A personal holiday story


My mother always visits for Thanksgiving. Her birthday is on the 21st so it’s been a sort of birthday present for the last 25 years. Also, as many of you know I quit drinking a year and half ago. I noticed this last weekend that my clothes were looser and figured I might be losing more weight due to not drinking. With this, I noticed my new underwear fit me kind of loose. Strange but okay.

Last night I put on a pair and they were incredibly loose. I started to get scared that I was losing weight too fast. Maybe I was sick? Turns out I accidentally put on my Mom’s undies that got mixed up in the wash. Thanks for letting me share. I don’t know who else to tell.


This draws us in. There’s enough here for us to settle in, get comfortable, and wonder what’s next. This story might be like finding $50 in your jeans.

And then we recoil. It’s a bit like the Thomas Cole painting, “Voyage of Life” except you feel nauseated at the end instead of reaching out to an Angel.


You get it, Ely.



Disgustingly refreshing share!!!

Thanks inky dinky doo!


Hysterical! :blush:
Glad you’re ok!


Once, when I was 10, I was celebrating Christmas in Miami at my grandparent’s house after returning to the US from living in South America. I no longer believed in Santa, so it was just opening presents with family, no grand magic other than the innate selfishness of ‘gimme gimme’ that kids at that age have around Christmas.
The tree was situated under the covered part of an open area that sat between the bedroom and the living/dining wings of the meandering house plan. There was also a kidney-shaped swimming pool with a diving board in there, and two stories of much-needed mosquito screening. Beyond that was 10 acres of studiously unkempt avocado trees.
Shirtless in the south Florida muggy morning air, wearing only pajama bottoms, I sat with my brothers, waiting to be told we could begin the attack on Christmas. And at the ‘go’ signal, me and my siblings jumped at the tree, tearing into our gifts like famished dogs with their own bowl of kibble. There were GI Joes, hot wheels, you know, kid shit. All mine. Mine. And like a famished dog mid-meal, I decided to chance a fart rather than interrupt my once-a-year monomania.
And I sharted, right in my PJs. Face frozen in a silent Munch scream. Reverie ruined. Underwear ruined. I trotted off to the bathroom to get my shit in order and returned to where I had left off. Jammies were OK. Pretty sure no one noticed or cared.
I don’t remember what I got that year, other than a mixed message from Buddha and Christ about avarice.


If Willie Cash were here he’d say Worst Penthouse Forum letter I’ve ever read


You do realize that this is fap material for Balv, right?


Then I have done my job well.


you all realize i don’t need material?

i can fap at will and random. but i do love me some shit stained pj stories!!! really gets the juices flowing.


and by juices, i mean pre-cum


I knew you could out gross me.


That was not my goal, but I also wasn’t even trying.