Name: pud 2008-01-02 3:23
I always choose my targets carefully, and today was no different. A new housing development had just opened up on the south side of town, and I was eager to leave my mark. I entered the sales office, and the hostess eyed me with a friendly smile. Little did she know that within seconds I would be shitting my guts out into an nconnected toilet on the second floor of the "Wilmington" model. 2593 square feet. Very nice.
I swung open the front door, and bounded up the stairs. Spotting the bathroom, I entered and stood before the toilet. I lifted the lid, and
immediately saw the sign. "Toilet inoperable. Please use restroom downstairs." With a chuckle, stomped through the cardboard, and tore away
the remaining scraps. I spun around and sat down.
Have you ever noticed that model homes never have internal doors? Really. Next time you visit a model home, try to find the doors. There aren't any! This fact definately comes into play when you are naked from the waist down, grunting and groaning like mad over a dry porcelin bowl.
But I digress...
So there I was, sitting on the pot, letting my feces spill out like chocolate ice cream from a soft serve machine. Just as I leaned back and let out a long satisfied sigh, I heard the front door open. Two sets of footsteps, and...a child's voice. My ass puckered and immediately sliced off a rope of turd mid-poop. I looked between my thighs to survey my handiwork.
A messy set of brown coils topped off with a nice peak reaching halfway to the rim of the toilet. I stood up, and wiped my ass with the corner of the ivory colored curtains hanging from the window. I paused for a moment in reflection. Should I leave the lid up...or
down? I finally decided on 'up' just as I heard a creak at the bottom of the stairs. Passing each other on the way down, I gave the woman a knowing smile, realising full well that she would discover the masterpiece that I had prepared for her. Sometimes, I wish that I could see their faces at just that moment. That moment of rapture. Maybe someday, but not today. There are many other model homes to visit, and empty toilets to shit in.
Until then, I am the Model Home Shitter
I swung open the front door, and bounded up the stairs. Spotting the bathroom, I entered and stood before the toilet. I lifted the lid, and
immediately saw the sign. "Toilet inoperable. Please use restroom downstairs." With a chuckle, stomped through the cardboard, and tore away
the remaining scraps. I spun around and sat down.
Have you ever noticed that model homes never have internal doors? Really. Next time you visit a model home, try to find the doors. There aren't any! This fact definately comes into play when you are naked from the waist down, grunting and groaning like mad over a dry porcelin bowl.
But I digress...
So there I was, sitting on the pot, letting my feces spill out like chocolate ice cream from a soft serve machine. Just as I leaned back and let out a long satisfied sigh, I heard the front door open. Two sets of footsteps, and...a child's voice. My ass puckered and immediately sliced off a rope of turd mid-poop. I looked between my thighs to survey my handiwork.
A messy set of brown coils topped off with a nice peak reaching halfway to the rim of the toilet. I stood up, and wiped my ass with the corner of the ivory colored curtains hanging from the window. I paused for a moment in reflection. Should I leave the lid up...or
down? I finally decided on 'up' just as I heard a creak at the bottom of the stairs. Passing each other on the way down, I gave the woman a knowing smile, realising full well that she would discover the masterpiece that I had prepared for her. Sometimes, I wish that I could see their faces at just that moment. That moment of rapture. Maybe someday, but not today. There are many other model homes to visit, and empty toilets to shit in.
Until then, I am the Model Home Shitter