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Adult Confessions | Gross |
Little explanation is needed here ... these are confessions that are just plain gross. Maybe a poop accident, or a pee story. A puking your guts out after binge drinking confession ... you get the idea. No holds barred.

If you or someone else got totally grossed out, wants to hear about it!
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I was at school taking a science test in 8th grade. I went up to sharpen my penicl at the pencil sharpener that was right next to the teacher sitting at her desk. She looked at me very odd and just starred at me. I didnt know what she was starring at. Then i saw that my fly was open. And that day i decided not to wear underware and my penis was haing out. Then everyone in the class looked at me. They all started laughing and then i got an erection. THey started laughing even harder and i couldn't move. THen i just started peeing all over my teacher because i was so scared and just couldnt stop.

    #4123 — Comments (1) — Aug 16, 2001 at 12:40 PM — That's Juicy! (0) Remove It.
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    One day at school I was going to get a vaccine shot and Iam very scare of vaccine shots but I was in the school and I was not going to cry.After I got my shot I immediately asked the teaher to go to the bathroom but she told me to wait and ten I peed in front of the class everybody laugh of course then the teacher said It's OK it happened maybe because she was nervous. That was the worst day of my life.

    #4103 — Comments (0) — Jul 27, 2001 at 1:34 PM — That's Juicy! (1) Remove It.
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I wet my Pants. I had numerous accidents growing up.Once on a Car trip,I pooped my pants.It was so embarrassing.

    #4096 — Comments (1) — Jul 18, 2001 at 5:46 PM — That's Juicy! (0) Remove It.
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I was 17, and my girlfriend was 18. One very cold Saturday afternoon in January, we wentice skating at a local pond. This was in the early 70's, and, as was the style at the time, I was wearing skin-tight, faded tan courdury pants, and she was in tight jeans, and blond hair, and oh-so pretty, with a very nice smile and figure.

    I was already over six feet tall, and slim. We were skating, sometimes with friends, other times alone, holding hands, laughing, drinking hot chocolate and feeling the unique, priceless thrill of teenagers falling in love.

    The sun was shining, and we were happy to be together. We had gone out together a few months, and had held hands and kissed a lot, but nothing further, almost as if we had the wisdom to draw out this coming-of-age experince we would never have again.

    At about 2:00 or so, she said she wanted to leave, to walk to her mom's house, as she was getting cold and wanted us to get home before her mom and make popcorn and warm up. I said fine, and that I had to use the bathroom. There was a line for it. She asked me to wait until we got to her house. I had to go, but was mostly inclined to please her, as I liked her beyond my young comprehension, and thought of little else.

    We walked and talked and laughed. I felt a growing surge of need, and thought of detouring a block to a gas station, but did not. I tried not to show my need to her. Once she stopped a minute to feed some birds some breadcrumbs she had. While her back was turned, I was straining and pranced a little, shifting my feet and wanting to cup myself but afraid she would see that. I even tried my zipper and snap on my pants. They were frozen tight, as were my gloveless hands. We walked was over a mile, and getting colder, though the sun shone on brightly.

    We finally got to her house. Several younger kids, age ten or so, were playing in the front yard. She stopped to exchange greetings with them, and I was afraid she would join in their games, but, oh, thank you Lord, she did not!

    We walked, she with grace, me with great effort, inside the glass-enclosed front porch, and she took out her key and tried it. It worked hard in the cold and she was not getting us inside. Her back was to me, and I felt another strong surge, and really wondered if I would have to leave, if I could wait.

    The kids whispered and giggled, looking at me. They had been looking at us anyway, curious about our attraction to each other.

    I told her I would try around back. I tried the back door, walking even funnier and nearing the point of pain under my belt. I involuntarily held myself, cupping with a frantic red hand over the courduroys, prancing, stopping once to clamp my knees together hard. I swore that if I could stave it off, I would leave.

    I strained my inner muscles as hard as I could, thinking of anything else...her hair, her kisses...everything I wanted to wait for, in more ways than one. But I remember thinking of earlier that morning for some reason, taking a fresh pair of white underpants briefs from the wrapper, and how good they had felt going on, with new, white, soft cotton. I envisioned them, and wondered if they would possibly help me here. For good luck...or better luck, anyway.

    A couple of the kids who had followed me. They watched in such rapt attention at the big boy with crossed legs that they were momentarily silent. Then, there was a little backing off, a reprieve, but I knew I had to get inside soon, or leave.

    I was about to leave...just walk away, to that gas station. But then, I heard the sweetest voice in the world calling to me, saying she thought she could get us in. She said to trust her, that it will be OK. I went to the porch to her side.

