by moosh » Wed Sep 11, 2013 10:12 pm
I used to work in retail. At one of those big box stores that are so ubiquitous now. I took a part time job there to pay some bills while I was in college.
Customers were rude, the pay sucked, and I dealt with managers who were at best unpleasant. I guess that's par for the course at a place like that.
But I worked there for two years. What kept me going back several times a week wasn't my strong work ethic or a desire to help people find where the "Bed In a Bag" display was. What kept me going back was Crystal.
Crystal was a tall, lanky blonde who worked the evening/night shift full time. She wasn't particularly attractive - not any moreso than any of the college girls I saw every day. But there was something about her. Maybe it was how, despite being thin, she had a nice ass that filled out the generic khaki-colored jeans she wore every day. But there was a seriousness about her, a "I need to be here and do this job well" attitude that most of us just didn't have. And I found out why. She had a 6 year old son she was supporting by herself.
I'd barely tasted the "freedom" of moving out of my parents' house. The worst thing I had to worry about was doing laundry on a regular basis. And yet here I was crushing on a woman my same age who had a kid and a thankless full time job. Maybe what I really saw in her was the faint furrows that such overbearing responsibility had begun to mark on her face. The same creases I saw in my mom's face as I grew up.
We became close friends after awhile. She was used to most of the employees her age working there for just a few months and she told me it was nice to meet someone who could stick around. We took our lunch breaks together. But it wasn't until I had worked there for a year that things got more serious.
The first time Crystal led me by hand into the women's employee restroom, I had no idea what I was in for. I was trying to work out the logistics of how we were going to have sex in that tiny stall without making a lot of noise when she dropped her pants and sat on the toilet. "Watch me."
I don't think I had ever actually watched a woman take a shit before. She did this delightful nose scrunch thing with each undulation of her bowels. She looked at me with the relief a person with a long-held, dark secret might have upon sharing for the first time with another person.
When the wave of stench hit my nose, it was odd. I expected to be repulsed by what I smelled, but the obscenity, the earthiness of it aroused me. I realized that this was more intimate than anything I had ever shared with another human being. People spend their whole lives fucking another person, but rarely do they get to see their partner at their most vulnerable.
Over the next few months, Crystal amazed me with her bowel regularity. It was almost as if she memorized our work schedule and planned her diet accordingly so that she could surprise me with a new fecal adventure every time.
I'm married now to another woman I met in college. I have a kid of my own. I keep a steady job, take my kid to the park, pay my bills. I go through the motions. From all outside appearances, I'm a happy, successful guy. But few know about how terribly I want to break away from it all and watch a beautiful woman take a shit in a stall at a large retail store.
I used to work in retail. At one of those big box stores that are so ubiquitous now. I took a part time job there to pay some bills while I was in college.
Customers were rude, the pay sucked, and I dealt with managers who were at best unpleasant. I guess that's par for the course at a place like that.
But I worked there for two years. What kept me going back several times a week wasn't my strong work ethic or a desire to help people find where the "Bed In a Bag" display was. What kept me going back was Crystal.
Crystal was a tall, lanky blonde who worked the evening/night shift full time. She wasn't particularly attractive - not any moreso than any of the college girls I saw every day. But there was something about her. Maybe it was how, despite being thin, she had a nice ass that filled out the generic khaki-colored jeans she wore every day. But there was a seriousness about her, a "I need to be here and do this job well" attitude that most of us just didn't have. And I found out why. She had a 6 year old son she was supporting by herself.
I'd barely tasted the "freedom" of moving out of my parents' house. The worst thing I had to worry about was doing laundry on a regular basis. And yet here I was crushing on a woman my same age who had a kid and a thankless full time job. Maybe what I really saw in her was the faint furrows that such overbearing responsibility had begun to mark on her face. The same creases I saw in my mom's face as I grew up.
We became close friends after awhile. She was used to most of the employees her age working there for just a few months and she told me it was nice to meet someone who could stick around. We took our lunch breaks together. But it wasn't until I had worked there for a year that things got more serious.
The first time Crystal led me by hand into the women's employee restroom, I had no idea what I was in for. I was trying to work out the logistics of how we were going to have sex in that tiny stall without making a lot of noise when she dropped her pants and sat on the toilet. "Watch me."
I don't think I had ever actually watched a woman take a shit before. She did this delightful nose scrunch thing with each undulation of her bowels. She looked at me with the relief a person with a long-held, dark secret might have upon sharing for the first time with another person.
When the wave of stench hit my nose, it was odd. I expected to be repulsed by what I smelled, but the obscenity, the earthiness of it aroused me. I realized that this was more intimate than anything I had ever shared with another human being. People spend their whole lives fucking another person, but rarely do they get to see their partner at their most vulnerable.
Over the next few months, Crystal amazed me with her bowel regularity. It was almost as if she memorized our work schedule and planned her diet accordingly so that she could surprise me with a new fecal adventure every time.
I'm married now to another woman I met in college. I have a kid of my own. I keep a steady job, take my kid to the park, pay my bills. I go through the motions. From all outside appearances, I'm a happy, successful guy. But few know about how terribly I want to break away from it all and watch a beautiful woman take a shit in a stall at a large retail store.