igottadoodoo743

[igottadoodoo743]

In the quiet, unassuming neighborhood of Willow Creek, the afternoon sun painted a warm glow over Mr. Jenkins' meticulously manicured lawn. The gentle hum of distant lawnmowers and the occasional chirp of a bird provided the only interruptions to the tranquil scene. Inside his well-kept bungalow, a man named Gregory sat at his kitchen table, sweat beads glistening on his furrowed brow as he stared at the half-eaten sandwich in front of him. His hand hovered over the plate, a sandwich that had once promised a delightful reprieve from the monotony of the day, now a potential culprit for his discomfort.

Gregory had always prided himself on his cast-iron stomach, never one to be taken down by a simple meal. Yet today, something felt off. A subtle rumble grew in his belly, a sensation that started as a whisper and gradually crescendoed into a symphony of discomfort. He had eyed the sandwich suspiciously, the mayo perhaps a tad too yellow, the meat a tad too warm. He had convinced himself it was just indigestion, a mere hiccup in his otherwise robust digestive tract.

With a grimace, he pushed the plate away and stood up, the chair scraping against the tiles. His stomach protested the movement, a twisting knot that tightened with every step he took. He ambled over to the fridge, the cold air offering a brief respite from the sweltering heat outside, and grabbed a bottle of ginger ale, hoping the fizz would settle his stomach. As he unscrewed the cap, his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, noting the time. He had an appointment in an hour, but the relentless crescendo of his gut's complaints suggested he might not make it.

The living room beckoned with the comforting embrace of the couch, a place where he often sought refuge from the world's troubles. He eased himself onto the cool cushions, his body tense as he awaited the inevitable. He had hoped that lying down might ease the pressure, but the moment he reclined, his stomach decided to up the ante. A gurgle, a churn, and suddenly, the room felt much warmer, the air thick with anticipation. The ginger ale remained untouched on the coffee table, the bubbles fizzing in protest of their confinement.

Gregory's face paled as he realized the gravity of the situation. He was about to have an accident, and not the kind you could easily clean up with a mop and a good attitude. The cramps grew more intense, his body clenching and unclenching in a futile dance. His hand reached for his phone to call for help, his thumb hovering over the emergency contact, when the dam finally broke.

The sound of his bowels letting go was a wet, unpleasant surprise that seemed to echo through the stillness of the house. Panic flooded his senses as he felt the warm liquid spread across the couch cushion, soaking through the fabric and into the foam beneath. The smell hit him next, a foul reminder of the body's cruel sense of humor.

Gregory's eyes grew wide as his stomach lurched again, sending another wave of hot, wet misery through his bowels. He gripped the couch cushions, his knuckles turning white as he fought against the involuntary spasms. The diarrhea was thick and unyielding, a stark contrast to the flimsy fabric of his boxers that was no match for the deluge. He felt it seep down the back of his thighs, a cold, sticky mess that no amount of self-pity could warm.

He tried to stand, to make a break for the bathroom, but his legs refused to cooperate. The cramps had turned into a vice-like grip, leaving him momentarily paralyzed. A guttural groan escaped his lips as he collapsed back onto the couch, his dignity as elusive as a mirage in the desert of despair. He could feel the warmth spreading, the stickiness reaching new heights of unpleasantness. The smell grew stronger, a noxious cloud that seemed to cling to him, a silent yet potent declaration of his defeat.

[igottadoodoo743]

The Business Meeting

Darnell was sitting at the desk, listening to his boss drone on and on about the business. His stomach has been hurting, and he was gassy, but there was not much he could do. On more than one occasion he discreetly passed a huge fart through his thick ass cheeks and through his tight slacks.

He shifted in his seat, looking at the clock. Just 30 minutes left, then he will be able to make it to the bathroom.

“Darnell, are you paying attention?” His boss snapped. His boss was a stunning woman, which made this so much worse, as he did not want to show any kind of desperation in front of such a gorgeous woman.

“Y-yes, The stocks are up by 13%,, ” Darnell said, copying what his boss just said verbatim. But to be honest, he was not paying too much attention.

His stomach started to make squelching noises with 10 minutes left, and he knew he was going to have to get to a bathroom quickly.

The minute ticked by, but he was close. The boss ended the meeting early, which caused him to sigh quietly in relief.

