of peep-toe black pumps.

Her boss Keith, an erection with a tie attached, was always making Hannah get up and walk across the office so that he could fantasize about the things he'd do if he were welcome between her luscious cheeks.

He waited for everyone else to leave the office before he finally approached Hannah's work area with his sport coat removed and his tie loosened.

"Feel like staying late?" Keith sat on the desk.

Hannah opened her black leather handbag, which was a clever knock-off.

"Maybe," she told him.

She felt the meat gears in her pelvis turning.

She held back an air pocket that swelled in her nether region. She thought about farting, but didn't.

"I could use the extra money."

"Listen. I'll talk to the agency about hiring you as a regular part-time employee."

"Not full-time?" she asked.

Keith humped his shoulders with a pout. Then, he stared longingly at Hannah.

"You know, baby girl, I can give you some extra hours, if you're, you know, willing to put your work in."

Hannah's hand got a hold of her wet wipes before she stopped moving and realized what he said.

She thinned her eyes and looked up at this bald, clean-shaven, broad-shouldered man with his rimless eyeglass frames, kissable lips, and dark eyes.

Damn it, she thought. He is so handsome. He smells so fucking good. My pussy is so wet right now.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

Keith leaned closer to her.

"I've been checking you out all day. You've been signaling to me ever since you walked in the door."

Hannah let the wet wipes go.

"I have a boyfriend."

"He ain't with you."

"How would you know?"

"Your body language."

"My body?" she asked.

"Yes, your body. Which brings me to the reason I came out here. Most of the guys here agree that you have a bangin' ass body, but this is a professional work setting and you come in here wearing that."

"I beg your pardon," Hannah said.

Keith covered Hannah's hand with his huge paw.

"You have the biggest ass I've ever seen, but you have to cover it up a better next time. This is human resources, not a gangsta rap music video."

Hannah took her hand away and used it to stroke her hair as she shouldered her purse.

"I have to go," said.

Keith watched Hannah stand up and pull down her striped, long sleeve dress.

Her butt was fucking huge in that tight dress.

The stripes hypnotized him as she turned in place and stepped into her high heels.

Keith looked down at her glossy black toenails with white tips, not even realizing that she'd been sitting there barefoot the entire time.

Hannah got her right foot into the first shoe and held on to Keith's shoulder while she wedged her left foot into the other peep-toe pump.

She could feel the heat from his skin through his dress shirt. His shoulder was hard, lean muscle.

She wondered if his penis was the same.

She started to move forward, but Keith got off of the desk and blocked her way.

"Excuse me," she said.

Keith removed his glasses and grinned down at her.

His eyes are dreamy, she thought, clinching her anus tight as a poo wad the size of a cricket ball lowered into her rectum and settled there.

Her bladder suddenly filled with vulva vinegar.

Please, let him have a big dick.

"I have to go," she told him, eyes low.

"Where?" he asked.

Hannah looked him square in the eyes.

"To the bathroom."

Keith moved aside and watched Hannah leave, her buttocks wobbling with every step she took.

Hannah found the employee restroom and pushed down on the door handle.

She held the door open, turned on the light, clicked the lock button on the handle inward and prepared to handle her business before something caught her eye.

I can't believe these people, she thought, and left.

Hannah returned to the cubicles.

Keith was gone. She went directly to his office and stood there with her hands on her hips.

"There's no toilet paper in the bathroom."

"Use paper towels," he said, typing.

Hannah threw her purse on the desk top.

"I'm not wiping with those rough-ass towels."

Keith looked at her.

"You must have a soft behind."

"You're a pervert, you know that?"

Keith rose from his chair.

Hannah moved back.

"You like me because I'm a pervert," he said.

You delicious man, Hannah thought. If I didn't have to shit so bad, I'd bend over on this desk and let you fuck me.

"I told you, I have a man."

Keith stopped in front of her.

"You told me already."

Hannah caught herself swooning. She blinked rapidly to fight the scent coming from his body wash.

"Do you know where they keep the bath tissue?"

Keith turned halfway and pointed to an open door.

"I have some in my private bath--"

Hannah rushed in, hit the lights and came back out with a fresh roll. She was only out of the office for a few seconds before she came back and snatched her purse from Keith after he picked it up off of his desk.

Hannah was getting desperate. Urine was leaking from her meat flaps below and it wet her inner thighs.

She came back to the employee restroom door and wildly shook the handle.

Oh, please God no.

She jerked the handle again and realized that she had doomed herself, because of her cursed habit of locking bathroom doors before she ever decided to utilize the facilities therein.

She thought about the bathroom in the lobby, but the way her pee and poop holes were holding on, she felt that she wouldn't make it.

She ran back to Keith's office. She dropped her purse on the floor before she even got to his desk.

"Can I please use your bathroom?" she asked.

"Number One?" he asked, "or Number Two?"

Hannah was going to say both, but said...

"Number two."

That must've been the magic word, because then Keith stood up and showed her to the door.

But he blocked the way in.

"How bad do you have to go?" he asked.

Hannah felt feces curl against her shut anus.

"I've got to go so bad right now."

Farts began to pop from her ass.

"Hear that? I'm passing gas. You've got to let me go to the bathroom right now!"

Keith didn't budge.

"I'm not sure I want you blowing up my personal bathroom. You look like you can shit a lot."

"Please," Hannah begged, lifting and lowering her black peep-toe heels. "I'll do anything. I'll fuck you, suck your dick. But, you've gotta let me in there!"

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes," Hannah said. "You have my word. Now, let me in. I've gotta go!"

"Can we do it at my place tonight?"

"Whatever you want," she said. "Now, can I please use your toilet?"

