It was a stormy night, and I had spent hours watching movies, munching on some junk food. As I woke up in the middle of the afternoon, my stomach was crying out for mercy. I dragged myself to the bathroom, grateful that it was empty. But as I sat down on the toilet seat, I realized I had made a terrible mistake.
The toilet was one of those horrid communal ones connected to the apartment above us. The only way I could have privacy was if I sat with my back facing the door, and even then, I could hear every sound from upstairs. I let out a loud sigh as I began to unload my guts, hoping against hope that no one was upstairs using their facilities.
Meanwhile, back in our bedroom, Abby was going through the same routine. Thanks to the shared walls and thin partitions, I could hear every gurgle and fart from her end. It seemed like we were sharing more than just a bathroom that day.
As I finished up and stood to flush, I heard Abby fart loudly from the other side of the wall. I couldn't help but chuckle at her awkward timing. I called out to her, letting her know I was done and that she could use the toilet if she needed to.
But instead of answering, I heard footsteps approaching the bathroom. To my surprise, Abby appeared in the doorway, looking a little embarrassed but determined. She shuffled awkwardly to the toilet seat, lowered her pants, and let out a stinker that echoed through the chipped porcelain. It was loud and juicy, sending a wave of heat rushing to my face.
As she finished up and rose from the toilet, she turned around towards me, presenting her soiled backside. She knew I couldn't resist the urge to help her out. I gingerly wiped away the mess, taking care not to smear anything. However, even after the third try, there was still a faint smudge on her pink cheeks.
"Come on, Abby," I said, exasperated. "I can't get it all. You're going to have to help me out here."
Without a word, she bent over slightly at my lower waist level, offering up her perfect little ass in all its glory. I took hold of her underwear and pulled them down, exposing her tight little hole. Then, with a gentle yet firm pressure, I pushed two fingers deep inside her, seeking any remaining traces of fecal matter.
"Now squat and grip the toilet seat," I instructed.
She obeyed, pressing her cheeks together as hard as she could. I continued to probe and clean, taking my time to ensure everything was spotless. When I was finally satisfied, I pulled my fingers out, admiring the transparent streaks of water glistening on my fingertips.
"There you go," I said, patting her on the back. "All done."
As she pulled her pants back up, I couldn't help but notice the blush that had spread across her cheeks. She seemed both embarrassed and grateful for my assistance. I suppose when you share a bathroom with your roommate, sometimes you just have to get used to the double trouble.