He gathered his stuff and quickly left with the rest, feeling the pressure building on his anus as he scampered to the toilet. His cheeks were clenched, walking briskly to the toilets.

“Darnell, Hey!” His manager said.

Darnell stopped, despite his ever growing urgency, and talked to his manager.

“Come on, the lecture is just starting!” His manager said, pointing his thumb towards the hallway behind him.

“Sure, let me jus-” Darnell started

“There is no time,” his manager said, grabbing him by the shoulders and guiding him through the hallway.

Darnell, having no other choice, corked his anus and followed his manager. His cheeks were clenched tightly as he was walking down the hall, the pain in this stomach growing.

They got into the new office, everyone staring at them both as they walked through the door. Darnell quickly found a seat, feeling his stomach start to twist.

He tried to look nonchalant as he walked to the chair and sat down. However, bending to sit down forced his cheeks apart, which increased his urgency tenfold. His anus twitched as he pinched his sphincter hard, he could feel a large amount of shit piled up right behind his hole.

The meeting started, and he could not sit still. He was sweati and fidgeting, it was just an hour long, he could make it, right?

The minute slowly crawled by, and the pressure was increasing by the second. He tried to listen, but was ultimately unable to. All of his efforts was put into keeping his hole closed tight.

30 minutes into the lecture, and he was in trouble. His hand gripped his stomach, and he was trembling in the effort to hold it all in. The only reason he has not shit himself yet was because he was sitting down and wearing tight pants.

His anus started to relax, despite all of his efforts, and a small amount of poop started to ooze out. Horrified, he tried to hold it back, the creamy shit rubbing against the crack of his thick beefy cheeks.

His stomach gurgled loudly, and then wind broke.

PBBBBBLLLTTT!

As soon as his farted his anus opened wide, and wave after wave of creamy shit filled the inside of his white briefs, spreading down his leg and up his crack.

Everyone in the office stared at him, covered in sweat and his own waste, before Darnell slowly stood up and waddled awkwardly to the bathroom. Each step caused the shit to shift. He had to stop halfway to the bathroom and double over as another wave of mushy shit exploded out of his ass, expanding the back of his pants.

Welp… time to find a new job…

*+*+*+*+*+

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[igottadoodoo743]

Tyrone couldn’t hold it

Last week I went out for some food with my friend Tyrone. He’s a super muscular guy, really smooth dark skin and an amazing firm ass. We went for Mexican and had to drive about 30 minutes back to our apartments. On the way, Tyrone started farting like crazy. I tried to ignore it but then it kept happening and I started to laugh and asked if he was okay. And he was like nah man… I gotta go, like now. So by this time we are like 15 mins from home so I say to him to hold on we’ll be there soon. He’s sweating perfusly and then all of a sudden he’s like “man fuck". At first, I thought he was being dramatic but then I smelt a strong odor of shit, Tyrone had messed his gym shorts. He said it was a lot and that it had gotten around his balls and was coming up his back. I immediately got a hard on but I had to try to hide it because he’s straight and he would have probably thought I was super weird. So finally we get to our apartment and he’s so embarrassed. He says this has never happened before and he feels like such a pussy for shitting his pants. I tried to tell him it happened to me before so it’s no problem. He then showered and cleaned up. While he was showering I jacked off to him and what happened. God it was so hot. I busted the fattest nut because of his ordeal. The only thing that could have made things better is if I could have shit fucked him.

[igottadoodoo743]

True Trucker Story - A Hardy Buddy Dump

I used to deliver equipment around the state, and one day I stopped at a Hardy's to grab lunch. I went to the bathroom for a piss. It was a single-person bathroom with a urinal, toilet, and sink. I didn't lock the door, as I rarely do in public if I'm just peeing. As I start to piss, the door flies open, and in walks this rugged man, mid 40s, with buzzed hair. He sees me and looks desperate. He asked me politely to hurry up, as he really needs to go. I responded with "I'll be here a minute... do what you need to do." What happened next, I never would have expected. He comes in, locks the door, and rushes over to the toilet. He drops his jeans and takes a seat. As soon as his ass hit the seat, he let loose a torrent of sloppy shit, and the room smelled up instantly. I finished pissing, walked over to the sink, and told the man that I'd be out as soon as I finished washing my hands. He was still releasing bouts of runny shit. However, while I was washing my hands, he looked up at me and asked if I was the truck driver. I told him I was, and he proceeded to ask me about my work (in between grunts, of course.)I went to leave to give him privacy, but he continued chatting away, so I sat on the floor across from the toilet while we continued to talk, and he continued to strain to finish his dump. After about 5 minutes, I left him to finish his business. (Nothing sexual happened; he was straight.) After he came out, he came over to my table and we had lunch together and joked about our chance encounter. It was an experience I'll never forget!

