Sunday Lunch, dear?byAdrian69702006©
As with 'Thursday in Jeans' I wrote this story some time ago and have posted elsewhere online. If you've already seen it, I must crave your indulgence. However if it's new to you I hope very much that you'll enjoy it. Please note, however, that if you're squeamish about bodily functions it may not be for you.
Anne pressed the button to lower her car window slightly. It wasn't a warm day but she needed fresh air badly as the farts she was doing were making the car smell and she simply needed to breathe. It wasn't entirely her fault as this morning circumstances had conspired to militate against her taking the dump she so badly needed.
For a start she'd woken at nine, conscious of a fullness in her bowels which was largely the natural consequence of not emptying them for a couple of days but was no doubt exacerbated by the excellent food at Mrs Hethersett's dinner party the evening before. The main course had been a fish pie to die for, and perhaps accepting a second helping hadn't been the wisest of moves. Realising that it was her turn to serve at church, Anne knew she had to be there and robed by 9.30 so there was no time for a dump, much as she'd have liked one. Instead she'd had to be content with the quickest of showers combined with a pee before dressing, running out of the house and jumping in the car. Brian, her husband, had already left for the golf course long by then, not that he'd have been any help if he'd been around.
After the service, which lasted just over an hour, Anne had needed to make a quick dash to the supermarket to stock up on basic provisions as the larder had run rather low. However it wasn't as quick a dash as she'd have liked. After having done battle at the checkout and trying to remember the PIN number of her latest credit card, she'd had to hurry on to Wendy's for coffee and a meeting to help plan the craft stall they were staging at the upcoming Christmas Fair in Wendy's village hall.
She'd known Wendy since their college days. In fact they'd been at Cambridge together in those distant days of the Eighties when the world seemed a much gentler, simpler place. Although the best of friends, they were both quite strong willed and Wendy could be particularly forthright when she chose to be. In fact she'd never made any secret of her disapproval of Anne's apparent laxness when it came to answering calls of nature. Anne for her part had resolved that she'd only ever use the loo when visiting Wendy if she was absolutely desperate. After all, if Wendy thought that 'she didn't go as often as she should', why disappoint her?
In need of a poo all morning, she'd actually begun farting twenty minutes earlier whilst still at Wendy's, and Wendy had asked her if she'd like to use the facilities ahead of hitting the open road. With a polite but characteristic firmness, Anne had declined the offer of her friend's lavatory. After all, her pride was at stake!
Now she was beginning to regret that decision. The struggle to hold on as yesterday's dinner made its bid for freedom whilst concentrating on the road, was becoming increasingly difficult and the smell emanating from under her grey and red tartan skirt was almost gassing her. Out in the open air it would have been more manageable but the car was a confined space and even after forty years experience of her own farts, some of which had been quite ripe in their day, Anne didn't believe she could smell quite so bad. Marlene Hethersett's fish pie must have contained something fairly exceptional!
After what seemed like hours but was really no more than another fifteen minutes, Anne passed the familiar welcome signs to her home town of Attleton Market and drove as quickly as she could to the smart Seventies cul-de-sac where the home she and Brian shared was to be found. Pulling into the drive, she noticed Brian's car was there too. It was unlike him to be back from golf - or rather what followed it -- quite so early. She had something rather more important on her mind though.
Delighted by the prospect of imminent relief, she parked up and stepped out of the car. It was then that Anne froze. A massive, explosive, fart escaped followed by a familiar crackling sound and Anne realised that she was shitting herself. Messing herself in her own driveway within yards of the bathroom felt terribly naughty and it was certainly inconvenient. She'd not done anything like it for ages. At the same time it felt strangely sexy, and the sheer relief of emptying her bowels after such a long fight to control them, was absolutely incredible. Her full cotton briefs had taken the strain and they were certainly no longer white!
She didn't know how Brian would react but there was only one thing to do and that was to find out. Opening the front door she waddled into the hallway, almost colliding with Brian as she did so. Thinking it would be best to take the lead and initiate the conversation, she made a move to get in first.
"Hi Brian. I wasn't expecting you to back so soon. Normally you like to linger a bit at the nineteenth hole if I'm not mistaken!"
"I know Anne. It's just that I had this strange impulsive thought that my wife might like to be taken out for Sunday lunch for once. It is our anniversary next week you know, darling. By the way, what's that awful smell?"
"Thanks Brian. I'm afraid I've had rather an accident."
Brian's face was a mixture of panic and curiosity.
"What do you mean by an accident?"
"I'm afraid I've messed my pants."
Feigning mock exasperation didn't come easily to Brian. Pretending to be cross with the wife he loved when he wasn't was difficult but he decided to give it a try, struggling to keep a straight face.
"Oh Anne! You're a grown woman for goodness sake. You ought to know better."
Realising that it was an act, Anne played along with it.
"I'm really, really, sorry. I think it was something to do with that fish pie I had last night at Marlene's."
Brian couldn't help looking slightly smug.
"You mean too much of it! Oh dear. I imagine you won't feel like going out for lunch then. Perhaps I'd better phone the restaurant and cancel."
Anne smiled at her husband.
"Oh really, Brian! Don't be such a drama queen. There's nothing wrong with me that a good clean up, a shower and a change of clothes won't put right. You can still take me out if you like. Why not come up to bathroom and give me a hand? I could use some help."
Realising that she probably wouldn't take 'no' for an answer Brian obediently followed his wife to the bathroom.