    This moment, she said later, was amongst the sweetest of her life, that I would put faith, blind faith, in her. That I would trust her that it would be OK, that however the details turned out, she would make it OK. She was still struggling with the lock. I asked her to let me try it. I did, to no avail. She tried again.

    She was apologetic, cold, straining, as I was, in a sense, in a shared desperation. Oh, and she was beautiful, so very stunningly beautiful. On the outside, that was obvious. Everything seemed to be on the outside right now. Oh, how I wanted to see the inside. Of the house, is what I was focused so acutely on then. But I was soon to see the inside of her. The inner beauty of a beauty.

    The key snapped off. She sighed, and turned to me, a couple feet away, with a sympathetic smile at pretty...looking in my eyes, and said, "Oh, goodness, now what else can happen today?

    And that is when I wet my pants.

    Her kind eyes were looking into my eyes. I think she saw my eyes lose focus a little, go into a shock of their own, and lose real contact with her, despite my continuing to notice how sweetly her blond locks spilled upon her sweatered shoulder. I looked at her, but then, was staring at nothing in particular. Nothing in focus completely. I felt numb, grey. Reality slipped away, and I seemed like a person, outside the door to the porch, with the curious children, looking in at myself with my girlfriend.

    I distantly felt a minor explosion, then spreading warmth, actually... hotness, on that freezing porch, spreading across my front. I watched her eyes flicker with a resigned, yet startled, guilty realization as she looked at me. Those sweet blue eyes of hers dropped, that involuntary action in synch with mine, to my front.

    This was not happening at all. I am dreaming this. The disbelief was literal and real. I had to wake up. Then I put together that her focus dropping to my front, and my helpless release of over-tired muscles that had been holding back half the day, together meant the unthinkable...truly unthinkable until several minutes ago, that my beautiful girlfriend was now watching me wet my pants. No, that could NOT happen to me! I am a big boy. This is a nightmare, Oh, please God.

    My eyes followed hers there. We watched, frozen, in some kind of morbid facsination, as the baseball-sized, dark circle of wetness spread out and out, almost symetrically, so fast, and yet frozen in time, a burning, spreading invasion of my new underpants and courduroys. And I could not stop it if my life depended on it.

    I wondered how much there would be, if she were still watching as intently as I was, (she was) and if the kids were (they were) and if she would tell her girlfriend about this (she did, but only that one person) and if she would still want to go out with me (she did).

    The dark wet spot grew to basketball sized, and at that point I finally could let shock turn to panic. I high-stepped my knees, prancing, as I cupped myself, sending several seperate shooting yellow rivers out between my fingers, cascading to the floor, splattering in deafening waterfalls amidst the otherwise quiet.

    I saw her looking at me with that sad, sympathetic, it's-ok way of hers, but she was moving around in my vision due to my frenzied jerks of motion in my futile effort to stem the flow.

    It lasted approximately forever. I finally clamped my knees hard together, my right hand buried between my legs, as we watched the sheeting tide of darkness streak down my thighs and legs, and splashing to the floor from the Vee between my knees. I was in the classic, young child, accident-stance, with legs together,hand cupped, feet apart, a yellow waterfalls merrily tinkling to the remarkably wide puddle beneath my feet.

    Then an eternity of silence ensued. I continued to study the grey floor, note all of the grey flecks of paint I see to this day, under the pool I made. Silent tears started, and I thought of all the big pool having been inside me a moment ago, and in the back yard, when I could have still left, and not be standing here in front of her, humiliated.

    And then, in the reflection provided by that pool under me, I saw her. I saw her smile, in that slightly-steaming, reflecting pool. I saw her move toward me, after kindly and wisely giving me a moment for realization to sink in. She put her hand to my red, wet cheek. And, finally, she spoke.

    With sweet velvet soft words. She said it is ok. Accidents happen to anyone. You are not the first boy to wet his pants. You will not be the last. It could have happened to me. And to the children, she asked them to please give us privacy, and that they too could have an accident. She looked at me with a smile and just said, Now lets get inside.

    She got us there, and how I don't know. I wondered if part of her knew. And wanted it to happen. She led me by the hand to the laundry room. My pants, and steps, were heavy. I was crying softly. I stood in front of her. She looked me up and down. The smell...I smelled like a diaper. She told me I smelled like a little baby she had changed, and that she liked it.

    She made a little joke or two. She laughed softly that she might be the only girl in school who gets to see her boyfriend wet his pants. She said she was glad I did not go off alone, or in the back yard, as she was happy to be there with me to take care of me, and that the thought of my being alone, in tears and wet pants, broke her heart.

    Again, she looked me up and down. I looked down at myself. Of the entire front of my pants, only two corners, up near the pockets, were not soaked dark. She started to undress me, and then peeled off my soaked pants, leaving only my soaked, formerly brand new, underwear. I was babbling, so embarrassed. She was on her knees, asking me with an arched eyebrow, if she could remove my underpants.

