The Day Scotty Saw Too Much

I had been listening to Johnny and Heather's conversation and recalled the way Johnny had indeed made me paranoid as a child with his tales of boogeymen coming out of toilets to kill children and Mexicans hiding in the bushes planning to abduct me and take me back to Mexico. What a nice brother Johnny was. But I had been paying attention to the wrong part of the conversation entirely. Heather had said that she needed to go to the bathroom. We only had one bathroom in this house. This meant that Heather would come into this bathroom to use the toilet. The same bathroom I was currently concealed in.

By the time all of this information hit me, it was too late for me to do anything. I could see Heather through a tiny gap in the shower curtains as she entered the bathroom carrying her purse and closed and locked the bathroom door behind herself, before walking towards the toilet.

Heather looked pretty as a picture as always, her long blonde hair back in a neat ponytail with a pink ribbon, a white short-sleeved blouse that accentuated her big teenage breasts, a pink scarf around her neck and on her bottom half a long pink poodle skirt that matched the color of her scarf and her hair ribbon. Her feet were clad in white shoes and cute white bobby sox.

Now wasn't the time for me to think about how nice Heather looked, I reminded myself as panic spread through my body. I had to do something now to stop this situation from getting even further out of hand, before it was too late. I would stand up, open the shower curtain and emerge, and tell the truth, which was that I had hit my elbow leading to me fainting in the bathtub. It would be awkward to put it mildly, and I doubted Johnny would be well pleased, but it was the truth and remaining behind the curtain would be far worse for everyone, especially for Heather. I moved to get up before Heather had a chance to sit down on the toilet, but unfortunately I was a second too late and my opportunity to get out with no harm done went by.

Heather stood in front of the toilet and set down her purse on the edge of the vanity and checking that she had enough toilet paper. There was over half a roll on the holder so she would be fine in this regard. Then Heather grimaced and rubbed her tummy, before she let out a massive fart, one of the loudest cases of anybody passing gas I had ever heard.

I was stunned. I had obviously never seen, heard or smelled Heather fart before, but she had done just this right in front of me, not knowing I was there of course, and the ripe smells from Heather's rectum soon reached my nostrils, the odor like rotting cabbages. Moreover, there was strange sound from between Heather's legs when she farted, a muffled bubbling sound. That was sure strange. There was no way I could emerge now, no way at all, I had to stay hidden.

Heather put down the toilet seat, again massaged her tummy and stood in front of the toilet. I could see Heather through the narrow gap in the shower curtains but she of course could not see me, which was a good thing. My eyes were wide as Heather lifted up her pink poodle skirt, showing that underneath she wore white cotton full brief panties.

I reminded myself not to look at Heather's panties, this was private, the poor girl was about to go to the toilet, I should not be watching this. But I could not look away, just kept staring at my crush as Heather took hold of the elastic waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her ankles. In my underpants, to my horror I was developing an erection very rapidly. Once more my conscience reminded me not to look at Heather in such a personal situation where she needed her privacy and that it was wrong for me to get an erection over something like this, but I was not able to stop either.

With her white panties down around her ankles, her white shoes and her white bobby sox visible and her long skirt hitched up, I learned that Heather was definitely a natural blonde, I could distinctly see the blonde curls that grew in abundance on Heather's feminine mound. I tried to look away from Heather's crotch, but could not, my attention was all on what else was in her private female area.

Around her waist and which would have been covered by her panties was a white elastic belt. From the front of the belt was an appendage, attached to which was the front of a white sanitary napkin. My heart raced so fast that I wondered if an 18-year-old guy could fall victim to a heart attack. Heather was wearing a sanitary napkin. This meant she was menstruating, she actually had her period. Heather had the curse, was getting her monthly visitor or was experiencing her ladies' days.

No, I thought to myself, this was impossible. Heather didn't have her period, girls as perfect as Heather didn't get their periods, there had to be another explanation why she was wearing a pad. It was only when Heather reached up to her waist and pulled down her sanitary belt to her knees and the attached pad obviously came down with it that I saw the 100 percent irrefutable evidence that Heather was on her period.

