Jody Messes Car

I knew how I appreciated my beautiful wife Jody, and how I loved her, and I tried to make it clear to her. But when was the last time I did something just for her? Jody had gone back to work, and after three years she made damn near as much money as I did. It made me realize what she had given up to marry me, and to be a full time mother for fifteen years. And she was so damn nice! I tried to fix dinner for her since I went to work at five in the morning and got home in time to fix something, but I’m ashamed to say that many afternoons I spent with a can of beer in front of the TV instead of cooking something .

A pretty sweet gal. Nearly forty now, she retained her girlish figure and good looks, better than I. Even if I didn’t run up and down hills all day carrying a chainsaw, I’d probably do something to stay tough just to make Jody happy. She’s so pretty, and so demanding in bed. The way she comes after me when the lights are out (or still on, frequently), you’d think we were high school kids who just discovered sex.

So anyway, I get home one day after hearing Deana Carter on my truck radio, a woman’s lament over her slob of a lazy unappreciative husband. And I started working. No way was Jody ever gonna feel like that about me. Well, she probably already did sometimes, but I didn’t want her to. I cared. So I prepped for her.

First I cleaned up the house, especially the kitchen. I tried to think of something good for dinner, but just couldn’t. So I called and made dinner reservations at a really good restaurant in the closest big town, about eighty miles south of home. I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I even went in and showered and shaved, and dressed up in clean new blue jeans and a new flannel shirt, one I hadn’t cut the sleeves off of yet. I made a quick trip to town and bought her some flowers, rushed home and had them in a vase on the kitchen table with a bottle of wine and two glasses when she walked through the door.

Dressed for the office, she was as ever a lovely and sexy sight. Tight gray skirt well above her knees, stockings so sexy, high heel shoes. Her face lit up in an even wider than usual smile when she saw the place and me sitting there.

“Wow!” she said before she even closed the door. “What’s the occasion?”

“Reservations at the Hoo Hoo Inn.”

“Wow! The Hoo Hoo? Now I know something’s up.”

“Baby, all that’s up is I got me a good woman and every now and then I want to make sure you know that I appreciate what I’ve got.”

We loaded up in her car and took off. On a deserted stretch of road, she asked me to pull over so she could pee. I love when she’s got to pee real bad, the way she sort of prances around and holds herself. The closer she gets to being able to do it, the worse she has to go. More than once she has had to change her pants as the result of a snagged zipper or elaborate outfit that took too long to get out of. I’d often fantasized about seeing her do a full fledged number in her pants, and although she often threatened to do so, she never had that I had seen, although she claimed it had happened to her on several occasions. Not that I needed any sort of fantasy scene to get hot for her.

But not this time. She went behind a tree without incident, and came back shortly. I drove on, and she was oddly quiet. “You okay sugarsweet?”

“I’ll be fine. But I really need to go to the bathroom! Bran cereal for breakfast, and a prune Danish for lunch, plus I was in a rush this morning and didn’t have time for my usual morning constitutional.”

“Ah-ha. We can stop at the rest area on our way in.”

“No, sweetheart, I’ll be fine. ” Now I should point out that, erotic visions aside, my only concern was for my wife’s comfort. When we got to the rest area about dusk, I pulled in, figuring we had plenty of time to get to the restaurant. She sort of jogged into the lady’s side while I strolled into the men’s. I had a nice leisurely whiz, and strolled back out. To my surprise, Jody was already sitting in the passenger side.

“That was quick,” I said as I got back in.

“It’s disgusting in there. I was just about to get undressed when I saw something all over the toilet seat. Someone obviously whacked off in there in a big way.”


“It was on the seat, the walls. And someone was in the other stall. I didn’t want to wait in case it was the mad peter beater.”

“You want me to go in and check?”

“Joe! It’s probably a woman.”

“Well, you gotta take a dump, let’s wait and see.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not going to mess my pants. I’ll go when we get to the restaurant.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not a child, Joe. I can handle my toilet needs without your help.”

“Okay, okay.” I pulled back onto the freeway. Jody was like that the rest of the way down. Sort of quiet and a little short fused. But nice about it. We got to the restaurant and went inside. Jody moaned as soon as we got in and saw the little red ropes cordoning off the restrooms. Power cords and a garden hose were threaded into the lady’s room door.

“What do you say, babe? You want to cancel?”

She shook her head. “Not a chance.” She looked over at me, then around the dining room. “It’d be unwise of me to leave a handsome cuss like you sitting unguarded in a room with so many unattended women anyway.”

“We can find you a place…”

“Joe, I’m fine. Let’s quit talking about it.”

