INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER – Jamie and Hayley are 18-year-old star triathletes from Brisbane Australia who belong to an elite training squad. Neither has any time for one of the girls in the group named Mackenzie, also 18, who is a spoiled, stuck-up, overly-competitive and arrogant diva, who thinks she is better than everyone else.
One Sunday morning, Jamie goes for a run alone when Hayley is out of action due to period pain, and by chance sees Mackenzie make a big mistake and get herself into a messy, smelly and humiliating situation she would not want anyone else to see. What effect will Jamie’s observations have on him and his sex life with Hayley? Read this story to find out.
This work contains strong fetish scenes of urination, scat, menstruation (including period sex), soiled panties and voyeurism. It these themes aren’t your thing, it may be best not to read it. Otherwise, please enjoy this story and rate and comment. All characters are 18 and older and they and the events in this story are fictional, with similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional.
When I was born my parents said I could run before I could walk. I learned to ride a bike without trainer wheels by age four. And keeping me out of the water was like asking a fish, dolphin or seal to stay out of the water for any length of time. As I got older, my love of running, swimming and cycling increased and fortunately there was just the perfect sport for a boy with those interests — triathlon.
Growing up in the city of Brisbane could not have been better, with the Queensland capital located in Australia’s sub-tropics and providing great weather for triathlon. I was accepted into an elite triathlon development club aged ten, and this really helped me with my chosen sport. We got to train and compete in all sorts of awesome places around South Queensland — along the city and the banks of the Brisbane River, the beaches of Wynnum and Manly and in other coastal areas around Moreton Bay and the Redlands area.
We also got to go to the Gold Coast and compete in scenic places such as Southport, Surfer’s Paradise, Broadbeach, Burleigh Heads, Palm Beach-Currumbin and the Coolangatta/Tweed Heads region on the border between Queensland and New South Wales. And if we were slack on the cycling, we got plenty of practice cycling up to Mount Coot-ha west of Brisbane or up Mount Tambourine in the Gold Coast Hinterland.
The triathlon club was an important part of my life, not only because of the sport but because I got to meet other kids into triathlon and make many good friends, both male and female, including one special friend. Her name was Hayley, and she was the same age as me. A petite and stunningly pretty girl with long blonde hair, fair skin and sapphire blue eyes we were the same age and met for the first time when we were both aged eleven.
Quickly becoming good friends, Hayley and I began dating in our mid-teens and were true childhood sweethearts. Once while walking hand-in-hand across Brisbane’s Story Bridge looking at the river and city skyline I couldn’t believe that my beautiful girlfriend was actually real and that she loved me. It was a far cry from our first meeting in 1997, when I clumsily asked Hayley ‘if she liked stuff’, called her Holly rather than Hayley and said my name was Jimmy, when of course it was Jamie. She must have thought this tall skinny red-haired boy was a complete imbecile, maybe the ‘special needs’ sibling of a boy or girl who was in the training squad.
While Hayley and I were very much in love and we both had plenty of friends among our fellow triathletes, there was one exception, and her name was Mackenzie Gold. Gold was an appropriate surname for Mackenzie, as winning was her obsession in life. That was understandable in a way. The triathlon training squad was elite, you didn’t just get in there and you had to be good enough to be selected to join the development program. Parents exasperated with their overweight, couch potato, computer game addicted son could not sign him up to get him in shape. Winning was important. But Mackenzie took things up past level eleven in terms of competition.
It wasn’t just Mackenzie being over-competitive that was a problem, it was that she was a diva with it, a total princess who wanted everything on her terms. And if Princess Mackenzie did not get what she wanted, a discrete complaint to her parents ensured that Mummy and Daddy made sure their daughter’s diva demands at the triathlon club were met.
Mackenzie had her heights set on loftier things than competing and winning triathlons in Queensland, she wanted national and international success. And with triathlon recently becoming an Olympic sport, Mackenzie had her eyes set on the biggest sporting stage on Earth.