Heather's sanitary pad, long and thick like a miniature mattress was absolutely covered in blood, massive red stains, like there had been a dreadful automobile accident or somebody had committed an unspeakable crime. It was not like the color of normal blood, Heather's menses were dark red in color, like somebody had poured red wine all over Heather's period pad. But of course, nobody had poured red wine into Heather's sanitary napkin. The blood was there because Heather's uterus was shedding its lining like it did every 28 days, and her menstrual flow had made its way down her birth canal and out of her vagina, the pad absorbing the blood and preventing it from staining Heather's pretty white panties.

I continued to watch wide-eyed as Heather, with her sanitary belt and attached napkin around her knees, sat down on the toilet, and wriggled her bare bottom so she was comfortable on the toilet seat. I thought about how a few things made sense now. One, Heather had seemed to be in a bad mood at school the past few days, not really angry but a bit irritable, and on edge. From overhearing conversations between my cousins, I had heard that girls did get moody just before their periods, this must have been what was happening with Heather.

Two, Heather who was very sports-minded did not partake in last period girls' gym class yesterday with the other seniors, rather she had taken her books to the library to study calculus. Of course she couldn't have done sport while she had the curse, it was would have been very inconvenient and probably impossible for her to do the exercises required with a massive bulky sanitary napkin between her legs. And if it had come loose from her belt, then the poor girl would have suffered no end of embarrassment.

Three, when Heather had farted when she first came into the bathroom it had sounded weird. But as she had the pad between her legs, when she passed wind the gas from her anus would have gone into her pad, and probably in all sorts of directions along the pad's cover. Given that girls were obviously designed differently than boys down there and that there was blood involved, no wonder it sounded strange. I stared at Heather's feminine napkin in fascination, unable to believe I was looking at something so forbidden and private.

It was quiet in the bathroom, this ending seconds later as I heard Heather start to urinate, her pee making tinkling sounds as it went into the porcelain toilet bowl and splashed into the toilet water. I was close to the toilet and Heather was sitting on it with her knees apart, so I could see her pubic hair and pussy as she was peeing.

I could not stop staring at Heather's vagina as she continued to piss, the pink lips of Heather's pussy as perfect as the rest of her. I could see menstrual blood seeping out of her genitals, and the redness on her vulva. Had Heather drunk a whole bottle of soda before coming round here? By the amount she was peeing, it seemed possible.

Finally though, Heather's pee stream died down and then abated, before a few splashes in the toilet water indicated she was done peeing. I watched as Heather reached for the toilet roll and unwound herself a few sheets, opened her legs more and applied the toilet tissue to her vagina, me seeing it soaked with her urine and stained by her period before Heather dropped it into the bowl and remained seated on the toilet.

My erection throbbed as I again stared at Heather's pubic area, at her lowered panties and at her soiled sanitary pad attached to the belt around her knees. Heather reached across and picked up her purse, reaching inside and pulling out two objects. The first was a brown paper bag, the second was a new sanitary napkin, which Heather unfolded, holding the white oblong feminine object in her fingers.

With eyes as wide as saucers, I watched as Heather leaned forward on the toilet and unfastened her period pad from her sanitary belt, before placing the blood soaked napkin into the paper bag, which she put on the floor near her feet. Holding out her pristine new pad with the narrow end at the front and the wide end at the back, Heather attached it to her sanitary belt and secured it in place through the hoops. I couldn't believe I had just observed a chick changing her period pad, but I had done just that.

The process of changing one's sanitary pad looked quite a complicated process, surely it would be easier if one could simply affix one's pad to one's panties and pull them up, but what would I know? I was a boy, I never had to deal with anything like this. I sure didn't envy Heather and all other non-pregnant women, having to do this one week each month and a number of times each day. Did all women bleed as heavily as Heather during their time of the month? Little wonder girls referred to their periods as 'the curse', especially when one factored in things such as menstrual cramps, which Heather seemed to be having some problems with as she squirmed on the toilet seat, massaging her abdomen and grimacing.

It felt so forbidden, so bad, so wildly exciting to observe something so private and feminine and the erection that throbbed in my underpants was evidence of this. I told myself that this was all wrong, Heather was my friend and I should respect her privacy and not be turned on by this one bit, period! Actually, period was inappropriate in the current situation, full stop was more appropriate, definitely not period at all.

