the neighbor

by bluepervina - © 2003

( MF, fff, f/bg, voy, suggested ws and scat, no sex, suggested inc )

This is a little bit different. For a variety of (mostly) defensible reasons I enjoy assuming a persona from time to time and posting as that other person on message boards. The style of board posts can be a little off-putting to some fiction fans (especially since character dialog is minimal); despite that, it does have the frequent benefit of being a little more to-the-point, since a forum post typically requires an economy of words. I present here the posts I made as "the neighbor", starting with the oldest (first) post and continuing down to the most recent.

October 12, 2003.

Longtime lurker, first time poster.

I was out doing yardwork this afternoon, and I saw something that will interest this board. Our backyard has a seven-foot wooden privacy fence around it. Everyone's backyard in our neighborhood has that kind of fence.

Our neighbors on one side are a little older than us, but they are both very good-looking, as are their kids. The wife in particular is a pleasure to see through the cracks in the privacy fence when she is sunning herself out beside their pool. They don't swim or lay out in the nude or anything, but she still is one "hot mamma" in her little string bikini!

So this afternoon I'm finished weeding around the crepe myrtles on this same side of the yard as the fence that I like to peep through. I check to make sure my wife and kids are still gone to the Jack Black movie, because I've caught hell for peeping before, and I don't want to hear it from her again. I look through the fence, and there's the gorgeous neighbor lady. She's all by herself out getting some sun.

Then she stands up and does this kind of funny half-squat shivering dance. Her hands are on her stomach, and she's staring hard back at her house. It hits me -- she's got to go to the bathroom, and she's not going to make it inside! Well, I figure she'll just do what my own kids do when they've got to go and they're out here -- they just jump in the pool and pee while they're in the water.

But she doesn't do that, and I can immediately see why. As she turns and shivers and half-squats some more, I see a bulge in the back of her bikini bottom. She crapped her pants!

She waddles over away from the pool and the back of her house, right toward the side and the back corner where I'm standing! At first I'm paranoid she'll know I'm there, but then I figure she's too distracted by her problem to really notice. The sun was pretty much straight up in the sky then, anyway, so it's not like my shadow was going to give me away.

So she unties her bikini bottoms and lets the back fall free -- and splat! goes her poop, right onto the dirt between her feet. Then she squats and pisses for about a whole minutes, then she grunts and groans, and I realize she's pooping some more. Finally, just like a cat, she stands up and sweeps a whole bunch of mulch and dirt over her mess with her feet.

She goes back bare-assed to the back of her house, turns on this hose, and calmly washes off her backside, her legs, her feet, then she washes out her bikini bottoms. She puts them back on, jumps into the pool and proceeds to swim around for at least another fifteen minutes.

I finally couldn't stand it anymore and had to go inside. The smell from her mess was really getting to me, and I ended up jumping all over my own wife just about the instant she got home!

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October 25, 2003.

Well, it was nice to see my post get added to this great forum, so I'll give everybody another story I experienced, if that's OK.

I walk my dog every evening after work, and my route usually goes into the neighborhood next to ours, which is older with smaller houses, and a lot of married students live there who attend the nearby university. Sometimes this one particular college girl is out power walking, and that's always a treat. She wears spandex and these bouncy-looking tennis shoes and a sports bra. Her ponytail bounces all around. Very nice.

So one day last summer I'm with the dog in this older neighborhood, and it's dusk, very dark in the shadows of the trees, etc. This college girl is about one hundred feet ahead of me, and she hasn't noticed I'm behind her yet. She's doing her big strides walking, swinging her arms, when all of a sudden she stops dead in her tracks, doubles over, and grabs at her midsection. My dog picks that moment to get super-interested in something beside the sidewalk, so I have to stop for a little bit to let him finish his investigation. Meanwhile, the girl stands up straight and hurries off the sidewalk, directly into the bushes beside her.