Without doubt, Mackenzie had the talent to succeed, she was the best girl in the program. One could not fault her commitment and focus to her sport either. Her good looks — Mackenzie tall, slim and pursaklar escort pretty with long dark brown hair and brown eyes — also did not hurt her prospects of stardom. But did she have to be such an insufferable, stuck up and spoiled bitch all of the time?
If assessing spoiled people, Mackenzie was not the type of girl spoiled with material things. She wasn’t an older version of the tantrum-throwing type of brat one sees in action at a shopping center either. Mackenzie was the type of child raised to believe they are superior to their peers, constantly showered by praise from her doting and competitive parents who wanted their child to achieve great things, family life revolving around Mackenzie’s life and what was important to her.
With such an upbringing, it was little wonder that Mackenzie had grown to be so stuck-up and entitled, regarding the rest of us at the triathlon club as peasants, herself as a princess. Her manner was cold and aloof most of the time, and her response to things not going her way such as not winning an event would be met more with passive aggression and sulking rather than a ‘dummy-spit’ tantrum or an overt display of anger.
The triathlon club would often have us engage in fundraising activities such as car washes and sausage sizzles to raise money for club events and travel, and it was expected that we all do our bit. That we did and so did Mackenzie, but one could tell that she was more than happy with her wealthy parents financing her and her sulky but silent attitude clearly spoke ‘Why should I be here?’ and ‘Why is it any concern of mine that other kids need to fundraise to compete in events’. The only reason that she was there was that even she and her doting parents could see her absence would look bad, but would it have been worse if she had not been there? Probably it would have been better for us who had to work with the sulky brat.
In our mid-teens, I got to learn more about Mackenzie’s background and why she was the way she was by overhearing a conversation between her mother and some of the other mums of teenagers at the triathlon program. We were clearing up after a club social function, and I was behind some curtains cleaning the windows when Mrs. Gold began discussing her daughter.
This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, Mrs. Gold’s favorite conversation topic was always Mackenzie. I had obviously never been to the Gold house as Mackenzie and I were not friends, but I often imagined them having life-sized pictures and portraits of Mackenzie in every room. However, this time I heard Mrs. Gold say how it had taken eight attempts at IVF costing many thousands of dollars for each cycle before she conceived Mackenzie.
I had always known Mackenzie was an only child, but from hearing more of the conversation I was surprised to find out that she had no cousins either. It seemed that Mrs. Gold’s sister had the same fertility problems but she and her husband’s longing for a child ultimately went unfulfilled. And Mr. Gold had a younger brother, but he was a homosexual who lived in Sydney with his boyfriend, so obviously no kids there either.
So Mackenzie was an only child with no cousins, so therefore a much rarer only grandchild too. Given Mackenzie’s very existence had cost many thousands of dollars to bring about in the first place, and that she had been born into a wealthy and ambitious family and had the talent to fulfill their sporting achievement goals, little wonder she was a stuck-up, spoiled and self-absorbed child who had grown into a stuck-up, spoiled and self-absorbed teenager during her adolescent years.
Hayley and I each had a sibling — Hayley a younger brother and me a younger sister – who were talented at sports too, and with more humble backgrounds resources and praise had to be spread around between siblings. With Mackenzie, the spotlight was always on her. When I thought of the word ‘narcissist’, the image of Mackenzie always appeared in my mind’s eye.
After overhearing her mother’s conversation with her friends I thought somewhat unkindly that it might have been better that one of the other test tube embryos had taken then we might have ended up with a much nicer person than Mackenzie. However, despite my distaste for Mackenzie I didn’t think it was right for me to go around talking about the fertility problems in her family especially given the conversation wasn’t for my ears, so I kept quiet about this.
Mackenzie’s prowess at triathlon grew and grew through late adolescence as did her ego, and by early 2005 Hayley, Mackenzie and I were all aged 18 turning 19 later in the year, out of high school and juggling study, work and sporting commitments. Although in Mackenzie’s case, her Daddy had found her a job at his company that seemed to pay her plenty of money for limited work, enabling her to concentrate on her intense training schedule.
Hayley and I were very happy together, and Mackenzie had a boyfriend now, a young rugby league rize escort player. I think an important cornerstone of that relationship was that Mackenzie told him want to do, and he did it without question. I don’t think Mackenzie could have coped with anything different to the way she had been raised.
