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I needed soooooo much brain bleach after this, I had to wait a few days before I could post this one. I wish there was an eek or a vomit icon to go on this thread.
So, there I was at Wally World (which should be your first warning about what's going to happen). Had to pee, so I went to the restrooms at the back of the store. When I walked in, all of the stall doors were open and the place was quiet, so I thought it was empty. I was wrong.
There she was, straddling the bowl, her pants around her ankles and her shirt tucked up under her massive mammaries. She was about 5'5", weighed 280, easy, and not only was she the winner of the ugly stick piñata contest, life looked to have taken a couple of swings at her, too.
And she was frigging herself in the handicap stall with the door wide open.
After I yelped "What the hell?!?" she gave me this breathy "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm almost done," in that tone that you just know what she's talking about.
Ick! Ick! Ick!!!!
I backed out quick and went to a different stall. Another woman came in, and before I could warn her she went straight into the handicapped stall, too. That was when I heard her "finish". The other woman left cussing, and then Big Mama Exhibitionist hauled herself out of the bathroom. I hid in my stall and waited until she was gone before daring to leave.
Now my husband is mad at me because not only did I go straight to him and tell him -- in graphic detail -- what just happened, I pointed her out when we were shopping (that's how I can figure her height and weight).
They say sharing a traumatic event helps lessen the pain. I can only hope that sharing it with all of you helps, 'cause I need it bad!
So, there I was at Wally World (which should be your first warning about what's going to happen). Had to pee, so I went to the restrooms at the back of the store. When I walked in, all of the stall doors were open and the place was quiet, so I thought it was empty. I was wrong.
There she was, straddling the bowl, her pants around her ankles and her shirt tucked up under her massive mammaries. She was about 5'5", weighed 280, easy, and not only was she the winner of the ugly stick piñata contest, life looked to have taken a couple of swings at her, too.
And she was frigging herself in the handicap stall with the door wide open.
After I yelped "What the hell?!?" she gave me this breathy "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm almost done," in that tone that you just know what she's talking about.
Ick! Ick! Ick!!!!
I backed out quick and went to a different stall. Another woman came in, and before I could warn her she went straight into the handicapped stall, too. That was when I heard her "finish". The other woman left cussing, and then Big Mama Exhibitionist hauled herself out of the bathroom. I hid in my stall and waited until she was gone before daring to leave.
Now my husband is mad at me because not only did I go straight to him and tell him -- in graphic detail -- what just happened, I pointed her out when we were shopping (that's how I can figure her height and weight).
They say sharing a traumatic event helps lessen the pain. I can only hope that sharing it with all of you helps, 'cause I need it bad!
!!!!!!!!!!
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