I think it's weird, and urge my dog to keep walking, so that we can pass by the shrubbery where she disappeared. As we get level with the spot, I can see her squatting there just behind the first layer of leaves. The dog of course knows she's there, and he starts growling and doing his thing trying to protect me. The girl just stares up at me with this wide-eyed panic, clearly suffering. Then I hear a long series of wet sloppy farts, along with that gushing, splashy sound that watery crap makes -- we all know that sound. She finally lets out a breath and laughs too loud, almost tips over. "Diarrhea, like you can't believe!" she says, and lets out another laugh and another flood of mess.

Part of me wanted to see it running out from under her, through the dirt and grass and onto the sidewalk where I was standing. It had an amazing stink to it. The dog caught the whiff, too, and he started to whine. But then part of me felt really bad for her, and I remembered my manners. I asked if I could help. She just chuckled in an embarrassed way and said "No, but thanks", and so I told her "Sorry" and quickly moved my dog and myself way on down the road.

We doubled back about ten minutes later. I hoped we'd pass her or see her someplace, but she was long gone. Passing her spot in the bushes, the smell was still in the air, but by then it was too dark to see any kind of puddles or anything underneath the shrubs. So I took my dog on home and jumped in the shower for some relief.

And now when I see that girl out walking in the evenings, she throws me a real friendly wave and smile, but we don't speak, not even to say "hi". I'm sure that's the way it'll continue, too.

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October 31, 2003

I can't help but add an observation that is related to Noreen's situation with her daughter's pants-pooping. In times gone by I have seen those sort of posts by other people on other sites before, and I was always a little skeptical as to whether or not they were real or just fantasies. But then there was a very odd thing that I witnessed two summers ago, and I began to think that maybe there really are people out there who like to do that sort of thing. And now that I've been reading Noreen's posts, I'm more sure than ever that what I saw two years ago was people intentionally pooping in their pants. My wife was with me at the time, and she had said "There's something weird about that...." in this voice full of shock and disbelief, but I don't think she quite figured it out, either. But it was clear that, like me, she was very disturbed that there were two people together in public with full-of-poop pants.

We were in a McDonald's on a Tuesday, right in the middle of the afternoon, three to three-thirty. Very few other patrons were in the place, and there appeared to be less employees, too. It was apparently a slow time of day, but we were meeting for a late lunch since both of us had decided to work late and just skip dinner that night. It was really hot that day, too, and in walks three girls dressed really sexily (in my opinion, at least). They each wore their own variety of super-short shorts, spaghetti-strap top, no bra, flip flops. They all three looked about sixteen or seventeen years old, definitely not grown women, but also not middle school girls, either. Gorgeous girls, I'm sure you can imagine, and I remember I was facing the door they came in, so I got to watch them coming right on by. My wife of course noticed my stares and glanced around, then watched them with me as they passed. She isn't really a jealous woman, and so she just chuckled a little and went back to eating.

But then my wife gasped and gawked at something over my shoulder, in the same direction the girls had gone--toward the bathrooms. My wife muttered, "Oh my God," and as I turned she whispered, "That girl just crapped her pants! She couldn't get into the bathroom quick enough." And there was one of those girls, bent over with her hands on her stomach, moaning, right at the closed door of the bathroom. Her two friends stood on either side. One was rubbing her back and saying something, and the other was clutching her own stomach and doing this funny little bathroom dance. She had this tortured look on her face, and she kept glancing over at us while we stared like tourists. Then girl who'd pooped her pants started talking. We were the only customers on that side of the restaraunt, so it was easy to hear what they were saying.

She said something like, "I knew I wouldn't make it!" Then, "Oh God, I'm so embarrassed!"

The friend rubbing her back said, "Do you feel better?" and other things like that, to comfort the girl.

The third girl, who had still not gone into the bathroom, suddenly turned away from us and raised her voice at the other two. "I gotta go too, so get out of the way before I--" and you can guess what happened. The girl had taken but one step when she stopped still and sort of squeaked like a mouse, reached both hands back behind her to cover her little khaki shorts, and then all we heard were the "ffffrrrttttthhhhh" and "ffflfllltttt" of these nasty farts she made. And then she sort of said, "Ohhhhh," in this groaning voice, and just like that we could smell this strong shit odor float over us in a thick cloud. My wife and I couldn't look away, and the girls didn't seem to care much about that. They were very absorbed in what was happening. The first pooping girl had moved somehow and caused pieces of turds to squish out from around her shorts-legs, dropping down her thighs and calves and onto the tiled floor, leaving these wet brown streaks on her pretty skin. The other pooping girl hadn't dropped anything out of her pants yet, but with both hands she was pushing on the huge lump covering her backside. It was one of those surreal moments when you suddenly think that it's not possibly really happening, that you are hallucinating. The girls were just standing there rubbing on their stained and wet pants, stinking up one whole side of a McDonald's, and my wife and I were just as absorbed with blatantly ogling every little thing they did.