Mackenzie had always been arrogant since childhood, and now an adult she hadn’t changed, and in fact was worse. One night at training on a gloomy day Hayley pulled her car into its space just after Mackenzie had arrived, Hayley noticing that Mackenzie had left the lights on her own car on. Hayley advised her of this so she didn’t wind up with a flat battery, but rather than thank Hayley Mackenzie simply turned off her headlights and left without a word, appearing peeved that somebody far inferior to her had dared to address her rather than grateful.
A week after that, I was driving with Hayley beside me in the passenger seat, and I allowed Mackenzie into the busy traffic after a Gold Coast event. Again, no wave to say thank you, nothing, just a somewhat irritated expression that she had been addressed by a much lower person to her.
Bad manners while driving were one thing, and not a surprise given that two years earlier Hayley and I were carrying some equipment inside after training one evening. Mackenzie was in front of us but despite the fact that we were struggling, did not offer to help. Then she opened the doors to go inside, but rather than hold them open for us let them close in our faces.
But what Mackenzie did around Easter was far less forgivable. She had recently won a prestigious triathlon down in Melbourne, and some boys who were in the junior squad were quite enamored by the rising young star athlete and made her a card to congratulate her at a club event just before Easter.
Mackenzie took the card from them without a smile or a word of thanks, and with the kids watching chucked it into a rubbish bin, before going on her way, flipping open her phone and checking her messages as she went, either not noticing or not caring about the looks of dismay on the boys’ faces. What a stuck-up little cow, a truly awful girl, spoiled rotten right to the core.
In early April Brisbane was enjoying some fine autumn weather, and on the weekend Hayley’s parents were away down on the Gold Coast. With her younger brother at a sports camp in Adelaide, Hayley and I had the place to ourselves on Saturday night and most of Sunday.
I always got along really well with Hayley’s parents, but while they were no doubt aware that our relationship was consummated I don’t think they were 100 percent happy with it. However, this weekend they could rest easy. While I was staying over and Hayley and I were sharing the same bed and sleeping together, we were sleeping together literally as in lying next to each other in bed and sleeping.
Unfortunately, somebody had forgotten to tell Hayley’s ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, birth canal, cervix and vagina about us having the place to ourselves on the weekend, and she had gotten her period on the Friday night. Hayley had always had plenty of period problems — bloating, menstrual cramps and a heavy flow — so no fun for us this weekend. Sometimes she would give me a blow job when she was menstruating, but this was only when she was feeling better in the later part of her period. This Saturday was day two of her cycle so she felt like crap.
I did my best to make my girlfriend feel better, renting a girly rom-com DVD she would like, giving her a massage, buying her some chocolate and sitting with her and reassuring her when she got hormonal and burst into tears literally after spilling some milk.
Hayley and I went to bed together, but when I awoke around five I was alone. The mystery of Hayley’s whereabouts was soon solved. She was lying on the couch in the living room barefoot and dressed in the over-sized tee-shirt and panties she had worn to bed overnight. She had a hot water bottle on her stomach and was writhing on the couch, grimacing and clearly having problems with menstrual cramps. On the coffee table was a glass of water and a packet of painkillers specifically for period pain.
I sat down beside her and took hold of her hand. “Hey Hayley, how are you?”
Hayley swept her long blonde hair from her forehead and looked at me with a pained expression, her bare toes clenching as she got another cramp in her abdomen. “Hey Jamie, as you can see not the best. I feel like my uterus is getting ripped out of my stomach through my naval.”
“You don’t look so great,” I said. “Why are you out here? It would have been more comfortable for you in bed.”
“I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to wake you,” said Hayley. She gave me a thin smile. “And there was another good reason. My girls’ problems were turning me into Hurricane Hayley, if you catch my meaning.”
I laughed. “Ew — too much information, Hayley.”
Hayley laughed. “Now you can see why I got out of bed and ankara rus escort came out here. It was like I’ve eaten nothing but cabbages for the past week. If I’d stayed in bed, you might have suffocated in your sleep, and it would have been a bit hard for me to explain it to the police, your parents and then at the coroner’s inquest.”
