Toilets are for Prudes

I am not a sexual deviant by any means. (I realize that is an awkward way to start a post, but go with me on this one.) I am relatively tame (see also: prude) and frankly, I don’t particularly care to discuss sexual exploits of any kind in general. However. It has come to my attention that it is absolutely necessary, for the betterment and entertainment of human kind, for me to divulge the sexual habits of my coworker, Anastasia.

It is difficult to decide where to begin. In short, Anastasia is bisexual, into BDSM, has been collared (Google it) by her boyfriend (14 years her senior) and they are swingers. They are also hardcore preppers. ‘Nuff said. None of these things are necessarily wrong, to each their own in my opinion. However, since she feels the need to share her experiences with me and a majority of our office, her coital conundrums are fair game.

Ana and I had a conversation recently that genuinely concerned me. A woman started staying at her and boyfriend’s house on the weekend. She referred to the woman as Sissy, the sister wife she had always wanted. Sissy and Anastasia let Spock (which is how I will refer to her boyfriend going forward), tie them up, blind fold them, beat them, etc… again, not my cup of tea, but not out of the ordinary for Anastasia so I wasn’t particularly shocked by anything that she told me.

Sissy had taken to sleeping in bed with Anastasia whilst Spock slept in his usual manner– downstairs on the couch. Ana said that she enjoyed the company of her sister (Sissy) and their companionship. I am not known for being able to keep my mouth shut, so I just let her know that it was borderline incestuous to consider someone she was sleeping with her sister. She didn’t understand what I was getting at, mostly because she doesn’t have any sisters, but usually the things I say are lost on her anyway.

Weeks of this relationship went by and Ana continued to tell me all the troubles Sissy was facing with her kids, cancer, etc… For the record I had already decided that this Sissy character was a big fat liar about everything, but when I told Ana this, she became incredibly defensive. A few days after I pointed out that this Sissy character seemed to be a compulsive liar, I found Ana in the courtyard at work bawling her beady little eyes out.

I asked her what was wrong and she wiped her snively little oinker and proceeded to tell me that Sissy had been over all weekend and they had all been drinking (did I forget to mention that Ana is an alcoholic? Remind me to tell you about our work Christmas party a few years ago.) and she had passed out–Spock and Sissy stayed up to have fun. Now, judging by her inability to form complete sentences, much less take a drag from her cigarette I decided to take a moment to contemplate the variety of things that could be plaguing my slutty coworker (oh yes, she is slutty, but we will get to that another time). My first thought was that perhaps Spock had knocked Sissy up. This naturally would have thrown Ana into a fit as she has been weighing the option of having her uterus removed as her boyfriend doesn’t want to have children. While I agree that she shouldn’t procreate, I think that one having any body part removed for anyone, especially someone that is not legally bound to them in holy matrimony, is one of the most ridiculous things I have ever heard. Although this is about part for the course when it comes to Ana. Luckily for her innards there isn’t a doctor in the area that will remove a perfectly good uterus from a 26-year-old woman. While this scenario seemed plausible, I decided that Sissy likely wouldn’t be peeing positive on a stick at this point.

The second scenario that ran through my mind was that perhaps Spock had relinquished Ana’s collar, kicked her out of the house and had Sissy move in. I hoped for this scenario, not because I wanted the worst for Ana, but rather I wanted the best. Spock is a pedophile, and according to a number of my other coworkers, Ana had been living with Spock (again, 14 years her senior) since she was somewhere between 14 and 17 years old. Gross.

Through hyperventilated fits of tears she managed to say that when she had woken up the following morning she found Sissy lying in the shower. I immediately thought that Spock had killed her and made sure I had my phone at the ready just in case I needed to call the fuzz for backup. Looking back, I wish it was something as normal as homicide. I hesitantly asked what she was doing laying in the shower to which Ana responded with the fact that Sissy had passed out there which could only mean one thing. I had no choice; I took the bait and asked her what that meant. It was then that she flew into another fit of incoherent sobs. After about five minutes I was able to calm her down. I told her to take deep breaths and just tell me what a chick passed out in the shower meant. Then she said it:

“That means he took her into the shower and pissed inside of her!”

Let’s take a moment to pause and consider what was just heard.

My head literally exploded with her final syllable as I tried to wrap my mind around what she had just told me. Naturally I had no choice but to consider the logistics of the matter. I am no expert when it comes to male urination, but I was relatively certain that a man couldn’t be erect and urinate at the same time. So if a man must be flaccid in order to urinate, how exactly does he position himself inside of a woman in such a way that would allow him to wiz inside of her?

I did the only think I could think of to do in that moment. I stared blankly at my sniveling coworker and blinked. I am sure she could sense my obvious (and very well placed) discomfort. She then, THEN, had the gall to ask me if I had ever let a man do the same to me. I continued to stare and blink. She said then that I should really allow a man to do so as it is one of the most amazing feelings in the world and I clearly had no idea what it was that I was missing. I couldn’t respond. My lips were literally fused together, I had no choice! If I were to let even a breath slip out I would certainly have let loose a verbose lecture about how not only was it gross, but unsanitary and it was not even close to the realm of normal. I can handle BDSM, I at least understand it, but anything that has to do with any sort of human waste is beyond my world of understanding. All I could think about was how confused she typically is every time she gets a damn urinary tract infection (it happens often– at least once a month), and how clean she claims to be, and how she just must be prone to them because she has a lot of (undiagnosed) medical problems.

Fortunately it was at that moment, when I thought I could not hold in another word that Ana got a telephone call. It was from Spock and she leapt up from her snot soaked seat and ran to the other end of the courtyard to talk with her dearly beloved. I walked inside of the office, set my things down, and calmly text messaged a friend:

“If you are an American when you go into the bathroom, what are you while you’re in the bathroom?” My friend happens to be fond of my lame jokes…at least he claims to be fond of them to my face.

“Really. What?” he responded, I could clearly (as I am sure you can as well) sense the anticipation in his text.


“Uh, what?”


4 thoughts on “Toilets are for Prudes

  1. Wonderful blog you have here but I was curious about if you knew of any discussion boards that cover the same topics discussed in this article?
    I’d really like to be a part of group where I can get opinions from other knowledgeable people that share the same interest.
    If you have any recommendations, please let me know. Thanks!


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