Tall Tina's First Time

I was nowhere near finished, but felt pretty uncomfortable around my rear opening so advanced the toilet roll, using the sheets of toilet paper to wipe my bottom, the soft white flowery toilet tissue doing its job and tickling my pussy as I moved it front to back from my vulva to my buttocks and anus.

Mainly looking down at my pubic hair, my panties and my bare feet, I spent the next two minutes sitting on the toilet defecating, and the experience was far from pleasant. It was like I had eaten cabbages, Brussel sprouts, broccoli, licorice, tuna fish, beans, chili and pounds and pounds of cheese, all washed down with prune juice, non-stop for a week. My poo was sticky, messy and very smelly, the atrocious odor of my excrement filling the entire bathroom.

Needing to wipe myself, I got some more toilet paper and was folding it up when one of my worst nightmares came true. Fortunately not the one of me getting attacked by a swarm of angry killer bees or murdered by a serial killer, the one of a guy walking in on me when I was sitting on the toilet. And not just any guy, a guy I really liked.

I must have forgotten to lock the door, because before I could do anything the handle turned, the door swung open and in walked the 4 feet 11 form of Max with his toothbrush, toothpaste and shaving implements, to immediately be greeted by the sight of my 7 feet 1 figure sitting on the toilet, my tee-shirt hitched up and my panties down around my ankles, toilet paper in my hand and about to wipe my bottom.

Max and I went rigid at the same time, our faces filling with shock. I let out a squeal of alarm and realized with horror that my long legs were wide open, providing Max with a perfect view of my red pubic hair and my vagina. Feeling panic, I put my left hand into my crotch to cover my genitals, and slammed my knees shut, pulling my tee-shirt down to cover my pussy even more. I somehow felt both red hot and icy cold at the same time as I squirmed in embarrassment on the toilet seat.

And of course, things got even worse. If Max had ever wondered whether teenage girls farted, the shock of being walked in on while I was on the toilet affected my bowels, and I gave a practical demonstration that the answer to this was yes, the embarrassing flatulent sound echoing in the toilet bowl and adding to my humiliation.

"Tina, I'm so sorry!" Max called, hurriedly turning his face away from the sight of me and running out of the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind himself.

Mortified, I used the toilet paper that I had unwound just before Max walked in on me to wipe my bottom and sat on the toilet absolutely mortified, breathing heavily and looking down at my bare feet and panties. Not only had Max seen me with my panties around my ankles as I sat pooing on the toilet, but he had also heard me fart.

As I farted then defecated again, I tried to think of a positive -- any positive -- and could find only two. Had this embarrassing incident happened exactly the same way two weeks earlier it was my time of the month, and Max would have seen a sanitary pad attached to the saddle of my panties, copious amounts of dark red menstrual blood all over the white napkin from my very heavy period. That would have been worse. Or if this morning it had happened a few seconds later when I was actually wiping my bottom. That also would have been worse, but not much worse.

Still looking for some solace, I thought about a horrifying experience two weeks ago when Donna and I arrived at school and both needed to use the toilet before classes started. We were both having our periods, which had unfortunate effects on our digestive systems better left unspoken about. The main girls' bathroom at our high school contained 40 toilets, and we went into two stalls next to each other, closing and locking the doors, pulling down our jeans and our panties, obviously with sanitary napkins attached, down to our ankles and sitting on the toilets. We were not alone, most of the stalls were occupied by teenage girls who like us were sitting on the toilets with their panties around their ankles.

Nothing unusual happened as Donna and I both urinated, but as we remained sitting on the toilets to empty our bowels things went awry. Obviously unknown to us, some boys had trapped a dozen live rats and brought them to school in a sack to play a practical joke by throwing them in the girls' bathroom, which they did. Rats, some of them bigger than guinea pigs, ran everywhere in the bathroom and over the top of and under the stall partitions, sending the girls into a panic, the screaming sounding like a horror movie.

Teachers and students ran over to see what the commotion was about, and as the female teachers and students were also too afraid of the rats to enter the girls' room, it was up to several jocks, male teachers and the grouchy, misanthropic African-American janitor to go into the female toilets filled with screaming, terrified and hysterical teenage girls to chase the rats out.

