Dealing With My Aging Self

Dealing With My Aging Self (Between My Legs)

By. Cynthia Blaine

This story involves bodily functions, especially intimate discussions in some detail of urination and menstruation, so if that is something you don't want to deal with, please read no further. All characters are well over 18.

When my period began to become erratic--yes, I know that it's referred to as "irregular"--I had to accept the obvious fact that I wasn't as youthful as I had considered myself to be. I was in what is called perimenopause, which is when your periods become scanty and finally end entirely, meaning that you are in full menopause.

I had changed from using tampons for my period to the new period panties. I had gotten used to having no pad or tampon down there to make sure I didn't bleed into my panties. Soon, I realized, I wouldn't even need these period panties. I had started with the ones that promised to absorb most of my flow. They all have black panels that promise to absorb your menses through layers and even diminish any trace of the characteristic menstrual odor.

I liked the ones where the special layers ran all the way from my belly button in front to my waistband in the rear--waistband to waistband, actually. If this sounds like I've been overly concerned with not having menstrual accidents, it shouldn't give that impression: I've had some over the years and in places where it wasn't possible to change my clothing below the waist very easily. Periods are still taboo for most people, but we're gradually loosening up--other women, in particular, are more likely to give you a tampon if you find yourself bleeding and didn't have one in your handbag.

Anyway, I soon learned that the period panties, especially the ones that said they could absorb the equivalent of multiple, ten or twelve, tampons, were also good to wear if you began experiencing urinary leaks. This is, of course, another benefit of aging, where all those kegels you didn't do come back to ratchet up your insecurity. You gradually don't have to fear having period accidents, but you also have a much greater possibility of peeing your pants.

There are several types of incontinence, which is the word the medics and the panty ads use to describe this situation. The one I was starting to have is called urge incontinence. I suddenly feel that I need to pee, and that I must get to a toilet pronto. I am able to hold my pee in, sometimes for quite a while, but sudden movements, or even not-so-sudden ones, can release jets of urine into my panties. One time when this happens is when I'm heading for the bathroom, am pulling down my panties before sitting on the toilet, and I get ahead of myself somehow and my pee streams out before I either get my panties out of the way or sit down on the toilet seat.

This leads to my staining my panties, which isn't just an embarrassment--"At your age, you're still staining your panties!"--but also results in my having to change my undies and to bring an extra pair or two with me in my handbag. I'm both bi and mostly dominant, so I will admit to having inspected other women's panties for pee stains (as well as others) as part of scenes.

Now, when I get together with friends and we act out disciplinary scenes, what was my slight submissive tendency has grown apace. I fantasize about having to submit to a panty inspection by a young, attractive, severe woman who has made it clear to me that any stains she finds during her inspection of my panties will result in my being spanked, caned, or whipped.

Even more awful (and exciting) is the possibility that she may order me into diapers. This punishment becomes more wrenching because usually her sentence is indefinite--I won't know for how long I must wear a humiliating diaper that makes my loins look hue with the puffed-up diaper and diaper cover under my skirt, or worse, my slacks.

My friends, who though female, are neither young nor even especially severe (I won't comment on the attractiveness of any of us at this life stage--at best, Ilike to think of myself as une femme d'un certain age. However, some of them do enjoy the opportunity to check out my panties as payback for all the embarrassments, humiliations, and pain--from spankings, canings, and whippings--that I have visited upon them in the past.

I did post the usual warning at the start of this piece, but I'll state here that I'm going to be dealing with what comes out of my rear hole, so while you may be willing to deal with piss, your tolerance may stop when the shit emerges. This part gets graphic about a bodily function that many people would prefer not to read about, especially not in the detail which will follow.

I had regular bowel movements for years. I was quite proud of them although it's not something you can discuss with even close family members or friends--at least most of the time. I defecated almost every day and my movements were unexceptional: solid, brown logs of several inches that slid readily out of my anus without pushing or straining. Except for those times most of us have known when hit by a diarrhea spell, I was pretty normal in my excretory habits.

Now I'm not. I definitely rarely go every day. Usually, it's two days. If I try to go before it's moved down far enough into my rectum, I strain to little effect, so I avoid doing that. Instead, I wait until I feel significant pressure indicating that I truly need to get on the toilet and make my doody, still using that delightfully childish term which I prefer to the now-commonly used "poop."

