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Tiny girl poop porn

I called out a really good friend of mine for being a Porta Potty after seeing her on TheDirty, and she admitted everything. I asked her a few months ago about it and she told me when something opens up she will let me know. Christmas came and she told me that Jan. Bartz for a weekend. Next day, we get on a foot yacht… On it is my friend, me and 1 other girl, and 9 Arabian guys. I was starting to doubt what the hell I got into, 6 of them were fat and all of them were so hairy, It was intense. They just sat there and played board games and smoked cigars. A few hours later one of their servants comes up and tells us its time. So the next two guys take a little longer maybe 7 or 8 minutes and do the same. Now my face is just glazed, I hear all 3 walking out laughing and the servant comes to get me and tells me not to clean my face, takes my hand and walks me to the shower.
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Top definition. The single most satisfying bowel movement that man is capable of. Ghost Poop unknown. There are three popular definitions of ghost poop : 1: This is when you feel like you need to take shit, but when you go, nothing comes out or you merely fart. This is explained by having too much air in the colon from having eaten gassy foods like beans or swallowing air, or by you having very bad constipation. This is explained easily however. You merely had a very heavy turd that went strait halfway down the drain , so it's out of sight , but still very much in the toilet. There are two explanations depending on the ease of your shit. If the shit was relatively easy, then congrats! You're getting the perfect amount of fiber in your diet, not too much, not too little.

We asked YOU, our kind readers to submit your funniest, most embarrassing pooping stories in hopes of winning the finest bidet on the market. You did not disappoint. We received dozens of stories and selected the very best 10 for your viewing pleasure. They also may contain sex, inappropriate language, tears, run-ins with the law, shame waves and both number ones and twos. ONLY continue reading if you enjoy laughing. I was on a bachelor party cruise to Mexico. Things got a little out of hand one night. The next morning, I was in my room a hot, cramped, dorm style room with no windows shared by my smelly ass friends , hungover out of my mind, when I felt a twinge in my lower back. I proceeded to de-robe and attack the tiny holed toilet in our room head on. I unleashed a massive pile of the remnants from the evening before and was a hot, sweaty mess afterwards.

We asked YOU, our kind readers to submit your funniest, most embarrassing pooping stories in hopes of winning the finest bidet on the market. You did not disappoint. We received dozens of stories and selected the very best 10 for your viewing pleasure. They also may contain sex, inappropriate language, tears, run-ins with the law, shame waves and both number ones and twos. ONLY continue reading if you enjoy laughing.

I was on a bachelor party cruise to Mexico. Things got a little out of hand one night. The next morning, I was in my room a hot, cramped, dorm style room with no windows shared by my smelly ass friends , hungover out of my mind, when I felt a twinge in my lower back. I proceeded to de-robe and attack the tiny holed toilet in our room head on. I unleashed a massive pile of the remnants from the evening before and was a hot, sweaty mess afterwards. Clearly panicked, I searched high and low in the tiny BM chamber for the water valve to no avail.

The deluge of water and poo began to flood the bathroom floor of the state room. The poor poor poor attendant on my level came running to my aid. He braced himself and opened the door. Water was everywhere. The pile of soft serve had speed into little nuggets across the floor, and it was obvious that there was no end in sight to the ever flowing spring of water from below.

Springing into action, the attendant ran back out into the hallway and ripped a panel off of the wall. Looking us both in the eyes was the holy grail. Although likely some sort of alloy, the valve appeared to be the most shimmering platinum I had ever seen. The water was off, the victory was ours.

My prize…cleaning 2 inches of water and shit off of my state room bathroom floor in seemingly 90 degree heat with a raging hangover with a bottle of bleach and an empty beer box for an hour while 15 of my friends enjoyed Coronas and girls in bikinis by the pool.

I look back now and laugh, but that was the most terrified I had been in my life. Dangling over the water. No pushing could help. So naturally I called for my Monmy. After telling her what my situation was, she asked what she could do to help me. I was seeing this girl for about 5 months, and our relationship basically consisted of us humping.

