Lavatory

Chapter 1
Lavatory (Complete Story)

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Chapter Description: A man using an in-ear bud capable of recording his thoughts to text file gives the device a spin on a business flight. Little does he know, a trip to the Mile High Club can take a lot out of you. (Leave feedback to ensure more free product in the future!)

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This thing work?

Testing. Testing.

This thing work?

Huh. I’ll be damned.

An in-ear bud sensitive enough to record the brain’s electrical impulses and encode them into English-language transcriptions of the user’s thoughts. Periodic automatic save and everything. Guess when they say “There’s an app for that,” they ain’t fuckin’ kidding.

Small of my back itches. There. That’s better.

Fuck, I’m horny.

So, ahhh, I’m just gonna edit this later. Obviously, there’s no backspace when you’re thinking, so... if my mind wanders or something, well, I’ll just, yeah.

Worth every penny. What’ll they think of next.

Could they make these seats a little tighter, please? I swear, the airlines must be making these planes smaller and smaller to save on fuel. Or am I getting fatter? I’m not getting fatter. I haven’t put on a pound since college. It’s these pond jumpers. Pond jumpers and old age and bitterness and shit whatever.

Fuck, I’m horny. Ahh god. Huff. Alright. Snacks? No thank you. Fasten your safety belt, yada yada yada, we offer fresh beer here where the hops in the sky are just that much more expensive. I wonder whether anyone’s ever actually gone up to a stewardess and said “Excuse me, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the responsibility of the exit row.” Do they call them stewardesses anymore? Or is it flight attendants? Those guys on trains are still stewards, right?

Mental note. Call Stuart.

Jon Stewart is taking eight weeks off this summer to film a movie.

Fuck, I’m horny.

Finally, yes, at last, we’re moving. Taxiing, taxiing, taxiing. The most dangerous part of a flight is takeoff. Tenerife. Why am I thinking Tenerife? Just, fuck, Tenerife pops into my head. One minute they’re alive, the next they’re dead. Wonder what it’s like in those last few moments. I’ve always heard that the will to live, the instinct to survive, that’s insurmountable. If you got it in you you got it in you. And people have survived, so I’m going to survive. It’s not like I’m more willing to die than anybody else. I like life. So this thing goes down I’ll be fine, because people have been fine in the past, and my will’s stronger than any of them. You’re more likely to die in a car accident. Fuck, I’m horny. Everyone’s always more likely to die in a car accident. No shit Sherlock. Spend 120 hours a month in a car, spend one-20th of that in a plane. If I’m swimming in the ocean, I’m more likely to drink seawater than Orange Julius. That kinda thing.

Ahhh. That feeling you get when the rubber leaves the tarmac. Like you’re floating on air. Heh. What was that bit about, that Louis C.K. did? Sense of entitlement. About the guy who was pissed off ‘cause the wifi on the plane was down? “You’re sitting in a fucking chair flying through the fucking sky,” something like that? Heh. Wonder if the latest Blu Rays are out.

Fuck, I--hel-looo...

I know I’ve seen her before. She works for this airline, I’ve taken it a billion times, of course this was bound to happen. And I’d never forget a face like that. Look at those lips. Fuck, I’m horny. I bet-- Jesus. Ho ho. Damn. Look at the tits... look away. Heh heh. Whew. God.

No.

No. That wasn’t just a look, was it? Was that a look? That was a look, of course. All looks are a look. But was it the look? The mi--Hey, I didn’t imagine that. I didn’t just imagine that beckoning finger. She’s got that come hither look. And I would be remiss if I didn’t send my come hence.

‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Bathroom, be right back.

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Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. Jesus fuck.

Janet. That’s her name. Janet. She looks like a Janet, too. Only younger. Young, sweet Janet. Tight skirtsuit, emerald-green eyes, lips made for suckin’ and a wry smile that’d make Neil Patrick Harris throw in the towel. She smells... smells like luxury. Like sexy, expensive, forbidden female fruit... I know that perfume. I know that smell.

Cock’s pressed up against the inside of my jeans. Glad I wore the boxer-briefs today. Lavatory ain’t that big and I’m gonna have to snake this sucker out pretty soon. Her lips are on my neck. I can feel her hot breath light up the hairs beneath my chin. I can feel sharp little pinpricks at my earlobe and I don’t know whether they’re phantom sensations or she’s actually nibbling at me like a horny fucking lady of the evening. Raise my hands up, grab her tits.

