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Some things don't need to be shared.
This is one of them.
Years ago I was having some serious wisdom tooth pain and needed most of them removed. Trouble was, the tooth doing the most playing up was infected, so before I could have it pulled I needed to clear up the infection by way of antibiotics. The dentist warned me I'd probably experience some constipation -- it was a side effect of those tablets, he warned me, but these were the quickest way to clear the infection. I really thought nothing of his warning. I made sure I finished the course -- I didn't want to experience that kind of pain again.
About a week later, at my girlfriend's house, I finally needed to go to the toilet. I sat down and waited for some action, only to realize I was in trouble and there was no turning back. After about half an hour of sitting, my legs were cramping, I was sweating all over, the odd tear was running down my cheek, and I was nowhere near the end. Beneath me was the head of a monster.
I was facing the worst. And for a while there, I was in a state of panic. My girlfriend was also pretty worried by this stage and had taken up position outside the door, occasionally asking me if I was okay.
I wasn't.
I reckon I had this thing about a quarter of the way out. It seemed to only move on its own terms. Pushing only resulted in severe pain. And it was too early to snap by wagging. I knew that the beast was thick and solid because I could feel it between my cheeks when I stood up. (I needed to rest my legs.)
I was stuck in a very awkward situation.
At one stage I remember calling out for my mom. I couldn't take it anymore -- the frustration had taken hold and I all I wanted was this thing out of me. My girlfriend was still pacing and I think she may have even phoned my parents. Thoughts of grabbing it and pulling it out had crossed my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.
At this point I was at the sink, looking at myself in the mirror, talking myself through it, washing sweat off my face, when I thought to take a look. I turned to see something resembling a tail. It was around the same size and shape of a baseball bat handle. The thing was massive. It didn't even flex from its own weight -- it stuck out at forty-five degrees. I almost laughed until I remembered that this was happening to me.
I went back to the toilet to give it one last try. I looked between my legs and the bas was already in the water. I looked away, staring at the wall... this was it.
The end came quickly. It was as though it had had its fun. It seemed to leave me without even touching the sides (though it probably did). And the relief was almost orgasmic. I felt euphoria, like I'd completed a marathon but was still running on adrenalin.
There may have been laughter, there may have been blood -- I was delirious.
I looked down to gaze upon the monster. It was huge: halfway up the bowl, disappearing down the S-bend, and frighteningly thick. Truly an amazing feat.
The wipe turned up nothing. I guess it had a conscience.
Some things don't need to be shared.
This is one of them.
How many Courics?
I was expecting this to be a Fresh Prince of Bel Air thread.
wow. epic story telling.
Almost sounds like a bit off of a Sarah Silverman show episode.
Congratulations! You can now be totally sympathetic with the childbirth experience!!
sounds like having to on peyote.
did you save it?
So did I ... also, 1369, where'd this come from, why share it now?
That was funny.
Me three.
Similar to how movie companies wait until the fall to release their Oscar hopefuls, 1369 figured now would be a good time to submit his Post of The Year attempt.1369, where'd this come from, why share it now?
Anyway, diarrhea is a more common side-effect of antibiotics than constipation. Do you remember which one you got?
As I scrolled and read, I expected a Fresh Prince thread.
True, because the antibiotics end up killing all the 'good' symbiotic bacteria that live in our intestines. Without their presence, resistant ameobas and other detrimental bacteria reproduce at an exponential rate resulting in the squirts.
Last edited by Phenomanul; 10-17-2007 at 05:33 PM.
That had to be a good 4-5.5 Courics....
This thread is perfectly fine without pictures, thank you very much.
One of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder is random flashbacks to the incident. They have been known to occur years later in life. Often there is a trigger that releases the flashback.
(1369 typed the post on his laptop wifi connection. You'll never guess where he was sitting at the time...)
I kept waiting for the "Yo Holmes...." part but it ended with a flush instead.
Now that's comedy.
The Flush Prince of Bel-Air?I kept waiting for the "Yo Holmes...." part but it ended with a flush instead.
I think the "smell ya later" part still works though...
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