So time passes and she ends up going away to Mexico for vacation and we hang out as soon as she gets back. We spent the night together, and in the morning, I found it difficult to make love.

Often the case in the morning; must be low blood sugar or something. So I find myself really having to vigorously go at it this one morning, all rough and crazy. And in this porno-styled ambience I am pounding away, my eyes pretty much shut, my entire focus concentrated on maintaining an erection. I made her come. Now I can blow my load or whatever. A lot of liquid and some debris. Diarrhea all over. I keep fucking. I mean, I wanted to finish. I was kinda in shock, like This is totally fucked up! But of course, right then she notices and turns around and freaks out.

I was pretty proud of myself for not being freaked out or anything. I ended up just hopping in the shower to rinse off everything. No big deal. Never got to bust a nut though. Our hotel is at the Mirage which is a good ways down the strip but L says he can make it and G says he will get there asap. Well obviously every possible situation that could have held us up definitely did.. When we finally arrive the look of discomfort on L was not good, there was this feeling that he was just going to shit himself.

I look at G and say I this should be interesting. It was the Summer of I had been traveling in India for about 3 weeks and eating all the street food you are always told not to eat. I was right. I kept on eating and taking miniscule dumps throughout.

Bathrooms were nasty so I doubt my sphincter ever relaxed much. I headed out to drive to my house in San Francisco, about 45 minutes from my parents house. About 25 minutes into my drive my stomach made a deep thud giving me chills and goose bumps all over. I made it off the onto Octavia and could smell the festering dead Indian child that was kicking my guts as it slithered further down into my colon! Next was Fell St! As I drove past Divisadero I realized the only thing keeping me from exploding all over my cloth interior was I was sitting and my bumhole was sorta covered.

Almost home… I get to 5th Avenue at Fulton where I live. Im not gonna make it. I slam on the brakes out front my door! Meter maid!! A parking spot on 4th Ave. Who cares about parallel parking now, just get in the spot, cars can go around you!!! If I squeeze my butt super tight, the second I get out of my car and run I can make it!! The second I got off that seat it was all over, figuratively and literally. Crap, literally. I got home with my shorts around my ass and my undies around my thighs.

When I wake up the next day and move around I want to head out. Its 5pm, lets get a happy hour. I grab my keys, grab my cell phone, grab my…. I run to the car, and there, stuck on the pile of my entire India trip is my ID. Name side up for all to behold!!!! I was invited to go hunting in Wisconsin. So,I spent the rest of the day hunting with no socks in the tree stand.

A mind full of mushrooms and a mile beyond the temple, in the deep playa beyond human reach, it hit me like a bag of bricks in the gut. The pressure, both intestinal and psychological, to take a dump overtook me.

What to do? An image of myself carrying my m. Discouraging prospects. So I puckered up my sphincter and sucked it up, soldiering onwards, steadily, towards the distant mirage of blinking LED lights, resembling some kind of phosphorescent underwater arcade. Dissolving my identity in the rhythm of my stride and the flow of fleeting earth below-foot I found peace in my singular purpose.

I was little more than a vessel then, a courier, a sort of Johnny Mnemonic transporting an excremental shitload to its safehaven. I would let nothing get in my way. Faces appeared in the crack-outlined islands of dirt. Ancient, ancestral faces. Dead serious, terrifying and beautiful. They appeared to be speaking to me. Ahead now, I came upon an incidental man-made crop circle, made of tire-tracks. Deep monster-truck tire-grooves, the aftermath of sharp turns and infinity loops.

As soon as I stepped into their field I felt its vortextual gravity, as it drew down energy from the stars to swirl, galactically, through the chalice of my interior. I was beamed with transmissions from distant star races. Aliens on hold. Yours truly pacing, cramping and trudging towards those port-o-potty up ahead.

Gutwrenching tunnel vision, my eyes swirling like galaxies, flushing like toilets. Of course when I finally made it to my destination I ended up spending another twenty minutes waiting in a line of dusty dead-eyed ravers from planet Wookie-Tron, dressed almost entirely in furs laced with L-wire. Every time, without fail. Sometimes twice in one go. Whoo—sorry, again.



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