Then the girl who hadn't pooped said that maybe they should go on in the bathroom and try to clean up. But the second pooping girl said "Why? We're already filthy, we might as well just go back to my house and clean up there." The other pooping girl agreed, and so they turned around. "Just walk careful so you don't drop it out everywhere," the second pooping girl said. When they passed us on their way back out the door, each of the three girls whispered "Sorry" to us and sort of flashed this shameful smirk. We watched them go, both girls now dripping liquid bits of crap down the backs of their legs in thin trails like the seams on pantyhose. Their car was out of sight from our vantage point, it was too far beyond the door that led them outside. They were through the door and gone in no time at all, despite trying to be careful not to make their messes worse.

Looking down at the floor, my wife and I both saw at the exact same time a small turd that had splattered onto the tile right beside us as the girls had walked by. My wife gagged, got up, and ran out the door to the parking lot. I was sickened and excited, of course, but I did have to hold my breath while I picked up our trash and took the tray back to its place. I thought about telling one of the McDonald's employees before I left, but I remember thinking suddenly that it would be more funny if they just discovered it for themselves. My wife was all watery-eyed from trying to choke back her urge to puke, but a few more moments in the fresh outside air had her back to normal again. We glanced around, but the girls were gone.

So now I'm thinking that those girls definitely did that on purpose. It was just too weird that two girls would have the exact same accident at the exact same time and place like that. I remember wondering about that back then, until I'd concluded that nobody would ever go out and do that with a friend, since that wasn't something even a friend would ever know that you liked to do. That was just too much for me to believe, I guess. But now, considering Noreen's daugther and her friend, I guess I know that there's definitely girls out there who would do things like that and get their friends involved, too. Amazing! It's probably about as rare as lighting striking twice, but I do hope I get to witness another accident or two like that some day....

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November 6, 2003

It was nice to see that some of you got a charge out of the last experience I talked about here. Like I said before, I couldn't believe that girls actually would like pooping publicly and shaming themselves like that, but they sure did! I know I'll never forget it....

There was a question by Amber about my wife and her poops. I'll try to explain if I can. My wife is very easy-going and open-minded about pretty much everything. So she's never been hung up or shy about her bathroom functions. We've always had a household that doesn't bother closing doors or maintaining privacy when bathroom things are going on. I often pee and poop in the toilet right next to my wife while she does her hair or makeup in our bathroom. She does the same with me, often pooping and peeing while I'm shaving or whatever. Personally, I think it builds a bond that's so strong and intimate. It's really to me the next-closest intimacy you can have with another person, other than sexual intercourse. I love that we are that relaxed and free with each other, that we can stink up our little bathroom and we'll still stick around and talk and do our thing and not freak out or get irritated.

Anyway, so I've seen and heard my wife pee and poop more times than I can possibly remember. We've been married for fifteen years now, so you can imagine! I have always loved the erotic aspects of pooping, especially, so I tend to try to glance between my wife's legs when she is straining, and I like the smell most of the time. When she stands up I like to glance at what she's left in the toilet, and often we'll talk about it a little. "That was a huge one!" or "Look at that weird color!" Things like that. My wife does not get as excited as I do about poop, but she does have a good attitude about my feelings, so she's always been accomodating and nice. She loves me, what else can I say! I'm a lucky man, I know.