My conscience telling me not to look at Heather came to nothing and I stared at my classmate's crotch, her blonde pubic hair and all the blood on her slim pink vaginal lips. Heather reached for the toilet paper and used some to wipe her pussy, blood all over the tissue when she dropped it into the bowl.

I thought that Heather was finished and would stand up, but she remained sitting on the toilet. I felt light-headed. Was Heather about to have a poo? No, surely not, Heather didn't poop, she was way too pretty. But she did pee, menstruate and pass gas, and my more logical part of my brain told me that of course Heather emptied her bowels, no matter how pretty she was still human.

I should have been dreading the sight, sounds and smells of Heather pooing on the toilet, thought of it with revulsion, but instead I found myself excited beyond belief at the thought of watching my older brother's girlfriend defecate.

My wait wasn't long. Heather's face took on a cute look, and she sat farting on the toilet three times in a row, the flatulent noises echoing in the bowl. Hearing Heather passing wind drove me wild, and it was only a sign of things to come. When Heather farted a fourth time, her anus made a squelching noise, there was a look of straining on her pretty face, followed by what sounded like an avalanche of Heather's poo going into the toilet.

The sounds of Heather pooping stopped, the pretty teenager looking behind herself into the toilet. Obviously Heather could see her own feces and her menstrual blood in the bowl, I could not but wished that I could.

Heather reached for the toilet tissue, and my heart was pounding as I watched her tear off some sheets of toilet paper from the roll, fold them up, lift her bottom off the seat and wipe herself front to back. The toilet tissue came away from between Heather's legs with dark red spots of period blood at the front, and a massive amount of her messy brown poo at the back. It looked like there was peanut butter all over Heather's toilet paper.

Heather got more toilet paper and wiped her bottom a second time, and this toilet tissue suffered the same fate as the first length she had used, Heather had absolutely shit all over it when cleaning herself, me in disbelief that a menstruating 18-year-old girl's dirty toilet paper could be sexually exciting me. Perhaps I had hit my head on the bathtub when I passed out and was concussed? Maybe this wasn't happening at all? Possibly I was dreaming all this, and would awaken in a few minutes alone in the house.

I continue to watch Heather through the narrow gap in the curtains as she repositioned herself on the toilet and again moved her bowels, me hearing the plopping sounds in the toilet bowl as her feces splashed into the toilet water. The smell of Heather's shit drifting out of the toilet bowl should have cooled me down, it smelled atrocious like her fart earlier, just like rotten cabbages.

Unfortunately the smell of girl poo -- Heather's girl poo -- proved to have a sort of aphrodisiac effect on me, and I could feel my penis taking on a mind of its own in my underpants. Any more of this, and I would wet my pants with a substance far denser than urine.

Again, I watched Heather wiping her bottom, her toilet paper emerging from her vulva and anus stained red and brown with menses and messy, smelly poo. Again, Heather emptied her bowels, her poo splashing into the toilet and joining the excrement that she had already defecated. As the sound of pooing abated, Heather did another loud fart and this time she seemed to be done.

Not daring to blink in case I missed something, I watched as Heather unwound toilet paper seven times in a row and wiped her dirty bottom clean. She sure was fastidious about proper toilet hygiene and wiping herself clean after moving her bowels. The amount of Heather's poo smeared on the toilet paper diminished each time she wiped, and when the last piece of toilet tissue came away from Heather's anus with no smelly brown poop stains, Heather seemed to have cleaned herself up and therefore was finished on the toilet.

This was confirmed as Heather stood up off the toilet and with her poodle skirt safely hitched up and away from the menstruating teenager's vagina Heather put down the toilet lid and pressed the handle on the toilet to flush it. The sound of Heather flushing the toilet filled the bathroom, and continued as the cistern refilled.