Fuck, I’m horny.

Jeez. Feels like I’m leaking already. Fucking the inside of my jockeys like this... I gotta get it out. I gotta get it up in her. Does she expect me to wear a rubber? Dammit, I can’t reach around for my wallet in here. I can barely twist my body let alone go rooting around for that shit.

Ungh.

Undo her jacket. That’s it. A couple buttons on her shirt. Fuck, she’s built. Those tits are the most amazing things I’ve ever seen, and I ain’t even seen ‘em yet. She’s nibbling at my neck again. I gotta make this happen.

That scent... there it is again. What is her perfume? This isn’t the first time I’ve smelled that. Maybe I’ve fucked her before. Maybe I’ve fucked her up here before.

No. No, I’d remember. That, I’d remember.

Oh, fuck.

Get my hands in her shirt. Feel those nipples. Christ, they could cut glass. Twitch. Twitch. I’m grinding up against her and it’s all I can do to keep my balls from boiling over. She’s hissing something in my ear.

“Fuck me, tiger.”

Tiger, eh?

“Fuck me.”

Right.

Her mouth arcs around and meets mine. Lips meet lips. I’m kissing her. I’m kissing her and I’m feeling her tits and she tastes like raspberries. I fuck the front of my pants again. Daddy needs out. Up and down, up and down. Gotta undo my belt.

Or maybe not. She must have my jeans, must be workin’ on ‘em. Feels nice and loose. My cock has some nice give now, a lot of leeway to fuck against the fabric of my jockeys. Lots of pre. When I’m up in this bitch it’s gonna be sensational.

There’s that smell again. Sharp, sharp perfume. Takes me back. Makes me hard. There’s a pressure. She’s got me up against the wall. Buck, and thrust. Buck, and thrust. Her legs against mine. Even though we’re both still mostly clothed I make like I’m running my cock up into her, fucking her in long, needful strokes. There’s a pressure. Yeah. A pressure in my balls, a pressure in my gut.

There’s no stopping me now.

I grunt, I squeeze her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and I push, and I push up against her, and--

--and, oh god, I’m crapping. I’m crapping my pants. It’s not a lot. It’s just slick. It just feels slick. I can stop it. Am I just imagining that? Just a fart? Just sweat. Just the heat of the room. The heat of the moment.

No. I’m shitting my pants. Christ, not now. Not here. I can feel my asshole... I can feel my asshole widening. I can feel it slickening up. Shit... I’m still in my jeans! I’m still in my boxer-briefs! My... my cock’s out, my cock’s out my fly!--finally!--but there’s a fuckin’ turd pokin’ out!

Pull it in! Pull it in!

Inhale!

No!

Oh god, it’s slipping--it’s slipping out! Hungh! Kiss her! Kiss her you fucking fool! Maybe she won’t notice! Pinch it off! Pinch it off. There. Oh god. Oh god, that’s fucking sick. Fuckin’ log in my pants. Keep it together. No-- no, don’t push me up against the--

Ungh! Uch! Fuck! She pushed me up against the counter! There’s shit all over... fuck!

My shirt. She’s getting my shirt off. No...

Kiss her, you fool! Don’t get distracted!

She tastes like raspberries.

Here comes-- oh, shit, here comes another. Are you fucking kidding me? No! No! Not another!

Hungh!

Blink. Blink. Keep it together.

Is she getting bigger? Am I getting... am I getting smaller?

She’s not kissing me like she was before. Why am I looking up at her? Oh god, I’m looking up at her. I’m looking up at her and I’m shitting my pants.

Another log in the seat of my jockeys. They’re tugging down. My pants are getting loose. Why the fuck is she looking down at me?

Is that a smile? Bitch. That bitch. She’s smiling. She’s trying to stop herself from laughing. She knows. She knows I’ve pooped my pants.

She knows I’ve pooped in my pants and she’s laughing at me.

This isn’t fun anymore. This isn’t sexy. I don’t like this anymore. I’m scared. Shit. I’m still crapping. Still-- I feel like I’m in junior high again. Junior high with a fuckin’ throbbing woody that’s about to splatter in my pants. Hehe. I’ve heard about that. I’ve heard about guys who cum in their pants. They can’t handle a woman.

They can’t handle a woman like I can handle a woman.

Oh yeah, Janet. Touch me there. You’ve got great boobs. I’m smiling too, see? I’m mature. I’m a grown-up guy. Almost too much man for you, aren’t I? You better believe it.