So we did. We took our seats, and when the drinks came (more wine for her and soda for me since I had to drive home) and I took her hand and told her how much I would always love her, I had a lump in my throat and she cried some. It was the sort of sweet scene, if you see it going on and you’re not involved, you make like you’re sticking your finger down your throat. So sweet you could puke. But when it happens to you, you’re a little more accepting of it.

I’m very sure the waitress dealing with us had seen it all before, but she was cool and kept her distance. Kind of grim, a couple like us, like this small town restaurant was a big major event in our lives. It wasn’t, really, it’s just where I chose to be when I told her how I felt, because I felt the setting would somehow enhance my sincerity or something. Probably the main thing on Jody’s mind was she needed to take a dump, pronto. And not far back in my mind was I’m gonna get me some in a big way tonight. Always a pleasant thought.

Then came dinner. Jody had a little more wine and a salad and fish. I had a two inch thick slab of prime rib and some horseradish that cleared my sinuses for the next week. We lingered as the moon rose above the horizon, touching each other’s hands and drinking. I stuck with soda pop all night, but Jody had enough wine to be a little unsteady in her high heels in the parking lot. It was dark by the time we left, and the heater in Jody’s car felt real good. I think Jody fell asleep for a while, because we didn’t say much. I was happy, not just from the meal but the glow that comes from doing something that’s right and good.

We were about halfway home when Jody started to stir. Suddenly she sat bolt upright in her seat. “Where are we?”

“About halfway home.”

“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom, Joe.”

“Want me to pull over?”

She squirmed and wiggled in her seat, pressing her hands between her thighs. “No,” she said meekly. “I’ve gotta poop.”

“Look, babe, I can just pull over and find you a tree you can squat behind.”

She rustled around some more, took a couple deep breaths. “I-I-I can’t wait! Joe, It’s coming!” As luck would have it, I was on a long uphill stretch bordered by a steep drop-off with a guardrail. Nowhere to pull over anyhow. Jody grunted a couple times. “I can’t hold it in…” then she sighed and the stench of a bowel movement filled the car.

I was understanding as usual. “Jesus Christ, Jody, did you just fucking fart or what?” I rolled down my window and she started giggling. “That ain’t right, Jesus!”

“That wasn’t a fart,” she giggled. “I’m pooping my panties!” She was holding herself up off the seat now, pushing a large load into her panties. She held herself like that for a minute as my mind raced at this development.

“I can’t sit,” she said. “It’ll go all over.” She sort of laid sideways in her seat, ending up with her head in my lap. My response to her predicament became obvious. “Are you bringing home a salami for the dog, or are you just glad to see me?” She asked sarcastically.

“I’m sorry babe, but this is kind of sexy,” I said. “Sort of kinky.”

“Well try this.” She grunted and I heard a muffled fart and a liquidy crinkling noise. She repeated it, then did it a third time. Then she sighed and rocked the side of her face against my erection, which was about to rip my jeans. “I don’t know what’s worse! Pooping my panties or discovering my husband’s a pervert!”

I didn’t know what to say, until the motion of her face indicated she found my reaction a little interesting. Soon I felt hot and wet, and realized she was licking the bulge in the front of my jeans, then nibbling it, like she was trying to give me a blowjob. I turned on the dome light and saw she had one hand feeling the seat of her skirt, poking and pushing the soft wet bulge in her panties. I had a vision of what the State Troopers would find if I crashed the car, so I tried to focus on my driving, but that piece of road has never seemed longer. Jody kept licking and biting my erection, and a couple times she grunted and squirmed and pushed more shit into her underwear. I was trying desperately not to jis in my pants like a high school kid, but Jody was making it hard, so to speak.

But I got home at last. Fortunately I never had to stop for anything, because my pants were very wet in front…with Jody’s spit! I helped her out of the car, and when she spread her legs I could see he mound of poop that had leaked out of her panties between her thighs. We walked inside, bumping against each other, and straight to the bathroom. I stripped fast, while Jody stood looking groggy, still feeling her ass through her skirt. Naked at last, and pointing true north, I started stripping Jody. Her blouse had a wet brown stain in the back, up to her bra, which I left on her.

Her skirt was ruined, as was her pink satin half slip. I raised it and got to her panties at last…white cotton french cut, with little pink flowers. Full, bulging, hanging down in back, soaked through and smeared with wet brown poop. A big chunk fell onto the floor with a wet splat, then Jody stepped into the bathtub in her heels. I started the water and got in with her and screwed her for a long time, first around her panties, then I stripped them off her and cleaned her up, and we screwed naked , standing up in the hot water blast from the shower, her soiled panties sloshing at our feet.

That was it for then. I mean, we’re married, every now and then something happens that turns both of you on, and you happen to be together and it’s real, real good. But it’s not necessarily something you want to do every night. Maybe.