Are Those Bubbles?

I'm not a bad looking guy. In fact, some people have described me as rather good-looking. I've also been called cocky and even arrogant, on occasion. But even a cocky, good-looking fellow like me can be intimidated by a sexy woman. For me, that woman was Penelope. I first met Penelope in college, where we were in several classes together, both being journalism majors. Penelope was stunning, with curly auburn hair and green, feline eyes. She was almost as tall as me and frequently wore those long boots up to her knee with short skirts that offered a seductive glimpse of her bare thighs. Great chest, too. We developed the sort of friendship that classmates have, but I could never work up the courage to ask her on a date. I was always as charming as possible when talking to her, and made her laugh with my witty remarks, but as the final semester of our senior year wound down, I could feel my chance slipping away, and I knew I was going to let it. But Penelope rescued me. She actually asked me out. Dinner, and then maybe go to Ned's, a popular bar just off campus, for drinks. Perfect. I had been dating a somewhat cute sophomore for a couple of weeks, but I called her and broke up immediately, just at the mere prospect of Penelope.

Walking into the restaurant, I could feel the envious eyes of every guy staring at Penelope. She had broken out her Slutty Barbie ensemble for our date, showing plenty of skin and covering anything else skin tight. I was dressed in standard college frat-boy issue polo and khakis, a look that I thought said 'laid back cool'. And I was on. Penelope laughed at everything I said throughout dinner. She even reached across the table at one point, seductively tracing the veins on top of my hand with her finger. The cocky, arrogant me was alive and well. After dinner, Penelope went to the ladies' room so I figured I'd better take a quick piss. Then it all fell apart.

I was standing at the urinal, doing my business, when I felt a sudden urge. It should have been harmless. I hadn't had any previous indications that there might be a problem. It was just a fart, a slight one, I was quite confident about that. But when I let it fly it felt like my ass was blowing a huge bubble. Alarms immediately began to sound. Abort! Abort! I tried to clench my cheeks, but it was too late. When the bubble burst, I felt a warm, chunky liquid oozing down the backs of my legs. I was mortified. It happened so quick, there was no stopping it. Frozen in terror, with my dick, which had suddenly shrunken to grade school levels, still in my hand, I reached back and felt my ass. It was sloppy. I looked at my damp fingertips. They were a slick and shiny brown. I quickly looked around the men's room. I was alone. By the grace of God, I was alone. I slowly went to the mirror and turned to survey the damage. It was severe. A dark stain started at the bottom of my ass and forked violently down the back of both legs.

What the hell was I going to do? That's the only thought I could muster. Penelope was out there, probably standing just outside the door waiting. I went into a stall and pulled out a huge wad of toilet paper and began wiping at my ass like I was training for the All-Valley Karate Championships. Wax on, wax off--on speed! I wondered what Penelope might be thinking out there. She probably thought I was taking a shit, a thought that, ironically, I welcomed. Every man shits. Not every man shits himself. I had cleaned up most of the solid material, but I knew I needed to wet the toilet paper to make one last sweep. Suddenly, someone came into the men's room. Dammit! I had to get to the sink, but I damn sure couldn't do it in my current state. Panicking, I grabbed a fresh wad of toilet paper and dipped it into the toilet and scrubbed my pants continuously until the other visitor exited the men's room. I went to the mirror and checked my pants again. Better, but not great. But what about the smell? I quickly pumped a handful of liquid soap into my palm, unzipped my pants, and shoved the soap into the crack of my ass. Voila.

Penelope smiled when I exited the men's room. "Ready?" I asked. Of course she was ready. She'd been waiting a good ten minutes. "Sure," she said cheerfully. Maybe I was gonna pull this off. When we made it to the car (I was sure to let her lead the way), Penelope asked if I minded if she drove. I don't know why I agreed. I guess I was preoccupied. Then I had an epiphany. I had brought a six-pack of beer. It was in the back seat, still in a paper bag. "Like a beer?" I asked. Of course she wanted a beer. One doesn't wear a dress like that if she hasn't already decided to make a few bad decisions, so what's a beer gonna hurt? After handing her a beer, I grabbed one of my own, but as I opened it I "accidentally" spilled it all over my lap. Oh, darn. "Oh, no," said Penelope, sticking out her bottom lip. "It's okay," I said, "We'll just swing by my apartment and I'll change pants." I was a genius. I was Houdini. What an escape!

On our way I secretly spilled a little more beer onto my crotch, just to ensure proper coverage. By the time we got to my apartment I had regained my swagger. Everything was going to be just fine. I was absolutely sure that I was finally going to sleep with Penelope, even after shitting myself. I was so confident that I even walked in front of her up to the door. No reason for her to think that was anything except beer on my pants, right? But with my peripheral vision I noticed Penelope leaning forward, as if to get a closer look at something that had gained her attention. I turned my head just enough to glimpse her squinting at my rear. Then she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Are those bubbles?" I heard her say.