“The third item on the agenda,” said Mrs Forsyth, the vicar’s wife, “is the church roof. It’s badly in need of repair, and I don’t think we can wait for the weekly collection plate to amass enough money…”
“I quite agree, Linda,” said Mr Barrowman, the church’s treasurer. “Perhaps we could hold a fundraiser…”
“Would anyone like some tea?” asked Anya suddenly.
“Yes dear, that’s a good idea,” said her mother. “Why don’t you put the kettle on?” She winced as her daughter, getting up from her chair, flashed her panties twice – once as a white triangle between her legs, and again as she turned around, revealing the lower curves of her buttocks beneath her ridiculously tiny skirt.
“Can’t you get her to dress properly, Carla?” complained Mrs Smithers, the church organist. “It’s very hard to concentrate, with Anya sitting there all…”
“Yes!” interrupted Mr Hewitt, the head of the church’s six-person choir. “I keep losing the thread of the conversation!”
“Indeed,” agreed the vicar. “I mean, the microskirt is bad enough, but couldn’t she at least find something more decent to put on her top half? I’m an old man, but I’m not immune to the visual appeal of a pair of ripe, succulent…”
“All right!” said Carla, holding up her hands. “Yes, I know she dresses a bit racily, but that’s just her way. I admit that her attending this meeting in a see-through top, without a bra, was a bit too indecent – I’ll have a word with her afterwards and make sure she doesn’t do it again.”
A few minutes later, Anya returned with the tea. As she was handing out cups, however, she suddenly clutched at her abdomen. “Oh dear!” she said, her lips quivering with excitement, “I think I’m about to have an accident!” She pushed hard, and her anus quickly expanded as a thick poo started to emerge from her rectum.
“Oh Anya!” muttered Carla, putting her forehead in her hands and shaking her head in mortification.
Anya suppressed a giggle as her poo curled up against her buttocks, and then was pushed aside as a second poo began slithering out of her anus. Her breasts heaving excitedly, she pulled her panties down a little to make some room. Then she said brightly, “I’d better take off my skirt and top before they get messy!” She quickly pulled her top up over her head, and tossed it behind her, where it landed draped over the piano stool. Then she slipped off her shoes, unzipped her skirt, and let it fall to the floor. Stepping out of it and kicking it away, she knelt down on the floor with her knees spread apart, now wearing only her panties.
“Anya, isn’t the bathroom the best place for this sort of thing?” said Mrs Smithers desperately, taking out a silk handkerchief and pressing it to her nose.
“It’s hard to walk when poo is coming out of your bottom!” gasped Anya, and she bent down, resting her elbows on the floor and arching her back so that her gusset and the bulge growing in her white cotton panties were pointing directly towards the vicar. Then, “Oooh!” she gasped, as her third poo – a soft and slender turd – pushed downwards between her gusset and pussy, forcing her labia apart and oozing over her clitoris.
“This is a … an outrage!” spluttered the vicar’s wife. “Anya, explain yourself!”
Anya stuck her thumbs in the sides of her panties, and wiggled her hips as she tugged her waistband down over her buttocks. When she started pushing out her fourth poo, the vicar and his wife, to their horror, could actually see it extruding from Anya’s anus. “I’m sorry!” said Anya breathlessly, gyrating her pelvis so that her clitoris squished around in her poo. “There was so much – it was terribly uncomfortable – this position is most comfy.”
The vicar, appalled, tried unsuccessfully to wrest his eyes from Anya’s poo weaving back and forth as it piled itself up on top of the mass of her earlier turds. “But why are you pulling your panties down?” he demanded indignantly.
“To make room!” said Anya, snorting with laughter, which she quickly turned into a loud clearing of the throat.
In an attempt to divert attention from Anya and her panty-pooping, Carla finished handing out cups of tea. “Two sugars, yes?” she said to Mr Hewitt, interposing herself between him and her daughter.
“That’s right,” he replied, craning his neck to peer around her.
“Oops!” giggled Anya, as her fifth poo fell off the pile, which was now overhanging her panties’ waistband, and dropped on to the carpet between her bare feet.
“You’d better clean that up!” her mother said sharply.
“Sorry Mum,” said Anya, reached back between her legs to pick up the fallen poo. It was thick and lumpy. She pushed herself up into a kneeling position, then she pulled down the front of her panties, exposing her shaved pussy to the astonished gazes of Mrs Smithers and Mr Barrowman. A tongue of poo, protruding forward from her gusset, fell away from her clitoris as she tugged her panties downwards. She slapped the thick poo against her pussy and squished it with the palm of her hand. It spread out around her labia, and began to ooze between her fingers. When she removed her messy hand, the poo remained stuck to her pussy, and she replaced her panties over the top.
“Careful Anya!” shrieked Mrs Forsyth behind her, “it’s about to fall out of the back…”
Anya hurriedly reached back and caught the waistband of her panties before it descended any further. She caught her next turd – a slim but firm poo – with her messy hand, and then she carefully got to her feet.
“Sorry about this,” she apologised to the vicar as she lifted up her left leg and placed her foot on the arm of his chair. “But there’s nowhere else to put this – my panties are full.” And in front of his horrified eyes, she pulled her gusset to one side, positioned the tip of the poo at the opening of her vagina, and gradually worked it inside.
“Oh … my God!” exclaimed Mrs Forsyth in disgusted disbelief.
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, dear,” said the vicar, clasping his own handkerchief to his nose.
Anya leaned in towards the vicar a little further, and began to slowly slide her poo in and out of her vagina, closing her eyes as her breathing became heavier and faster.
“Whatever are you doing?” cried Mrs Forsyth, leaning away from Anya as far as possible while staring in horror as the young woman fucked herself with her poo.
“It’s too long!” gasped Anya. “I have to keep bashing it against my cervix to squish it down to a shorter length…”
“Ugh!” said Mr Hewitt, who also had a good view of the poo entering Anya’s vagina. “Can’t you just push it all inside in one go?”
“Not really!” squealed Anya, though she declined to explain as she approached her climax. Letting go of the back of her waistband, she plunged her hand into the poo in the back of her panties, and pulled out a huge handful, which she brought around in front of her, and began smearing it over her naked breasts.
“Now why are you rubbing poo on your breasts?” demanded the vicar, who was beginning to suspect that Anya might be enjoying herself.
“Have to … make some room … in my panties!” panted Anya, fucking herself still harder with one turd while squishing others against her left breast. “Still got some … poo left to … come out!”
“And you couldn’t think of anything better to do with it than rub it on your breasts?” asked Mrs Forsyth incredulously.
“No!” said Anya, truthfully enough. Then she grunted, pushing out another poo into her panties – a long, soft turd that slid out quickly and coiled up, mashing together to form a large, shapeless lump. Anya’s panties sagged lower and lower, revealing part of her buttock cleavage, out of which a rising column of soft poo emerged.
“Ohhh … ohhhhhh … OOHHHHHH!!!” cried Anya, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure spread outwards from her loins, setting her skin tingling. She forced the poo she was holding all the way inside her vagina, and tugged her panties back across to cover her pussy. Then she reached behind her and pulled the back of her panties up, causing the huge mass of poo inside to start oozing out of the leg holes. “Okay … I’m done!” she said breathlessly.
“Finally!” said Carla disapprovingly. “Well if you’ve quite finished disrupting our meeting, perhaps you could sit down and let us continue. I believe we were talking about a fundraiser for the church roof…?”
The meeting continued, but Anya, sitting comfortably in an armchair with her buttocks and pussy surrounded by poo, was barely listening as she absent-mindedly played with her poo-covered nipples…