I still will have to push. I know you shouldn't push because it's not good for you. On the other hand, that's what it takes to get the movement moving. Often, the first part of my movement is wide and bumpy, which makes it all the harder to excrete. I don't like to admit this, but a few times when it just wouldn't come out, I used my finger to get some of it out, because the bumpiness was making it difficult for the movement to emerge.

Another new task I usually need to undertake is to break up a movement in the toilet bowl with my fingers into smaller pieces, so they become flushable. My worst fear is that large movements may block the toilet and require my steady pumping of the plunger. I keep the hot water running lightly in the sink so I can get the doody off my fingers as soon as I've finished breaking it apart in the bowl.

The best result I can hope for is to generate a solid movement that slides out without effort. To ensure that this occurs, I try to limit my consumption of cheese, which reputedly causes constipation, and I take stool softener pills, which do stimulate my bowels. Wow, am I a mess! No, I'm just aging in place.

I'm only able to write about this at all because I've long had an anal fetish. This, by the way, does not include anal intercourse, even if it is proven to improve my defecation. I do engage in inserting my finger anally and enjoy the feeling when I touch the end of an incipient movement in there. My own experience, and only that, makes me convinced that even this slight fingering makes having a movement sooner rather than later. That those sexual sensation nerve endings inside the anal ring are stimulated by my fingering is an added dividend and can give me an orgasm.

I did find one account of defecation to be stimulating. Some years ago, I read Heinrich Boll's novel, Group Portrait With Lady, which tells the story of what a woman goes through trying to lead any kind of normal life during the war in Germany. At one point, she goes into a convent--largely because as a Jewish woman, she needs to get out of sight--and is befriended by an older nun, Sister Rahel, who takes an interest in her, and especially in her bowel movements.

Sister Rahel provides various herbal remedies to deal with problems such as constipation but is fascinated and even obsessed by controlling or facilitating smooth ("clean") bowel movements that slide of the anal opening without leaving any traces of feces around the anus.

Under her tutelage, Leni eventually manages to perform to Rahel's standard on the toilet. I found this example of anal obsession fascinating. Another aspect of this story that drew my attention was when Leni learns that Rahel, who is regarded as a member of the order but also relegated to what is a back room where she supervises the toilets, has been shielded by the order but also put down in the manner described, apparently because she is also a Jew.

I do get off on stories about romantic relationships, often involving women who are bi, that feature one of two women sitting on a toilet seat above the other in a tub. The one underneath the seat stares up at her friend's or lover's crotch not knowing which of her three holes will release pee, doody, or menses on her face. I've even written a few accounts of these situations.

Being placed in this subservient position may be seen as a punishment, but for many, it is exactly what they are seeking. Despite its occurring in the stories, ingression of feces is still unusual, if only because it clearly can cause illness or worse. I do know couples with an intimate knowledge of their partner's health and diet who conclude that ingestion is safe enough for them, but even then, I remain a skeptic.

I have been generally successful in avoiding any fecal staining of my panties as I age. This may be due to the gusset of my underwear not going into my anal crack far enough to pick up any matter lodged around my anal opening. But what has been happening is that even after I wipe thoroughly, I may find that if I wipe when making my morning pee, the toilet paper emerges from wiping my anal area with major stains.

My surmise is that some doody was not excreted when I last moved my bowels the day before. This residue may leak out while I'm asleep and remains adjacent to my anus, so it does not stain my panties. I'm always surprised when I apply toilet paper, and it picks up this residue from the area right around my anal opening.

If you share my sick sense of humor, you'll enjoy another surprise when I have pushed or strained too much to excrete a balky movement. Then when I wipe, there may be blood on the toilet paper. This has happened throughout my life whenever I have to strain too much to excrete my movement.

I find it amusing that after I pull up my panties, slight traces of blood may seep out of my anal opening--this has led to my getting another benefit out of the period panties even as my period is gradually disappearing. After all, blood is exactly what the period panties are specifically designed to capture and draw away from my body through the layers! So, I wear the new period panties to absorb both any pee I may release as I rush to the toilet and any bleeding that results from my straining to defecate. I also insert a suppository to avoid further bleeding, including the next time I make a doody.

Period panties are usually much more stylish than the oft-shamed "granny panties." I much prefer the period panties because they offer protection from escaping urine. Some of them are quite attractive and also briefer than full briefs. There's nothing like wearing stylish period panties when you don't have a period anymore!