There have been more than a few times when I've been really horny, and I've asked (or my wife has just done it) her to get up on her toes on the seat, crouching, so I can watch her poop come out really good. Every now and then she'll go out into the backyard with me and poop here or there, just for the strangeness of it. She's pooped in the kitchen and the garage a few times, too, but she doesn't like that very much because the smell seems harder to dissipate. We tend to enjoy really, really fun and satisfying sex when she lets me watch her poop beforehand. It does seem to turn her on to the point that she is as frisky as I am when we jump into the bed. My wife won't ever touch her own poop or do anything as wild as that, but she will let me handle her poops from time to time, and she will often leave her bottom unwiped if we are going straight from the bathroom to the bedroom. It's not like she does any kind of scat stuff sexually, you understand-- she's just nice to me.

I can't say enough how incredible she is, as my wife and my best friend and everything, because I know without a doubt that a lot of other men could never, ever have that kind of a relationship with their spouse. She does have her own wild fantasies and turn-ons, so I try to indulge her whenever I can. Those lusts of hers are off-topic to this board, since they have nothing whatsoever to do with toilet functions. I won't bother taking up any more space about it except to say that she actively participates in a board or two that *she* has found that deal with some of the things that she likes to get all juiced about.

I hope I explained about my wife well enough. If Amber or anyone wants to know more, just ask, I guess! (I'm very sorry this post is going to be so long. I hope it isn't cut up too much.)

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November 6, 2003

I'm sending another post because I forgot to answer a question. I hope it's OK.

To Amber -- You asked if anything else has happened with my next door neighbor. Unfortunately, I've only seen her poop that one time. I have spied more than a few times in their windows and have watched she and her husband have sex, though. She is bisexual, so there have been some really great "peeping" moments over the years concerning her. That was why I was able to witness her pooping problem in the first place -- I'd gotten in the habit of spying on her whenever the opportunity came up. I will say that she is definitely a liberal kind of lady, and so's her husband. He lets her do whatever she wants with whomever she wants to do it with, but I guess that's what works for them. He likes to videotape her with the other women, especially, and she sort of bosses everybody in the bedroom around. It's great because their bedroom is on our side of the house, has big french doors in the back and a window on the side, and plenty of shrubs and shadows to hide in. I can look in through the places where the blinds are gapped a little, and I can usually see great.

As for my own poop experiences, I should let you know that my own poop doesn't interest me nearly as much as poops made by women. I love to watch and smell and hear and see the aftermath of women pooping. My own poop is usually soft and nasty-looking and not all that wonderful to me, but I tend to have a *giant* distraction when it comes to being around women when they poop -- or the gifts they leave behind! When I was a kid, there were several poop-related experiences I had that definitely "changed me" and made me the female-poop-obsessed man that I am today. I will spend some time this weekend trying to write out at least one or two of those experiences. I'm actually curious if anyone else might have had some similar things happen to them, so I guess now is the time I should say "stay tuned"!

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November 19, 2003

To JW -- You asked me a while back if I ever had to help my wife with her bowel movements, such as help her dig out a poop or give her an enema....

My wife has never asked me nor allowed me to dig poop out of her rear. It has been discussed between us on multiple occasions over the years, but she will not relent. I guess you could say that it's one of those boundaries that she won't cross. If you've read my other posts you know that she's a wonderful, generous wife; she indulges me and pleases me in so many other ways that I really can't complain about not being able to dig it right out of her like that. Truly, though, she's never really backed up all that much. She doesn't suffer from constipation hardly at all, even with her cycle. Mostly, she just goes from regular/normal bm's to runny/loose bm's, and that's about it. Maybe a couple times a year she gets into a "stopped up" situation, but she takes fiber or laxatives, and then everything's OK.

As for enemas, my wife has a little circle of friends who go and get them once every season (or quarter, for you business people). It's like this tradition that they've had going all the way back to her college days, so since it pre-dates me, I'm pretty much left out in the cold as far as having anything to do with it. She just does that for fun, she says. She'll tell me "It's a girl thing" and to relax. They take a weekend every three months and go off to this spa and get the full treatment. Facials, massages, mud baths, enemas, you name it. And I can't complain, because she always comes back feeling great and horny as hell, so I definitely benefit from being left out.

