Problem With My Aim

From: Anonymous


About 1993 I was teaching in a school and really, really hard up. I was living in the house of one of the other teachers, a woman who was about 15 years older than me. The situation was awkward, because she quite fancied me, and was basically letting me live there because she hoped something would develop, and I wasn't keen on that at all. So I felt like a complete bastard, because I knew that I was taking advantage of her, but I didn't really have any money or any choice.

One night after a school function we all went to the pub and had quite a few; to be honest, I was completely wrecked. When we got home I staggered off to bed, and slept peacefully until the morning. Or so I thought. When I woke up, feeling pretty ropey, I called through the door of the bedroom of the woman I was staying with, asking her how she felt. Her reply was "A hell of a lot better than you were at four o'clock this morning!" I was a bit non-plussed, and asked her what she meant. She then proceeded to tell me what I had done:

I had got up at four, staggered out the door of my room, smashed open the door to her room really loudly, waddled over to her bed side table, pulled my dick out and pointed it at the table and started to dribble on it. Then I obviously thought the better of it, and crashed through to the toilet behind her room, plonked myself down on the throne, and with a lot of grunting, farting and carrying on, dropped an enourmous soupy diarrhoea turd in her toilet complete with pebble-dash over the bowl (and a teeny-weeny bit on the seat), after which I crashed back off to bed (without bothering to flush, needless to say). While she was telling me about it, I could see that the evidence was all still there to support her version....... And this in front of a woman whose good graces I really needed. The only mercy in the whole sorry business is that I don't remember a thing about it.


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