"How well can you suck dick?" Keith asked.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" Hannah pushed past him and ran to the toilet.

She spun around, lifted up her dress and ripped her thong down. Urine sprayed all down her leg before she sat on the bowl and adjusted herself.

Keith watched all of this with a rock-hard dick in his dress pants, hearing her high-pressured fire hose urine stream in the bowl.

When the piss flow died down, Hannah exhaled.

She glared at Keith.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

Keith reached for the door to shut it.

"Wait," she said. "Get my purse."

Keith left and came back with her hand bag.

Hannah snatched it for him.

"Now get out."

Keith moved backward, as she remained seated on the bowl with her peep-toe heels turned inward.

----------------------------

Keith was back behind his desk, feet up, watching college football highlights on his favorite sports site, wondering what Hannah was doing in there.

He checked his watch.

Twenty minutes had gone by and not a peep out of her. Most female employees were done in less than five minutes and while they semi-stood over the bowl.

Keith went to the door and wiggled the handle.

It wasn't locked. She hadn't moved since she sat down. He pushed the door open a bit.

"Hannah?"

He heard nothing and, strangely enough, smelled nothing. Was her bathroom emergency nothing more than a dramatic attention-getting hoax?

"Hannah, are you okay?"

He opened the door and found Hannah perched on the wide mouth porcelain bowl with her right hand holding the right side of her face, with her right elbow planted into her lap, her left hand hanging freely over the other side.

Her heels were near the wall, one toppled, the other standing, above the toilet paper holder, and her black thong was stretched between her knees.

Her black and white, horizontally striped dress was gathered all the way up to her chest, below her bust lie.

Keith could see stretch marks on her tummy and cottage cheese cellulite on meaty thighs.

The sight of her belly button suddenly aroused him.

He hadn't seen a woman's navel since he broke up with his girlfriend.

"Hannah," he said again.

She snored, mouth open, tongue showing.

He nudged her right arm.

When Hannah snapped awake, without thinking, her balled fist smashed Keith in the groin.

She gasped with her hands to her mouth as he crumpled to the bathroom tiles.

She watched him grunt and groan before she reached forward to help him to his knees.

"I am so sorry, Keith. I thought you were..."

Hannah palmed her face. When she looked again, Keith was kneeling with a smile.

"Do you always take this long?" he asked.

Hannah exhaled.

"I can't poop."

"What do you mean you can't poop?"

"It's stuck. It won't move."

"Then, why didn't you hold it until you got home?"

"Because, I had to pee too. And, if I hold my pee too long, I'll have to poop too."

She nodded.

"Why am I even telling you this?!"

Keith stood up.

"Because it turns you on."

Hannah looked up at him.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you know Vincent Bismuth?"

Hannah shut her eyes and grinned.

"We went to the same college," he said.

"That's where I go," she said.

"Is it true really you that passed a turd the size of a baseball bat?" Keith asked her.

"Something like that."

"That's amazing," he said.

Hannah thinned her eyes at him, but not in disgust.

"Wanna see something?" she asked.

Keith bobbed his head.

"Get on your knees," she told him.

When Keith did this, Hannah semi-stood and turned around until her rear end was in his face.

She reached around and opened her buttocks wide, letting her open anus hang low with a filthy whisper.

Keith watched in awe as a wad of what looked like glazed, baked mini meatballs pressed against her tender orifice and stretched the meat of her asshole until it formed a vertical ziggurat from her bottom.

Keith didn't realize she was bearing down, until she breathed out and the blockage sank into her rectum.

He watched as she turned around and sat down.

"You gotta help me get this out. I can't drive home with this thing in my ass."

"What can I do?" Keith asked.

"Take down your pants," Hannah said.

Keith stood tall and did just that.

Hannah didn't think much of his penis.

It was average, but had girth. She lifted his organ and wet it with her mouth.

Keith's knees nearly gave out as she used both hands to get his member deeper into her throat.

The sounds her mouth made kept Keith hard and made Hannah forget about the horde of chocolate-coated walnuts nested steadfast in her poop chute.

Urine trickled in the bowl below as everything between her pelvic bone and tail bone relaxed again.

Hannah groaned with dick in her mouth as a poop morsel plopped in the toilet water, followed by another, and another, until enough pellets cleared her anus to make way for the fecal fist pushing on her backdoor.

Hannah got up, turned around and bent over with her hands firm on the toilet seat.

"Fuck me," she said to him.

Keith wasted no time planting his sausage into the pink meat tube of her warm, moist velvety walls.

She swallowed up his penis and gripped it with such intense pressure, that he moaned and waited for her to relax before he ventured deeper.

Hannah was already gushing around his penis.

Her black, silky hair fell over her face and wavered as Keith got a good rhythm going.

The fronts of Keith's thighs clapped against her buttocks and her shit-stuffed anus remained opened and puckered with that ball of poop morsels sitting on the edge of sweet fecal release.

Keith slowed down and pulled her cheeks apart to see what was brushing past his pubic hairs.

They were Hannah's poo balls, popping from her anus like the road apples of a mare in season.

Hannah dipped her head low as her pussy erupted, pushing his dick out, following by a violent wave of milky white vaginal juices.

Hannah collapsed to her knees as the last of the poop mass dropped from her anus and on to the tiled floor with the rest of her human droppings.

Keith moved away and watched her anus bunch up and disappear up into her buttocks.

"Oh God," Hannah said, face covered.

Keith helped her back on to the toilet.

After a few minutes, Hannah stood, pulled up her thong, pulled down her tight dress and stepped over her poop balls on the floor.

"I'll clean that up," she said.