I smiled. “I do appreciate you coming out here then, Hayley.”
Hayley repositioned herself on the couch, her knees coming apart in the process allowing me to see under her oversized tee-shirt and the white panties she was wearing. The shape of Hayley’s period pad was prominent between her legs, and I could see the pad’s wings that helped keep it attached to her knickers.
“So are you going out for your run this morning Jamie?” Hayley asked.
I wanted to go out running, and obviously I needed to go running as part of my training but Hayley didn’t look up to running, and I felt bad about leaving her behind when she loved to go running too.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure about you,” I said. “You don’t feel up to it?”
Hayley shook her head. “No, my period cramps are really bad this morning. Plus even if I did manage to get out there, you do not want to be running behind me.”
She laughed as did I. “Are you sure you don’t mind me going out alone? I know how much you love running, and I feel bad about leaving you here.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’m happy here with my trusty hot water bottle,” Hayley said. “Go out, enjoy yourself, it’s a beautiful morning. During the week when I’m feeling better we’ll have a run together and make up for it.”
“As long as you’re sure,” I said.
“I am,” Hayley assured me. “You’re burning daylight standing here. Now get out there, run, train, keep fit, or I’ll yell at you!”
“Yes ma’am,” I laughed, giving Hayley a salute to which she also laughed. I kissed Hayley goodbye, and went and dressed in a tank top, running shorts and running shoes.
“See you back soon,” I called out to Hayley as I left the house and set out on my run.
It truly was a magnificent day across Brisbane, flawless blue skies across South Queensland. The part of Brisbane Hayley and her family lived in was the Redlands Bay area not far from the coast, and one of the best things about the area was the running tracks through the bush close to the ocean, the up and down nature of the tracks giving one not only a good workout, but scenic views of the vegetation and the sparkling blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.
I ran at a fast pace, and soon was enjoying running along the tracks of Redlands Bay admiring the scenery. I felt bad about Hayley not being with me as I loved running with her, but she was okay with it and she not only had girls’ problems to contend with, but from what she was saying problems with her bowels too. It was probably best that she was at home resting.
Continuing my run I was sweating, but was used to this with so much exercise and living in the sub tropics of Queensland. I always kept well hydrated, but as I ran along the uncomfortable feelings in my bladder which I initially ignored turned to feelings of urgency, and I had to either pee or piss my pants.
Peeing in this area was easier said than done, there were no public toilets around and I wasn’t sure where the next block would be. There was however plenty of vegetation, so ducked off the track and into the vegetation, keeping a close watch for snakes.
Standing behind a tree, I pulled down the front of my shorts and my underpants, freeing my cock. As I peed against the tree trunk, I felt the relief flowing through my bladder and into the rest of my body too. I also felt relief that I was a guy and not a girl.
A few weeks ago Hayley and I had been out running in the main city very early in the morning. We had been through the Botanic Gardens and into Southbank, and had crossed the river again at the Western end of the CBD when Hayley had an emergency in the Roma Street parklands and we found that the nearest toilets were closed. This meant that Hayley had to dash into a garden bed before she peed her panties, while I stood watch for her.
With Hayley being a girl, she obviously had to pull her shorts and her panties all the way down to piss, more difficult for a girl in this position than a guy. When Hayley came out of the bushes she was adjusting her knickers through her shorts I happened to be adjusting my own shorts.
Unfortunately three old ladies came round the corner at that moment clearly on their way to church in nearby Spring Hill, and stopped short. Each of them looked at us in horror, with expressions of pious indignation upon their faces. It was clear what they thought we had been up to in the bushes, and went on their way talking about ‘proper upbringing’, ‘young people nowadays’ and ‘public decency.’
Finishing my pee, I shook my penis and slipped it back into my undies, then adjusted my shorts. I was about to walk down back to the path to resume running, when I stopped as I observed a young woman walking along the path.
That a young woman was walking along the path was not unusual. The Redlands Bay running tracks were full of people, and on a fine and sunny Sunday morning lots of walkers, joggers and runners were out and about.