June 3rd, 2012 
russelltwyce 
“Almost nothing is better than a long hot shower.” The reluctant Ukrainian mail order bride revolved to let the searing stream cascade down her back and her mind hearkened back to the morning after her abduction. The steam in the enclosure was too thick to see her hand at the full arm’s extension and at first, the impatient thumps on the locked door seemed as her heartbeats echoed in warm fog.
“Hurry it up in there!” Franklin had his pelvis thrust forward to hold his bowels from moving into the back of his underwear, “I really need to go!”
“~In that case I’ll take even longer~.” The mail order girl called out and the knocking subsided briefly. Eighteen minutes later, the stream of hot water had grown cool while the pounding had simmered up to the intensity of a jackhammer on a concrete block. Making him wait longer isn’t worth my standing under a cold flow.
“I can’t pinch it off much longer.” The husband the Ukrainian girl didn’t want thundered his knuckles desperately but he was fully committed: he couldn’t make it to another toilet. Fortunately, he didn’t speak loudly enough to be heard clearly or the reluctant bride might’ve delayed longer. Franklin unbuckled his belt to relieve abdomen pressure and to save time for when the door finally unlocked. “I’m about to crap in my pants out here.” He hissed quietly.
The Ukrainian bride slowly wrapped her body in a towel to the tune of a continuous din. She could picture the man dancing outside the door and her mental imagery was bang on the money.
“Please, please, PLEASE!” His frantic voice was plaintive and Franklin’s rear cheeks were as tight as he could possibly clench them. His one hand was even trying to assist his posterior muscles in holding firm.
His urgency is my weapon of opportunity, the mail order Ukrainian girl unlatched the door and opened it slightly, and this seems like time to pull the trigger. She casually turned her attention to examining her reflection.
“I need privacy.” Franklin waddled to the toilet as quickly as his pressed together knees allowed. Could he wait for her to finish up and leave? A cramp provided an instantaneous answer—no!
The Ukrainian girl swiveled from the mirror to directly observe his dilemma. This is an embarrassing situation for him so I’m not leaving quite yet. She watched his look of consternation turn to one of agony.
“I can’t hold off any longer!” Franklin let go his grip on both his ass and his pants. He started to sit but his anatomy took the slight bend as a signal to commence the over-delayed evacuation. The forceful rush into the bowl was loud, messy, noxious, and in progress even before his thighs contacted the cold porcelain: the seat was raised.
“Pooh!” That word is interpreted as the stench of excrement in many languages. the reluctant bride wrinkled her nose in disgust. She stared at Franklin as if she considered him as disgustingly foul as what he was putting into the toilet bowl—which she did. Fanning her face, the Ukrainian mail order bride vacated the room.
Mortification flushed his face to such a brilliant shade of red that it was almost purple: Franklin felt his ears could burst into flames. The Ukrainian girl’s captor finished his bowel movement but his cheeks, both sets, throbbed with shame. He stripped and stepped into the shower only to find both taps yielded ice water. Maybe he should’ve opted for that larger hot water tank.
“I expected sexual bliss from owning a Ukrainian mail order bride.” The final damper on his strained morning hygiene routine was in having to put smelly socks back onto his clean feet. “No, it’s not her fault. It’s just that too much has gone wrong over too short a time span. Tomorrow, everything will improve.”
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