More poop in my pants. You don’t care. I know you don’t. ‘Cause I just got pubes and I’m too fuckin’ man for you.

Kissing her now, but I can only reach her neck. Doesn’t matter. I can still smell her perfume. Her boobs are near my face. Pretty soon I’ll be lookin’ square at ‘em. My jeans are all piled up around my feet. She must really want me.

She does, doesn’t she? She feels my hard-on. I--

Ungh!

Christ! She’s got her hand on my dick! It’s all for you, baby. All four inches. You feel those? That’s right.

Uhnnn... I’m still pooping. Almost done. Thank god. Almost empty. Obviously she doesn’t mind. She’s got me.

She’s got my dick. She’s got me. I’m safe.

I don’t even think my feet are on the floor anymore. Did she... she did! She’s lifted me up a bit... she’s lifted me up so she can look me in the eyes. Awesome. She’s so pretty. She’s so pretty.

Now she’s cooing at me. Talking at me like I’m a little kid. I’m not a little kid. I’m not a little kid and she knows it. I’m keeping it together. I’m on a plane, high in the sky... only grown-ups ride on planes. That’s how I know I am one.

Why aren’t you kissing me? Was I not kissing good enough?

Can I have another kiss?

I’m not so sure about this anymore. Maybe I didn’t impress her. Was my peepee not big enough? Come on, I’m just a kid. It’ll get bigger. It’ll get bigger and it’ll get hair and you’ll see.

I’m empty. See? I don’t poop my pants anymore.

I’m done pooping my pants. I don’t need the potty anymore.

See that? Yeah. Hehehe. She’s giggling because I’m smiling. I know that much, at least. She’s holding me up now, I think. Pretty much. Her arms... yeah... these clothes are way too big. Stupid clothes. I’m glad they’re on the floor. All except my poopy pants.

I don’t need the potty anymore.

Whoops! There go the jockeys. Plop! Hehehe. Lotsa messy. That perfume smells a whole lot better than my butt.

Hehe. Butt.

My peepee’s still hard. Are you going to touch my peepee? Please? Thank you. Ahhh, that’s better. Please touch my peepee.

There’s the... what’s that? There’s a little door in the wall. Oooh, Secret passage.

You’re gonna plop my poopy butt on the table? Well, if you want. Hehehe. But don’t-- aaah! Those are cold! Cold wipes! Cold wipes on my butt!

Yes, of course I’m giggling. Because you’re cooing. Stop rubbing my butt! It’s too cold!

The room’s so much bigger. These rooms get bigger and bigger. Don’t stop looking at me. Look at me!

Look at me.

Look at-- there we go! Hehehe! Funny face. Good. Keep looking.

Now you say I don’t need the potty anymore. Well duh.

I gotsta play with my peepee. Tug tug tug. While you unfold that thing and hum your song I’m just going to tug tug tug.

Like tothin’ peepee.

Oooh. Feetsies go waaay high up in the air. Upside-down! Hehehe! And back down. Ahhh. Butt feels cushy. Wiggle my butt. Wiggle wiggle, hehehe.

I know that smell. That perfume smell.

And I know that smell! Lotsa powdies. Puff, puff, puff! Hehehe! Snowstorm!

I-- ahhhh...

Ohhh... Jan-- Jmm... ahh...

I somewhere else now. Oh yes. Toth there. Mm. Itchy. Better. Very very soft. Yeah. That feels so good.

Tug tug tug!

Giggle.

You coo at me an’ make me happy. Gotta smile. I smile!

Wheee! Up goes the white. See the white go up and over. Tuck in wike a taco. Tuck tuck. Unf unf. Wiggle wiggle. Cushy butt.

Kick left. Kick right. Kick... kick.

Where my peepee?

Kick. Mmm. Crinkle.

Sound of tape. Sounds. Colors.

White.

Jmm...ooo...

Mmmommm...

Fingies. Toesies!

All wrapped up. Wrapped up nice and tight. Safe. So warm. I’m squishy. I’m squithy.

Squithy squithy. Peepee.

Mommm-mmm...

Wheee! Wift up. Hehehe. Unf. Hug. Wrapped around. Smell perfume. Neck. Bounce.

Bounce bounce bounce.

Oooo...

...

...Mommy.

Hungy, Mommy.

Big wowd. Big.

Big.

Mmm...

Kinna tiwe...

Hnnnmm...

Meeooo...

...ooo...

...Ma...

...

...ma.

 

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