Anal Sex Fail: That Time I Pooped on His Knee

July 12, 2012May 11, 2025 notsosexinthecity Anal

I woke up today, said “Good morning” to Guy, who was lying beside me, then got up to put the kettle on. It was just a regular day that started like any other… until I walked back upstairs, two teas in hand, and saw something. It would appear, folks, that we’d had a little bit of an anal sex fail.

Allow me to explain.

An Anal Sex Fail

Guy was on the bed, spreadeagled, the duvet barely covering his junk and nothing else. My eyes were drawn to a dark spot on his knee. It looked like a really, really large mole, and I was pretty sure that I’d have noticed it before if it had always been there.

I placed his cup of tea on his bedside cabinet, then slowly walked around to mine, trying to get a closer look at the “mole,” without making it obvious. I think I knew what it was already but tried to push it from my mind. No, it can’t be that. It has to be something else.

You see, the night before, we’d had anal sex. Grunts, groans, explosion, yadda, yadda, yadda, time to get cleaned up. Except it wasn’t just his spunk that I needed to clear up. There was something else.

*whispers*

There was a poo.

Now, since mine was the only well-lubricated and fucked butt last night, there’s no way it’s his poo. It’s gotta be my poo. It must’ve been fucked out of me, found it’s way to the bedsheets, then his knee.

I sat on the bed with my tea, taking a sip and (discreetly) looking around for any other offensive lumps. There were none, thankfully, but there were definitely smears on my white bedsheets… and on his leg, too.

Fuck

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

I did the only thing I knew to do: I kicked him out of my bed, sprang into bed linen-washing action, shouted something nonsensical about germs, and pretended not to notice that the guy I was sleeping with, was staring at me like I was a crazed lunatic.

Because, no, of course I couldn’t have just said, “Yo, a poo came out. Let’s clear that up.”

Of course, throwing him (literally) off the bed and gathering up the bed linen only solved half of the poo problem – bed poo. We still had knee poo to deal with. Well, I did. He was still sipping his tea, sat on my dressing room stool, totally oblivious to the fact that my actual shit was on and smeared around his knee.

I was running out of time to sort out my anal sex fail. He’d get in the shower once he’d finished the drink, and then he’d definitely notice the lump. I had to get the lump off him, at the very least. We could blame the smears on chocolate, or something.

Well, as I wracked my mind to find a solution, Guy spotted it.

Then frowned at it.

Then, he started PICKING IT OFF.

He didn’t say a word. I didn’t say a word. Did he know? Was he playing it cool? Did he think it was chocolate?

DOES HE KNOW THAT HE’S PICKING OFF MY SHIT?!

He stood up, put the pieces of my picked off shit into the bin, then kissed me on the forehead before heading for a shower.

Totally normal.

Totally like there wasn’t just a lump of my shit on his leg.

He knows, doesn’t he? He can’t be that oblivious, surely?

Help.

I fucking pooped on his knee.

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