On seafood
Valentine’s Day 2006

I treated the now ex Smurfette to a very special, homemade, candle lit dinner.

The entrée was Oysters. I'd travelled all the way to West Mersea that lunchtime to pick them up, carried them home in their little polystyrene box and immediately put them on ice. I'd had Oysters several times in my life, but knowing Smurfette had never had them, I thought it would be quite special. Whilst I'd never experienced the aphrodisiac effect, I thought she might.

The following courses were equally spectacular, but I won’t go in to them as they have no relevance to the story (but I am a damn good cook, even if I do say so myself).

The night was a hit. I taught Smurfette how to shuck* an oyster and we downed 4 each before the starter was ready. The remaining 4 went back on ice in the fridge.

Skip 2 hours....

Dessert finished (homemade coconut ice cream), the candles beginning to gutter, we headed towards the bedroom.

Feeling a bit kinky, she suggested I eat one of the remaining Oysters out of her naval. Obviously I would rather have had more ice-cream from mentioned orifice, but we'd gobbled the lot and maybe the fabled aphrodisiac was working on her. So I agreed. And then I did another. And then she did two from mine (despite much squirming as I'm always worried it will come unscrewed and things will fall out).

And then other stuff happened, but I'm nowhere near as good as writing sex stories as some on here, so I won’t even try.

But the next morning. Woh is us.

We both wake up feeling a bit iffy. Smurfette heads to the toilet and I hear the retching. I drag myself out of the bed and offer to 'hold her hair' (being a modern man and all that). "Noooooooooooo" is the response I get. Then I hear, what I think is a desperately needed pee. How mistaken I am. "Ooooo I'm not well" says Smurfette heading past me on the way back to bed.

Once again, being modern man (or possibly my mother) I offer to go downstairs and grab the mop bucket for her if she's not well. I'll even include the savlon mixed with water in the bottom of it (ok, so I have Edwardian floorboards in my bedroom and had visions of vomit getting between the gaps and never being able to get it out).

Then it was my turn.

I have never, ever, pissed from my arse before. I think only those who have truly had food poising before can sympathise with this.

I'm not talking your upset tummy, might spray a bit with farting, still slightly lumpy, diarrhoea (hey, I spelt it right first time!). I'm talking pure liquid faeces (didn't spell that right first time!) that comes at regular intervals with the force of a tsunami.

On the way back to bed, I aimed downstairs to grab the mop bucket, if not for her, for me.

At this point I'm still sans clothing, as I like to sleep that way.

I get back to the bedroom with the bucket. As I step through the bedroom door I feel the stirrings in the lower chest.

"Hwwwwuuuuuuchhhhhhh" I say, projecting a stream of vomit in to the bucket.

"I'm hwwwwuuuuuuuchhhhh sorry" I say as I stand naked in the doorway, another jet of vomit landing in the bucket.

"Where hwwwwwuuuuuuch did those underpants come from, I don't remember eating those hwwwwwuuuuuuuuuch"? I say trying to add humour to the situation.

"I hwwwwuuuuuuuch love you" as another jet erupts from my throat.

And then I start to laugh as I realise just how unattractive I must look. Standing in the door way, naked, holding a mop bucket under my chin, whilst trying to converse and apologise between retches.

And then Smurfette starts to laugh. And promptly shits the bed.


*kinda like the noise you make when eating them.
(Big Smurf Brush me daddy-O, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 20:34, 10 replies)

Excellent
Beautifully written, don't put your literary skills down.
(Pope Jamiroquai III, Mon 10 Aug 2009, 22:01, closed)

"And then Smurfette starts to laugh. And promptly shits the bed."
HAHAHAHAHA perfect finishing line

I've had the liquid shits before, it's not fun. Especially when every time you think they're over you go and sit/lie down again, and more filters into your bowels and off you trot back to the bog
( weaver., Mon 10 Aug 2009, 23:45, closed)

^This^
Worryingly, all of this post actually applies to me too.
( TheMagicDwarf is back like ballroom dancing, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 4:54, closed)

Same here...
The greatest feeling in the world is being able to fart again after a case of the shits!!
(AQ, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 13:06, closed)

Oh Yes
Yes I agree but what about the tentative test farts you have to make before deciding if you need to run to the bathroom or not.
(paulwoody, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 15:18, closed)

I clicked
But I couldn't read past "I taught Smurfette how to shuck* an oyster and we downed 4 each..." thanks to an earlier post :(

Edit: I finally plucked up the courage and read the rest of the story. This diserves front page (at the very least) as I've literally cried laughing! Thanks :)
(suicidalducky has too much time on his hands, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 4:48, closed)

had a horrible morning after like that
when the missus and I had some apparently iffy bacon sarnies one evening. no sex involved in the bacon sarnies, that would be a bit too weird, but i hit a new low as i was puking in the toilet while simultaneously pebbledashing the floor behind me. this caused the wife to laigh so hard she projectile vomitted. very odd day...
(Alphabet Soap boshboshboshbosh, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 11:59, closed)

Funny you mention liquid shits
as I've been (pebble) dashing away from my desk a lot today and pissing gravy out of my arse. My ring is stinging like a bugger and I am sitting uncomfortably, and very very nervously...
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Tue 11 Aug 2009, 14:01, closed)

Brilliant...
...and beautifully written.

Thank you kindly

*click*
(Rotimer was micturating windward at, Tue 11 Aug 2009, 15:37, closed)