[igottadoodoo743]

Dude at Walmart

I was in Walmart recently and I had a really unique experience. I was just grabbing a few things and checking out the sale stuff. While taking a walk through the electronics section near the back, I see this attractive, middle aged Hispanic guy. He’s got a nice thick beard and some muscular arms. He’s in sneakers, a tank top and a pair of gym shorts. They were a pair of shiny, grey shorts which showed his big, round, muscular butt. He looked pretty athletic for a guy his age.

He looked frantic. I could sense he was in discomfort. Then he stopped the closest employee, after a brief exchange and a pointed finger, the man quickly walked towards the back of the store to where the bathroom was. I was intrigued and decided to follow. As I kept a safe distance behind him, it soon became apparent that he needed the restroom.

I figured I had to pee anyway, so I’d go see where this was going. I followed directly behind him and entered the bathroom. At this point I’m a few feet away from this guy. As the bathroom door swings open, I hear two loud farts, wet and juicy. He immediately looks back, placing his hand against his firm butt as if trying to hold in the eruption about to happen.

We make eye contact for two seconds before he looks away and heads directly for the only stall. It’s a handicap stall and it’s to the side of the urinal. He’s trying his best to get his pants down quickly without bringing attention to himself. During this time I tried my best to be as cool as possible and unzipped my pants at the urinal. He was in such a rush that he forgot to close the stall door. Then it happened. He barely shoves down his pants to his ankles, showing his Hanes tighty whites. Before he can grab the waistband of his underwear to pull them down, orange-brown stool fills his underwear.

I immediately turn away so as to not meet his gaze as he turns around to check out the damage. He’s totally defeated. All I hear is the stall door slam shut as he begins the clean up process. The stall doors are pretty high off the ground so I can see just above his ankles. I finish peeing and begin to wash my hands, slowly. I can see his underwear and shorts are now on the floor. He must have had diarrhea because it ran out of his underwear and down his legs, into his shorts. I could tell the shorts were done for.

As I continue to wash my hands, I hear him pulling off rolls of toilet paper in an attempt to clean himself up. Then I hear him speak for the first time. He whispers, “ahhhhhh no, is that really all the paper in here.” I knew this was my opportunity. I quickly looked around to see the hand towel dispenser full of paper towels. I quickly unrolled as much as I could. Then I cleared my throat, shoved the bunch of paper over the handicap stall door and knocked on the stall door. Without hesitation I could feel his hand grip the paper and take it from me.

I paused then asked, rather awkwardly, do you need anything else my guy? He paused for a bit then simply replied quietly with, “Some new shorts... I’m a 34 waist.” I replied with cool and immediately left to go to the clothing section. Luckily I soon found a pair of black gym shorts in his size. Then I decided to grab a pack of baby wipes (because I know how useful they can be in a messy situation). I paid and returned to the bathroom. Knocking again I placed the bag over the stall door. He thanked me and I left.

[igottadoodoo743]

Thinking about nightclubs today. Imagine there’s a nightclub selling cheap house-brewed beer. On one particular night something goes wrong with the brewing process and the batch gets contaminated. People are at the club drinking it early on in the night, but it’s until around 2:30am that the bacteria that infiltrated the brew starts doing its work. Guys go rushing to the bathrooms, of course there’s not a lot of room. A lucky handful get toilets, urinals and sinks to explode into. Imagine a crowd of guys pressed up against the door to the gents toilets, pleading to get in and relieve themselves. Anyone who’s been clubbing knows that as the night goes on guys worry less about presentation, its not uncommon to see jeans sagging halfway down their asses or even lower. Going back to the crowd at the toilet door: imagine all these guys with the sagging pants. You can see brown stains start to appear under their cracks, hands pushing against their backsides as if that could do anything to stop it. People would steal ice buckets from behind the bar to do their business in, some would ruin their girlfriends favourite handbag by emptying them out onto the floor and using it as a makeshift toilet, some would even take a chance cups and empty glasses (of course they would not be able to hold anywhere near enough crap). The dance floor would be covered in little puddles where people have lost the fight with their bowels and the streets outside the club would be lined with guys shitting anywhere they can find - bins, drains and of course dainty corners on the sides of buildings. Heaven.