Some girls needed medical attention; one passing out from shock, one near catatonic and sobbing in a fetal position on the floor, another bashing her head on the stall door and concussing herself after leaping off the toilet and another suffering a severe asthma attack, so the bathroom remained full of people. Despite our embarrassment, Donna and I had no choice but to finish defecating and get toilet paper to wipe our vaginas and bottoms with men still in the bathroom. And the toilets were not exactly designed to give girls maximum privacy, there was a lot of space under the stall partitions and doors so anyone in the bathroom would have had no problems seeing our lowered panties and our period pads.

When we finally finished -- menstruating 18-year-old girls aren't exactly known for quick visits to the bathroom - flushed the toilets, pulled up our panties and jeans and emerged to wash our hands, the deputy female principal had now entered given the rats had finally been chased out. With the school determined to catch and punish the boys responsible for the prank, Donna and I were made to give statements -- very detailed statements -- of the morning's events, our humiliation now documented in writing.

But as horrifying and embarrassing as this experience was, I doubted anything could ever beat today. Having a guy walk in on me while I was on the toilet -- a guy I had taken quite a liking to -- was off the planet level of humiliation.

I again looked down at my feet and panties, wishing that Max had walked in on Wendy while she was on the toilet with her panties around her ankles having a shit. That would have served her right. But Wendy largely seemed immune to embarrassing situations. Never once could I ever remember Wendy having a time of the month mishap when she got her period, nor could I ever recall anything even remotely embarrassing happing to her when she went to the toilet, not even finding the bathroom with no toilet paper. She had never accidentally farted in front of other people, nor had Wendy ever been taken short and had to run into some bushes to pee. Life was most unfair, considering what an absolute bitch my older sister was. Continuing to sit on the toilet, I wished for a miracle salvation -- time travel. Why couldn't I go back in time five minutes and locked the toilet door and prevented this humiliation?

Finally I finished pooing and unwound five lengths of toilet paper to finish cleaning myself up. Standing up off the toilet, I put down the lid and flushed the toilet, then pulled up and adjusted my panties and smoothed down my sleep shirt to cover my underwear. With the sound of the toilet cistern refilling continuing, I walked on my bare feet to the sink, thoroughly washing my hands with plenty of soap and warm water.

Drying my hands on a towel, my tummy felt heavy with dread as I knew what I would have to do when I exited the bathroom. I would have to see Max knowing he had seen, heard or smelled far more of me than he ever would have dreamed of. My fair skin was already blushing as I walked up to him on my bare feet.

"Tina, I'm so sorry walking in on you like that," said Max.

"Max, it's okay, it was my fault I should have locked the door, I must have forgotten, so I'm sorry."

Max gave me a reassuring smile and laugh. "It's okay Tina, maybe we can just treat this like a learning experience. Tina needs to learn how to lock, Max needs to learn how to knock. Let's say it together, Tina lock, Max knock."

I smiled shyly and laughed along, feeling a bit better, and we exchanged a nervous, awkward handshake. Max headed for the bathroom, I walked towards my bedroom, while getting that feeling of having forgotten something important, like that sense of having forgotten to lock the door or turn off the iron.

As I did whenever I got these feelings, I told myself I was just imagining things. However, as Max stepped into the bathroom and closed and locked the door, I realized what I had forgotten and stopped short, horror filling every cell of my body. On the toilet cistern sat a spray can, where when the button was depressed the chlorofluorocarbons within would dispense the sweet smell of fresh spring flowers, covering any smells left by the person who had just used the toilet.

Mom was obsessive that everyone use it at all times, and given what she was like and that I didn't want to get in trouble, I used it religiously every time I had been pooing on the toilet or when I was on my period. However, this morning given what had happened I had been in such a state that I had forgotten, and now Max had walked into the bathroom which thanks to my lengthy session on the toilet smelled like an open sewer. I could only cringe as I returned to my bedroom after hearing Max spraying toilet freshener around the bathroom, to prevent himself suffocating on the smells from my bowel movements as he brushed his teeth and shaved.

