Mackenzie's Messy Mishap

As for Mackenzie herself, while she has retired from international sports competition I know she still competes locally in Queensland triathlon and other athletic events. She is married to the same Rugby League player who was her boyfriend years earlier and like Hayley and I she has a young daughter and son. Evidently she didn't have the same fertility problems that ran in her family and led her to be and only child and only grandchild.

Mackenzie works in a management role in athletics, and our paths have crossed several times given my own occupation, most recently this week for a meeting in the city. Mackenzie as a 30-something married woman and mother of two is little different to Mackenzie as a child or a teenager, she is just as arrogant and entitled as ever, maybe even more so given her glittering international sports career.

In the long meeting, I kept looking at Mackenzie dressed in a white blouse, knee-length black skirt and black pantyhose and my mind kept taking me back many years to when 18-year-old Mackenzie had her period and shit her panties on the running track in Redlands. I could still hear, see and smell everything in such vivid detail, and under the desk in my trousers and underpants I felt my erection stir at the memories.

I thought about Hayley, knowing my wife had started her period that morning and was having problems with her bowels as a result. We sometimes had period sex like we had done that Sunday morning when we were 18, but it was pretty rare, and I doubted that I would be getting it tonight. Hayley was pretty hormonal and crampy, not to mention tired after a teething baby kept us awake until close to midnight.

This evening, would I be loitering outside the bathroom door, listening to my wife peeing, pooing and farting on the toilet with her knickers around her ankles, and getting toilet paper to wipe her bottom? Would I sneak into the bathroom to smell the lingering odor of Hayley's shit after she finished and flushed the toilet? Would I be acting like some perverted ibis, and doing a bit of dumpster diving with our wheelie bin, extricating my wife's used tampons and dirty period pads and smelling Hayley's musty menstrual blood in the big scarlet stains, and the odor of Hayley's farts at the rear of her napkins?

If it had been a normal day at the office, I might have been able to resist perving on Hayley and respect my wife's privacy, but as I had seen Mackenzie that day, I knew I would be doing all those things when I got home from work. I looked at the clock, counting the hours until I could get home and indulge my perversions, set off in my brain years earlier when I saw Mackenzie's messy mishap that fine and sunny Sunday morning back in 2005.

THE END -- PLEASE RATE AND COMMENT.