[igottadoodoo743]

Imagine a thief who stole jewellery and got caught swallowing all of it to hide the evidence. He is now being kept in a room with no toilet. The authorities wait for the valuables to pass through but need to release him after a certain amount of time if he doesn’t shit. Totally standard procedure in this imaginary world. Eventually, nature starts to call and he fights desperately against his body’s urges to push. He manages to hold his shit in for days.

The thieving bastard can’t help but grin and relax when he learns he’s about to be set free.  It’s a costly mistake. A violent grumbling visibly quakes his gut. The guard watches from the doorway as the thief frantically grinds his ass into the bench to stop a thick loaf from squeezing out.

Keep reading

[igottadoodoo743]

Do you think it was rape

*Years ago i hooked up with real hood masculine so called drug dealer who claimed 2 be str8 after he spent 3days in jail*

So he walks to my hotel room we smoking n he start telling me how he is str8 but just like dick in his ass from time to time. so im just like oh ok thats wats up n told em gon get ready 4 sum dick. so he stands up n gets undressed n dude lowkey mustve been homeless or sum cuz dude draws were FILTHY AF shits stains piss stains etc. so he bend over on the bed n he was so thick n small his ass was already spread exposing his hairy ripe ass (shit had my dick on BRICK) so i starting fucking and he was taking it too tryna muffle his moans n make sure they were too high pitched which made me fuck em harder just so theyd get louder. after a while his ass was good n open creaming hard on my dick so i put my weight on his back n digging deeper inside him until his ass started farting loud pushing all the cream n cum out his ass. then i hit his spot and dude went full bitch mode begging me to slow down n stop but i wasnt goin to i started going faster n harder making his ass fart worse while his ass gapes open the smell of shit gettin stronger. old dude is tryna runaway from it tryna push me off but he was too small 2 try get me off him. then he start yelling at me to stop cuz im bout make him shit on me but i was too much in the zone i was like fuck it do it and he just keep repeating no stop no stop ima shit on u ima shit on u . i slapped his ass n was like do it then bitch idgaf u gon take this dick . i thought the nigga was just tryna get me to stop didnt think he was serious all i remember was him saying ight bet fuck u then all of a sudden this dude went straight EXPLOSIVE diarrhea on my dick shooting hot warm chucky soupy shit all on me i was shocked AF but it felt so good i cudnt stop stroking his ass and it wasn’t long b4 i busted hard n deep in his ass… the 1st time i ever got shitted on i was so shocked it happened but cudnt focus cuz i was surprised how hard/good it felt busting in all that hot liquid shit. ol dude was pissed af .. homie bitched bout it the whole time he took a shower until he left saying i raped him ….. all i cud say was that ass was too good to stop n i lost control …. ……

[igottadoodoo743]

Imagine a pilot and a co-pilot have both eaten meals that are past their prime. They're about half way through their flight when their bellies begin to whine and gurgle. Unfortunately for them, neither can run to the toilet. Strong turbulence keeps them in the cockpit and they fight to keep the plane as stable as possible.

The older, gruff pilot drills their gas into the chair. Too preoccupied with their work to worry about holding it all in. Their young, doe-eyed co-pilot absolutely refuses to push out their farts, even as their belly balloons painfully. It's way too embarrassing and they cry out in shame every time they lose control and a flubbering blast slips out of their bottom.

As the plane quakes in the sky, their farts get wetter and wetter. Each time they're jostled violently their dirty holes involuntarily squirt shit into their underwear. The stench hangs so heavily in the cockpit you could practically cut the pungent air with a knife. Endless bouts of turbulence threaten to shake loose their loads. Their bellies feel like kegs of soda, shaken up and ready to explode into their pants at any moment.

And that they do. The co-pilot is the first to completely lose control. They yell, the noise strained and guttural as greasy poop shoots out of their ass and flows up their crack. It slops over their belt like a mudslide, caking the outside of their pants while more gas and mushy shit bubbles within. It's the most humiliating experience of their life and they wish their older co-worker weren't staring so intently at them.