*

Now dressed in a lightweight blue sweater with matching headband, flared jeans and white sneakers, I felt awkward at breakfast and found it hard to look Max in the eye after what happened. But Max, dressed in a polo neck shirt, jeans and sneakers, was a perfect gentleman. He was so nice, acting like the incident never happened and making me feel relaxed and comfortable despite my embarrassment. And it was lucky I felt this way, given the plans for the day.

Wendy was already at work, and Kevin had plans for the day and night. Some of his class were going on a geography field assignment that involved going hiking through the Pine Barrens checking out the topography and natural landforms and rivers. They would then sleep overnight in some dormitories used by scout groups, before returning home on Sunday.

Kevin certainly appeared to be looking forward to it as well he should as geography was his best subject in school, and to be honest it did sound kind of neat. I wish we'd had interesting overnight field excursions for geography when I was in junior high, but our geography teacher at that age was some old battle-ax who looked like she had been teaching since 1912 and believed that the best way to teach a class of teenagers was to write copious amounts of notes on the blackboard and the kids to copy them.

From over-hearing some of Kevin's conversations with his friends however, it seemed some of their reasons for looking forward to the overnight excursion were not so honorable, and missing church on Sunday morning was only a small part of this. Apparently some of the girls in their class looked like characters from a number of Hanna Barbera cartoons about teenagers who solved mysteries, and therefore going hiking and camping with such pretty girls was the main attraction of the excursion rather than the learning aspects. Plus one of the young female teachers supervising looked like she belonged on the TV show Charlie's Angels rather than teaching at a middle school in New Jersey, so this was an added bonus.

Never one to be quiet, Kevin who had finished his breakfast earlier due to needing to leave soon came running downstairs with his backpack and into the kitchen where I was sitting at the table with Mom, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Walsh and Max.

"Bye Mom, Dad, Tina, Mr. and Mrs. Walsh and Max," said Kevin. "See you tomorrow."

"So what time are you getting back on Sunday, Kevin?" Max asked.

"About noon," said Kevin. "What time are you going back to New York?"

"Around three, so we'll see you before you go," said Max.

A car horn honked outside, signaling Kevin's ride had arrived.

"That's me, I'd better be going," said Kevin.

"Take care buddy, and watch out for the Jersey Devil," laughed Max.

Kevin also laughed. "Yeah, yeah, ha, ha, ha. That thing's about as real as the Tooth Fairy."

"You never know, it could be lurking in the pine trees somewhere or hiding in a cave, perhaps waiting for a group of middle schoolers on an overnight geography excursion."

"Yeah, I think you watch too many horror movies, Max," said Kevin as he headed out the front door. "Bye!"

With that, Kevin was out of the picture for the next 24 hours, and Mr. Walsh turned to Max. "I see you've made a new friend there, Max."

"Yeah, Kevin's pretty cool," said Max.

"Well as Kevin's away for the most of the weekend and Wendy's at work, I'm afraid you're going to have to make do with Tina for company," said Dad, indicating me. I know my father hadn't meant to make me feel bad on purpose, but Dad wasn't the most tactful person at times, and the way he phrased that made me feel like I was third best option of three siblings. However I said nothing and Dad continued.

"But you're both going to have a lot of fun. It's such a nice sunny Saturday, and what better way to spend it than being golf caddies?"

Max and I looked at each other. True it was a nice day, but spending it trapesing around a golf course while Dad, Mr. Walsh, Dad's boss Mr. Skinner and some other guys played golf and talked business? Not nearly so great, but there were advantages. Mom and the other wives would spend the time in the club house, and given Mom didn't like the fact that she had given birth to a giantess, so would not want me to sit with her and the other women, which suited me just fine. And even better, I got to spend some time with Max.

*

At the golf club, Mom and Mrs. Walsh immediately met up with Mrs. Skinner and the other wives and they went into the function center to sit and talk. I noticed Mom run her finger along the table as she sat down, examining her digit for dust. It was so frustrating and embarrassing, Mom always did this whenever we went somewhere, even in other people's houses.

Out on the course, Dad's boss Mr. Skinner -- a tall bald man who looked a lot like President Gerald Ford -- obviously knew Henry Cooper had a teenage daughter over seven feet tall, but he didn't know that Sam Walsh, the sales manager of one of their most important clients had a son under five feet tall. He couldn't stop looking at the two caddies for the day, and this was also the case with the other two guys from Dad's company. One man had a beard and glasses, the other sported curly hair sort of like an Afro, and a rather large moustache.

