Tonight, I dropped my sweetie Sam off at his house. As he stepped out of my car I looked over to notice that as usual, his pants had fallen down exposing a large portion of his hairy ass. Only tonight, I noticed something a little different, I peered a bit closer to see.

There it was, shimmering in the moon light, change.

That’s right, Sam had the contents of his pocket, one penny, a dime and a few quarters, sweat-stuck to his bulbous butt cheeks. I started giggling in amusement at the sight of his booty bling.

A bit annoyed he turned around and shouted, “I know!”

“Ha ha ha ha! You know what?” I asked.

Sam just sighed.

“Honey, you have coins stuck to your rear!”

“What?” he asked while turning around. I could hear them drop off and “clink” onto the asphalt.

“Awwww, you are like a piggy bank!” I stated.

“Is that what you are gonna call me now?” he asked.

I thought for a moment, “Why yes, yes I am! My little piggy bank!”

Pooping money is not Sam’s ass’ only magical asset (pun intended). It was actually a few weeks back that it happened.

It was a Friday night, our usual date night. Sam took me out for a romantic all-you-can-eat pasta feast at the ol’ mighty and ever trashy Le Olive Garden. We splurged on all the food we could cram into our guts and then, even got some more to go. It wasn’t a long drive home, but it was late and we were both exhausted after a long work day. Once we arrived to the house, Sam carried the food in while I prepared for a long, hot shower. 

I turned the water on and once it was warm and steamy I stepped inside and pulled the curtain closed. Just as the soothing current hit my skin I heard the knock.

“Hey, Honey, how long are you planning on being in there?” Sam asked.

“Maybe ten minutes, why? Do you need to use the bathroom? I can hurry,” I offered.

“Ya, please do, I don’t know if I can hold it,” he warned.

I let out an annoyed grunt. Quickly, I grabbed some cleanser and began washing my face, Sam knocked again.

“I have to go, NOW!” he shouted.

I began weighing my options, I certainly didn’t want to step out after just getting my body wet, it was cold in the house and I wanted to put on my pajamas and hop into bed without having to re-shower. Of course, being present while Sam released a number two didn’t have much appeal either.

Before I could come up with any conclusion it was too late. Sam swung open the door and made a mad dash to the toilet.

The second his ass heat the seat I could hear the explosion. It was a sound I can only describe, to be like what I would imagine, those living near Mount St. Helens heard when that volcano finally erupted.

First there was a horrific, splattered spit, followed by a loud nuclear thunder.

As quickly as the sound was produced so was the smell. It wafted into the shower and must have been amplified by the steam.

The explosion continued, as his anus erupted again and again.

I placed the rag I was cleaning my face with under my nose in an attempt to buffer the horrendous fumes to no avail. My eyes started watering and I was gagging, trying my damnedest to survive the surprise fecal attack.

The sounds began bellowing through the room once more, Sam’s anus was still not fully drained.

I opened a bottle of shampoo and stuck my nose inside but it didn’t help either, instead I was breathing shitty apples.

I wanted to pull open the curtains and make a run for it but I was too afraid the stench would be even worse on the other side.

Instead, like the coward I am,  I remained still in the shower, with the shampoo bottle stuck to my face, shaking and crying in defeat.

 

Sam didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

Though, now that I have shared this story with the world, he will probably dump me.

 

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