But soon they're not the only one unloading. They watch as the pilot's face scrunches up and a burbling noise gives away what they're doing. A strong patch of turbulence thrashes them about and the somewhat quiet sounds from their ass grow into a loud bubbling as they uncontrollably tense their gut.

The cockpit is a cacophony of grunts, wails, squelching, gurgling, and endless wet farts.

[igottadoodoo743]

somebody holding in their shit all day, for one reason or another. a business person who hasn’t been able to leave their meetings, someone who just can’t use public toilets and has to wait til they’re at home, etc.

when they finally get the chance, they hurry to the bathroom. their guts are burbling and small, urgent farts are popping out involuntary. sweat dampens their forehead and they let out a shaky sigh of relief once the porcelain seat is in sight.

phew, they made it in time. that was close. just have to get their belt off… that damn, finicky belt. they dance around in front of the toilet, trembling hands pawing frantically at the metal and leather. soft shit oozes out and they let out a desperate whine. the belt comes undone with a clink and they can’t believe it when their zipper gets caught.

they’re whimpering and begging as their eyes tear up. nononono please NO! oh god help, please i- i can’t hold it. it’s coming out, no please, plea- shit spurts and bubbles out from between their cheeks. with a frustrated cry, they stop yanking at the zipper and clutch the sides of their ass. it’s no use fighting now. their muscles relax against their will and the short bursts of shit grow into an absolute mudslide. if someone clueless about the situation were there to listen they’d think someone was blowing into a straw to make bubbles in their drink.

the seat of their pants ripples and bulges. it’s humiliating but they can’t help but moan in relief. they stare at the toilet in front of them. so close and yet so far away.

[igottadoodoo743]

Wayback machine poopeelife archived stories

not sure if anyone here used the site before it shut down, but poopeelife was a massive story/image forum for scat, piss, diapers, messing, and farting. I found out recently you can still use internet archive to find pretty much any story, especially if you know the title. Just go to the Url section and search or scroll. Some of the stories aren't great, but there's a lot of good fiction or irl experiences written in here, feel free to tell me what you find.

Here's one of my favorites, it's a forced face farting session with a dommy girl who eventually messes her panties on the bottoms face and makes him eat it.

And here's a poop desperation story (be warned a highlight of this story is a fictional r*pe, do not read if that discomforts you in any way)

[igottadoodoo743]

Please… I would like to know who else do this too… Or message me, if you prefer.

[igottadoodoo743]

Derrick - Desperate Disaster

It was a quiet evening in your modest apartment, the soft hum of the TV in the background blending with the distant sounds of city traffic outside. You were lounging on the couch, lost in thought, when suddenly a thunderous CRASH shattered the calm. Your front door burst open with a violent jolt, the wood splintering at the hinges as a massive figure barreled through.

Standing there, stark naked and glistening with sweat, was a towering, hairy black man named Derrick. His dark skin was slick with perspiration, the thick mat of curly black hair covering his broad chest and muscular legs catching the dim light of your living room. His eyes were wide with panic, his deep voice booming through the space as he clutched his bloated belly with both hands.

"I’m not gonna make it!” Derrick roared, his gravelly tone laced with desperation as he staggered forward, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor. His massive frame filled the doorway, every muscle tensed with urgency, the sheer size of him overwhelming as he moved with a singular, frantic purpose.

You barely had time to process the surreal sight before he bolted past you, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, heading straight for the hallway leading to your bathroom. But even as he ran, it was clear he was losing the battle. A sharp, wet sound cut through the air, followed by a guttural groan from Derrick as he stumbled mid-stride. A hot, messy spurt of diarrhea erupted from him, streaking down his hairy legs and splattering onto the floor in a chaotic trail. The dark, watery mess painted a grim path down your hallway, each spurt accompanied by a low, pained moan from the man as he fought to keep moving. The stench hit almost instantly, a pungent, earthy wave that filled the small space, mixing with the stale air of your apartment.