And, obviously, if my wife isn't constipated much, then she doesn't have any true therapeutic need for enemas at home. However, she does indulge me once or twice a year and lets me get out our little Walgreens enema kit. I'll give her some warm soap and water and she'll let me watch it all come out a few minutes later, then we run to the bed and go crazy back there for a while. Like I've said before, she's a wonderful woman, and I'm lucky to have her!

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November 21, 2003

Here are some memories from my childhood. Please let me know if you have experienced anything similar.

Growing up I had an older sister and a younger sister. My older sister was nine when I was five, and my younger sister was three. That was the age when my older sister decided she would have us start playing "doctor" with her. She already played doctor with her girlfriends from down the street. I used to spy on them all the time and get so confused and excited about all the weird things they did. It's no doubt that it was all that spying that set me on the road to the expert voyeur that I am today. Anyway, I'd always feared that my sister would discover me watching her, but that was half of the thrill, of course. It turned out that she'd known it all along, and it wasn't until we moved to a different neighborhood that she brought me (and our little sister) into her doctor games-- simply because her other friends were no longer around.

To be on-topic, I should tell you that my older sister liked to poop as a major part of her doctor games. She kept a Corelle soup bowl in her room that she had managed to steal from the kitchen ages before, and whenever she got in the mood to play doctor, she'd eventually pull it out and use it as her "specimen bowl". My job in those games was to hold the bowl under her and catch all her poop and pee. My little sister usually got the job of wiping.

There was other stuff involved in playing doctor, of course, but all of that is off-topic, I suppose. I guess I should just say that my older sister had a huge imagination and developed this elaborate construct that she'd lead us through like a ringmaster in a circus. It changed in subtle ways from one time to the next, but the pooping and peeing into the bowl always was a part of it at some point in the proceedings. At the end of our play time, my sister would order me into the bathroom to dispose of her specimen and to clean out the bowl, while my little sister usually stayed back in the room with her to help her get back into her clothes. Then my older sister would take the bowl back when I returned, and she would hide it away until the next time.

We played doctor like that at least once or twice a month, usually when our parents were busy on a Saturday cleaning or doing yardwork and stuff, when the "coast was clear". We would lock ourselves in her room for a couple hours and play our little game, and not even once did we come close to getting caught. My sister was a master of planning, I guess you could say. (She's a retail manager now, as an adult, so I don't know if there's a connection there or not.) We kept playing doctor until she was almost out of eighth grade, so I suppose she was fourteen or so, and she finally got her first boyfriend. After that, we were long-forgotten, and it was all about the boyfriends from then on.

My little sister and I never once played doctor as a two-some. It was not even an interesting idea to me, and I don't think she thought it was, either. We had to have our older sister there telling us what to do and how to do it in order for us to enjoy the game. So when that boyfriend came into the picture, my little sister just started spending more time with her friends, and I spent more time with mine. I continued to spy on both sisters, though, as often as possible, and that was very rewarding, let me tell you!

Another thing I need to mention is that my little sister-- as far back as I can remember-- had a habit of never flushing the toilet that we all shared in our upstairs part of the house. She pooped at least once a day, I guess, so just about every day I'd end up staring at a big log or two of hers floating down there in the commode while I peed all over it. My older sister and I never got on her case about it, though, considering the whole doctor game we liked to play.

It was so weird to look back on all that as I got older, because for my entire childhood I had the regular occurrence of seeing the poop made by both of my sisters. And the funniest part of that is the fact that they never once saw one of mine!

Anyway, my little sister is still in graduate school, sort of a "professional student" and all that. She and I are a lot closer to each other emotionally than we are to our older sister, who lives several states away now and isn't very affectionate when we see her or talk to her. She's sort of an "all business" kind of person now. My little sister is like a hippie from the old days, smokes a lot of pot and has tons of piercings and tattoos, and she's a really funny, sensitive, loving girl. Me, I'm the boring middle sibling, the brother who came out normal. Except for craving the sight of a woman's poop, of course. And except for spying on the neighbors all the time, too. But those are secrets only you guys and my wife knows-- so to the rest of the world I'm just your average Joe. I'm kind of proud of that, all things considered.

by bluepervina, © 2003

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