Can't post this as it was definitely a good date - even though it contains shitting myself

I was plying my charms to a young lady, trying to sparkle with wit (rather than drip with horny desperation). Suddenly, my guts announced that in the very near future, an extended session in the toilet was going to be necessary. Very, very near future. Like a future measured in minutes, possibly seconds.

So, in the middle of a sentence, probably even a word, I jumped up and announced that I had to go. Luckily I was just a couple of blocks from home, which I made in the worlds fastest time for the knees-and-buttocks-clenched sprint, all the while moaning like a moose with it's dick frozen to a lake.

The next few hours are ones I don't care to reflect upon. Eventually I emerged, white and shattered, and crawled into bed. In the morning I had a bath, and just as I'd reached "human" again, the doorbell went. There was the young lady; baffled and intrigued by my sudden departure, she'd decided to see what had happened, and if it was her fault. In short order we ended up in bed; it's entirely possible that, without explosive diarrhoea, I'd never have succeeded.

I like to think (or at least hope) that it was the only time in history that the raging squits has been used as a seduction technique.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 8 Sep 2014, 11:29, 1 reply)

"Ah'm gaunny shite in your mooth, Boab Coyle!"

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 8 Sep 2014, 13:46, closed)