The sight was raw and visceral—his powerful, naked body trembling with effort, the hair on his thighs matted with the filth, droplets of the murky liquid dripping onto the floor with every desperate step. "Fuck, I’m sorry, man!” Derrick growled through clenched teeth, his voice thick with shame and strain as he clutched his gurgling stomach, the loud, wet churns echoing in the narrow hallway. Another spurt escaped him, a violent burst that splashed against the wall, the sound wet and sickening as it slid down the paint in streaky rivulets. His massive hands slapped against the walls for support, leaving sweaty prints as he stumbled forward, the bathroom door just a few agonizing feet away. His hairy back glistened under the flickering hallway light, every muscle rippling with the effort to hold back the flood, but it was a losing fight.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, Derrick reached the bathroom door, shoving it open with a bang. He barely made it inside before another loud, wet explosion erupted, the sound reverberating off the tiled walls as he collapsed against the sink, his moans of relief and humiliation mixing with the chaotic splatter. The hallway behind him was a disaster zone, a trail of dark, gritty mess leading from your shattered front door to the bathroom threshold.

The air was thick with the heavy, acrid scent, clinging to everything as the echoes of Derrick’s struggle lingered in the silence that followedFrom the bathroom, you heard his ragged breathing, his deep voice muttering apologies between gasps. “I—I didn’t mean to fuck up your place like this,” he called out, the shame evident even through the door. “I ate somethin’ bad, real bad, and I just… I couldn’t hold it. You alright out there? I owe you big time for this mess.” His words were punctuated by another faint, wet sound, a reminder of the ongoing chaos within the small room.

[igottadoodoo743]

Ben - Lots of Relief, Little Time 2

The scene is raw, chaotic, and undeniably intense, a collision of the mundane and the taboo that leaves your heart pounding. He’s still there, unapologetic in his nakedness, his body a testament to the sheer power of the moment. The question hangs in the air—what happens next? The air in your bedroom is thick with desire, the faint scent of sweat and musk mingling with the warm, heady aroma of arousal.

The lights are low, casting soft shadows across the tangled sheets where you and Ben are locked in a feverish embrace. He’s a mountain of a man—his dark skin glistening, his massive, hairy frame pressed against you, all raw power and primal heat. His coarse chest hair scratches against your skin, his thick arms caging you as he moves with a rhythm that’s both commanding and desperate.

His breath is hot against your neck, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his throat as he thrusts, each motion sending sparks of pleasure through you. Your hands roam his broad back, fingers digging into the sweat-slicked muscle, urging him deeper, faster. The bed creaks under his weight, the headboard thumping softly against the wall, a steady beat that matches the pounding of your heart. His lips graze your ear, his voice a rough whisper, “Fuck… you feel so good…” The words send a shiver down your spine, your body responding with a hungry push against him, lost in the intensity of the moment.The room feels like it’s shrinking, the world narrowing to the heat of his skin, the slick friction of your bodies, the electric charge of every touch. His thrusts grow more urgent, his breathing ragged, and you’re right there with him, chasing that edge, every nerve alight.

But then, his rhythm falters—just for a second. His body tenses, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as he freezes mid-thrust, his dark eyes widening with a flicker of panic. "Shit… wait,” he gasps, his voice strained, almost pleading. His massive hands grip your hips, holding you still as his face contorts, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “I… I gotta shit. Bad.” The words are raw, unguarded, and you can feel the sudden shift in his body—a faint tremor, a clenching of his abdomen as he fights a battle you can’t see. His chest heaves, his hairy thighs trembling against you, and there’s a moment where he looks like he might pull away, his instincts screaming for the bathroom.

But you’re not having it. The heat, the need, the sheer want coursing through you is too strong to let this moment slip. Your hands tighten on his shoulders, pulling him closer, your voice low and commanding. “No way,” you murmur, a wicked edge to your tone. “You’re not going anywhere.” You roll your hips against him, reigniting that rhythm, drawing a strangled moan from his lips. His eyes flicker with a mix of desperation and arousal, caught between his body’s urgent demand and the undeniable pull of your insistence. "Fuck… I can’t—” he starts, but you cut him off with a fierce kiss, your lips crashing against his, swallowing his protest. His body shudders, torn between surrender and resistance, but you don’t let up, driving the pace, pushing him deeper into the haze of pleasure. His groans turn ragged, a low, primal edge to them as he tries to hold back the inevitable, his muscles clenching with the effort.