Heather turned around momentarily and I was treated to the wonderful sight of her bare bottom, the fair peach-shaped cheeks of Heather's rear end a wonderful sight to behold. The view only got better as Heather, still with her panties down around her ankles and her sanitary belt around her knees bent forward to pick up the paper bag containing her soiled period pad. Heather's buttocks parted, and I got to see all of her vagina between her legs and even better the tight, star-fish shape of Heather's anus. It was hard to believe that the strong smells from Heather's rectum came out of such a tight little opening.

Heather straightened up, turned in my direction again so I could see her full triangle of blonde pubic hair, then pulled up her sanitary belt and adjust her new period pad in place between her legs so it was comfortable around her genitals and in the right position to catch her period blood as it seeped out of her vagina.

With her period pad and belt securely in place, Heather reached down to her ankles and pulled up her panties, me watching with great interest as she adjusted them around both her front bottom and her back bottom, the white cotton panties completely covering her feminine protection and belt.

Smoothing down her pink poodle skirt, Heather walked towards the sink, turned on the taps and washed her hands thoroughly with soap and water. The sound of the toilet cistern refilling abated, and now there only came a whistling sound from the toilet.

Heather took a sniff of the air and grimaced, obviously the smell of her poo wasn't to her liking. It shouldn't have been to my liking either, but try telling that to my penis. The tall blonde teenager put walked over to the bathroom window, opening it to allow fresh Florida fall air to flow into the bathroom and banish her toilet smell.

Picking up her purse and the paper bag containing her used napkin, Heather opened the bathroom door only for Johnny to be standing there. "I was getting worried about you, honey," he laughed, entering the bathroom wearing a white tee-shirt, blue denim jeans and black boots. "Thought that maybe the boogeyman came out of the toilet and got you after all."

Heather laughed, and put down her purse and the paper bag. "You've been reading too many fairytales, Johnny. Or watching those science fiction shows on TV that my younger brother likes."

Johnny took a sniff of the air in the bathroom, the smells from his girlfriend's bottom still very obvious. "Whoa baby, what happened in here? Did your Mom dose you up on Caster oil this morning or something?" He held his nose and laughed.

Heather blushed, but also laughed along with her boyfriend. "Yeah, sorry about that. I have girls' problems again, you know that time of the month, all part of the curse."

"I'm very glad boys don't get the curse," said Johnny, who had now stopped holding his nose.

"Yes, I'm sure you are," said Heather. Talking about menstruation must have had an effect on Heather's subconscious as I saw her discretely adjust her sanitary belt through her poodle skirt and her panties.

Johnny then said. "Are you sure it's been a whole four weeks since it was the last time it was your um, ah ladies' time? It seems shorter than that."

"Most definitely know that, I think I should know when I get my period," said Heather. "And you sound like my Mom, she always refers to my period as my 'ladies time.'"

"We don't get to have much fun when you've got your period, Heather," lamented Johnny.

"Me a lot less fun than you obviously," quipped Heather sarcastically. "Plus if you think about it, you want me to get my period. If I don't, then it means the things you buy at the barber's shop when you're not having a haircut have let us down, and we have a big problem on our hands that will only get bigger nine months later." She then put a smile on her pretty face. "Well, we can't go to lovers' lane and do some of the things we do in the back of your car, but we can still have fun."

With a seductive look on her face, Heather sat on the small bench near the toilet and held out her feet towards her boyfriend, me able to see her panties up her skirt as she did so. "My feet aren't off limits."

Johnny grinned and chuckled. "No, they aren't, are they?"

I continued to watch in amazement as my brother removed first his girlfriend's pristine white shoes, then her bobby sox leaving her barefoot. I had of course seen Heather barefoot before and always thought she had pretty and sexy feet as did other nice looking girls I saw barefoot at the beach, the swimming pool or wearing no shoes in movies or on television. I thought this made me a freak and I of course did not tell anybody about this.

However, as I watched it was clear that my older brother liked girls' bare feet too -- well Heather's bare feet anyway. Johnny knelt in front of Heather, and he kissed and caressed her bare feet, stroking her soles, arches and her bare toes. He took his barefoot girlfriend's left foot in his mouth, sucking her pinky toe, then sucked all her toes up to her left big toe. Then it was Heather's right foot's turn, only this time Johnny started at Heather's right big toe, and worked his way down to Heather's cute little right pinky toe.