It wasn't only the men in our group who found us distracting, ahead of us were a group of Italian-American men. The guy lining up his shot who with his longish hair and moustache looked a bit like the singer Tony Orlando was 100% concentration until a girl over seven feet and a boy less than five feet appeared in his line of sight. He was so astonished that his attempt to hit the ball resulted in the club sending the golf ball about three yards off the tee, his golfing buddies all clearly amused, this man clearly not so happy.

"Golf, I've never really understood the appeal," said Max, both of us getting bored as our group slowly made its way around the 18 hole course.

I shook my head. "Me either. I've played mini golf and that's fun, but proper golf I'm not keen on."

"I like mini golf too, but my summer job this year was at a country club on Long Island," said Max. "Some of the people there, mainly the rich old guys, were obsessed by their golf handicaps, like they were pros on the PGA tour. Some of the women were even worse, even bored rich housewives playing against each other. Talk about over competitive."

"Do you like to play any sports?" I asked Max.

"I kind of play football," said Max. He laughed. "Not American football, can you imagine me as a line-backer or quarterback? I like to play soccer, like they do in England. My school has a team, but we're pretty hopeless."

"I'm sure you're not that bad," I said.

"We won one game in 1976 and didn't win at all in 1977, and most of the games we lost about eight to one, so yeah, we are hopeless. How about you? Do you like any sports?"

"I'm not really into team sports, I run track a bit," I said. "People always think I'm going to be good at basketball, but I tried it when I was younger and I was terrible. Wendy has always been the one good at sports."

Max smiled. "On the subject of you and Wendy, I've never met two sisters before where one had blonde hair and the other red hair. You're like the two girls from ABBA, Agnetha and Anni-Frid."

I laughed. "Don't say that in front of Wendy whatever you do. We've heard people say it before, it really annoys her."

"Wendy doesn't find it funny then?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Wendy doesn't find anything funny."

"I don't want to speak badly about your sister, but this morning when I woke up I passed Wendy in the hall and said hello, and she looked at me but didn't say anything and went past, just seemed annoyed that I had spoken to her. I figured she wasn't a morning person or running late for work."

Again, I laughed. "I wouldn't take it personally, she's always like that and no, Wendy isn't a morning person. But then again, she's not an afternoon person, an evening person or a night person either."

"Can we look forward to your sister's charming company this evening then?"

I shook my head. "No, not tonight. Wendy always goes out with her boyfriend Chris and their friends from college to the disco or to a party most Saturday nights."

"What does Wendy's boyfriend do?"

"Officially, he's a college student like she is. Unofficially, Chris does whatever Wendy tells him to do."

Max laughed. "Sounds like my sister Karen and her boyfriend, Karen is just about the bossiest girl I've ever met. It's a pity Karen couldn't make the trip down to Jersey with us, I think she and Wendy would get along really well."

"I think they might from what you've said," I replied.

"Do you have any plans for this evening?" Max asked.

I shook my head. "No, my friend Donna's going out with her boyfriend Frankie to the drive-in tonight."

"I'd like to meet Donna, she sounds really nice."

"We grew up together, we've always been best friends. You'll get to meet her at church tomorrow morning, but today she's pretty busy with a shift at the supermarket in the morning, spending the afternoon with her Mom and her aunt and then going out with her boyfriend tonight."

"Which movie are they going to see?"

"An Elvis movie from the mid-1960s, the drive-in has been re-screening them since he died." I smiled. "Although if Frankie got the choice, they would go and watch Star Wars again."

Max laughed. "You know, I thought I might be the biggest Star Wars fan in America until I met your brother Kevin."

"Yeah, Kevin loves Star Wars," I affirmed. "So do Frankie and Donna's brother Joey."

Max got that mischievous look on his face again. "Do you think Donna would like it if we all piled in the back of Frankie's car and we all went to see Star Wars together?"

I laughed. "About as much as Wendy likes mornings."

"You know, talking about movies I saw a new one advertised this week," said Max. "It just got released this week, 'Earthquake Resort', it looks really good. How about we go and see it at the cinema? We can get some dinner beforehand."