You can feel it—the tension in his frame, the faint gurgle in his gut, the way his thrusts grow erratic as he fights a losing battle.Then, it happens. A sharp, wet roar rips through the room, a sound so visceral it drowns out everything else. His body seizes, a guttural “Oh,fuck!” tearing from his throat as the diarrhea erupts, hot and unstoppable. The bed becomes a battlefield, the sheets instantly soaked with a warm, liquid flood that spreads beneath you, the scent hitting like a tidal wave—raw, earthy, and overwhelming. The explosion is relentless, a churning, splattering mess that coats his thighs, your skin, the mattress, everything in its path. The sheer volume is staggering, each wave louder and messier than the last, a primal release that shakes his massive frame. His eyes squeeze shut, his face a mix of shock, shame, and raw relief as his body betrays him completely.

But you don’t stop. You keep moving, your hands gripping his hips, urging him to stay with you, riding the chaos like it’s part of the thrill. The slick heat of the mess only heightens the intensity, a taboo edge that sends your pulse racing. His thrusts falter, then resume, sloppy and desperate, driven by your insistence and the strange, intoxicating freedom of the moment. “Goddamn… I’m sorry…” he gasps, his voice hoarse, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—arousal, surrender, a dark thrill that mirrors your own.

The bed is a disaster, the sheets ruined, the air thick with the musky, visceral stench of his release. Every movement sends fresh waves of liquid shifting beneath you, the wet, obscene sounds mingling with his ragged moans and your own breathless gasps. It’s messy, chaotic, and utterly uninhibited, a collision of desire and taboo that pushes you both to the edge. His body trembles, sweat dripping from his brow, matting his thick hair as he gives in completely, lost in the storm you’ve created together.Finally, the frenzy slows, your bodies still pressed together, slick and breathless in the wreckage of the bed.

He collapses forward, his weight heavy against you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. The room is a sauna of heat and scent, the evidence of his explosive release everywhere—streaked across your skin, pooling on the sheets, dripping to the floor. He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, and there’s a moment of silence, heavy with the weight of what just happened. "Fuck… that was…” he starts, his voice rough, trailing off as he searches for words. A shaky laugh escapes him, half-embarrassed, half-awed. “You’re wild.” His smirk returns, faint but undeniable, and there’s a spark in his gaze that says he’s not entirely sorry. The mess, the chaos, the sheer audacity of it all—it’s a secret you share now, a moment that’s as raw as it is unforgettable.

[igottadoodoo743]

Ben - Lots of Relief, Little Time 1

Your bathroom is tiny, a cramped space barely big enough for the essentials: a pedestal sink, a shower stall, and a small, porcelain toilet tucked against the wall. The tiles are clean, the air fresh with a hint of lavender from a plug-in air freshener. It’s a sanctuary of order—until Ben steps inside.

He doesn’t hesitate, his massive frame squeezing into the tight space, his shoulders brushing the walls as he positions himself over the toilet. The seat creaks under his weight, a low groan of protest from the porcelain as he settles, his hairy thighs spreading wide. His face tightens, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and a deep, guttural growl escapes his throat. “Fuck… it’s coming,” he mutters, his voice thick with strain.You hover in the doorway, unable to look away, your pulse racing as the tension in the room spikes. His abdomen clenches, the muscles rippling beneath the thick hair, and a loud, wet gurgle erupts from his gut—a primal, unmistakable warning. His hands grip his knees, knuckles paling, and his breath hitches, a low moan slipping out as he fights to hold back the inevitable.

But there’s no holding this back. The first eruption is deafening, a violent, liquid roar that echoes off the tiles like a gunshot. The toilet bowl fills with a hot, churning torrent, the sound obscene and unrelenting—a wet, splattering symphony that drowns out everything else. The air shifts instantly, the lavender air freshener obliterated by a raw, earthy stench that’s equal parts shocking and visceral. His body shudders, a low, primal groan tearing from his chest as wave after wave of diarrhea explodes into the small toilet, pushing its limits.

Shit… oh, fuck…” he gasps, his voice rough, his head tipping back as the relief washes over him. The porcelain groans under the onslaught, the water in the bowl churning violently, flecks of liquid splashing against the rim. His hairy chest heaves, sweat dripping down his skin, matting the coarse hair as his body gives in completely to the release. The sheer volume is staggering, a relentless flood that seems to defy the confines of the tiny toilet, each burst louder and messier than the last. You’re transfixed, the scene unfolding like a fever dream.

The bathroom feels smaller now, the walls closing in as the heat and smell envelop you. His eyes flicker toward you, a glint of something—amusement, defiance, maybe even invitation—in their depths. “Didn’t… expect this, did you?” he pants, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips, even as another spasm racks his body, sending a fresh torrent into the overwhelmed toilet.The bowl is a mess, the water dark and frothing, the rim streaked with evidence of the chaos. The floor tiles are speckled with stray droplets, the air thick with the musky, primal scent of his release. He shifts on the seat, the porcelain creaking again, and lets out a shaky laugh, half-exhausted, half-triumphant.

“Goddamn… that was a lot,” he murmurs, wiping sweat from his brow with a hairy forearm.He leans back, his massive frame still dominating the tiny space, his breathing slowing as the last tremors fade. The toilet is a battlefield, barely containing the aftermath, and the bathroom feels forever changed, marked by his presence. He glances at you again, that smirk still playing on his lips, and there’s a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken possibilities. “You gonna stand there all night?” he teases, his voice low and rough, a challenge wrapped in amusement.

[igottadoodoo743]

Your bathroom is tiny, a cramped space barely big enough for the essentials: a pedestal sink, a shower stall, and a small, porcelain toilet tucked against the wall. The tiles are clean, the air fresh with a hint of lavender from a plug-in air freshener. It’s a sanctuary of order—until Ben steps inside.

He doesn’t hesitate, his massive frame squeezing into the tight space, his shoulders brushing the walls as he positions himself over the toilet. The seat creaks under his weight, a low groan of protest from the porcelain as he settles, his hairy thighs spreading wide. His face tightens, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple, and a deep, guttural growl escapes his throat. “Fuck… it’s coming,” he mutters, his voice thick with strain. You hover in the doorway, unable to look away, your pulse racing as the tension in the room spikes. His abdomen clenches, the muscles rippling beneath the thick hair, and a loud, wet gurgle erupts from his gut—a primal, unmistakable warning. His hands grip his knees, knuckles paling, and his breath hitches, a low moan slipping out as he fights to hold back the inevitable.

But there’s no holding this back. The first eruption is deafening, a violent, liquid roar that echoes off the tiles like a gunshot. The toilet bowl fills with a hot, churning torrent, the sound obscene and unrelenting—a wet, splattering symphony that drowns out everything else. The air shifts instantly, the lavender air freshener obliterated by a raw, earthy stench that’s equal parts shocking and visceral. His body shudders, a low, primal groan tearing from his chest as wave after wave of diarrhea explodes into the small toilet, pushing its limits.

Shit… oh, fuck…” he gasps, his voice rough, his head tipping back as the relief washes over him. The porcelain groans under the onslaught, the water in the bowl churning violently, flecks of liquid splashing against the rim. His hairy chest heaves, sweat dripping down his skin, matting the coarse hair as his body gives in completely to the release. The sheer volume is staggering, a relentless flood that seems to defy the confines of the tiny toilet, each burst louder and messier than the last. You’re transfixed, the scene unfolding like a fever dream.

The bathroom feels smaller now, the walls closing in as the heat and smell envelop you. His eyes flicker toward you, a glint of something—amusement, defiance, maybe even invitation—in their depths. “Didn’t… expect this, did you?” he pants, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips, even as another spasm racks his body, sending a fresh torrent into the overwhelmed toilet.The bowl is a mess, the water dark and frothing, the rim streaked with evidence of the chaos. The floor tiles are speckled with stray droplets, the air thick with the musky, primal scent of his release. He shifts on the seat, the porcelain creaking again, and lets out a shaky laugh, half-exhausted, half-triumphant.

“Goddamn… that was a lot,” he murmurs, wiping sweat from his brow with a hairy forearm. He leans back, his massive frame still dominating the tiny space, his breathing slowing as the last tremors fade. The toilet is a battlefield, barely containing the aftermath, and the bathroom feels forever changed, marked by his presence. He glances at you again, that smirk still playing on his lips, and there’s a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken possibilities. “You gonna stand there all night?” he teases, his voice low and rough, a challenge wrapped in amusement.

[igottadoodoo743]

Hottie busting to lay his logs.