    I wanted to delay what I thought was even more embarrassment. I looked at her and told her about them being brand new. We just stared at each other, and then broke into laughter, even as I still had tears.

    I just gave myself to her, asking her in fact, to take care of me. She gently pulled down my underpants. She looked at me with curiosity and wonder, not trying to fake not looking at me. I looked down, and wondered how she could possibly be turning this into something...OK.

    Then, I noted my pubic hair, and felt another wave of shame. It was a reminder of my being a "big boy" who was not supposed to wet his pants, and certainly not in front of a girl. She took a wash cloth and gently patted me dry there, and on my legs, and had me lie down on a table and patted me dry on my back, and buttocks and between my cheeks, like a baby.

    She put my clothes in the washer, and led me to the shower. She soaped me and washed me everywhere, and the impact of true nurturing, true caring, was overwhelming. My tears were now coming from another of love, the unconditional love I was recieving from this remarkable girl/woman, unlike anyone, other than my mother.

    She held me to her breast...sitting on a couch, me naked and her fully clothed and told me it was ok. We were not hurt. It was not a "car accident." Besides, she said, with a playful, but gentle smile, you certainly gave me and the kids some good entertainment. She said this with fun humor in her did not hurt coming from her.

    She told me it would be our secret, except for her best friend, to whom she tells everything. And that friend was all ready off to college in another state. She told me that I might have to endure a little kidding from the kids, but that it was understandable, as they probably have fresh memories of accidents and that it was probably great fun for them to see it happen to a "big boy."

    I felt a little jealousy, sitting there, with my mystery dissolved, so to speak, while hers was beneath her clothes. But that made the wait more enticing, and besides, I had just sneaked a good long peek into her heart.

    A week later, she and I made love for the first time for both of us. So it was all tied together, and the seemingly worst moment of my life turned out to flow, so to speak, into a confluence with the most giving, nurturing and sensuous incident of my life. She was, and is, remarkable. And I think of that accident. And I wonder if it really was an accident. This embarrassing worst moment for me turned into the first, and in many ways the best, love of my life.

    #4066 — Comments (9) — Apr 21, 2001 at 5:50 PM — That's Juicy! (6) Remove It.
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    one of the guys in my office is a real crack-up and is telling jokes all the time. i'll call him peter. well peter was telling this dirty joke one day to me and a couple of the other girls, and when he got to the punch line, we were all laughing our asses off when I felt a warm wetness "down there". I went to the bathroom and saw a big wet spot on my panties. I was so embarassed even though I was wearing a dress and you couldn't really see. I thought it was a fluke but now for the past two weeks every time peter tells one of his really good jokes, pee leaks out all over me!! I hate it! I have an appointment to have a doc check it out but in the mean time I am trying to avoid peter as much as I can!!!

    #3783 — Comments (5) — Mar 14, 2001 at 5:46 PM — That's Juicy! (0) Remove It.
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    I was at my uncle's place for a poker game and had to use the bathroom, and, well, when I flushed, the toilet had a hard time handling what I'd deposited. I stood there and watched the drain hole plug up and water start to rise, and I thought "it will stop - it's not going to over flow." And of course it did.

    So, water is coursing over the rim of the toilet, and I'm searching for something to stop it. I don't want to use any of their towels, so I bite the bullet and as I remove my socks, I think how glad I am I didn't wear sandals that day. After I put them down to keep water from going under the cabinets, I turned off the water at the valve ... just in time, because by now several pieces of shit are floating and bobbing up against the rim ready to spill out. I mop up the brown-tinged water with my formerly white socks, wringing them out in the sink, and this takes freaking forever. At one point someone came to check on me because I'd been gone so long.

    Fortnately there is a plunger in the cupboard, and I am able to plunge the drain out. I turn the water back on and flush again for good measure, and doesn't the fucker start to fill up again! I turn off the water again, an inch from the rim this time, and plunge the hell out of the thing. The water finally goes through, and I wipe up the floor with toilet paper to dry it off - there was probably more e coli on that floor than in a waste water treatment plant.

    I sneak out of the house and put the damp socks in my car, and give my hands, feet, and arms a good washing, then walk back to the game with a "Sorry guys ... don't go in there for a while."

    #4183 — Comments (0) — Mar 7, 2001 at 10:14 AM — That's Juicy! (2) Remove It.
  • — Gross —
    Posted by Anonymous

    One night, I stayed over at a girlfriend's house and we made love a couple of times before we went to sleep. I'd wanted to give her oral sex, but she was only interested in straight intercourse that night ... which was fine. The next morning, we woke up to find our mid-sections covered in dried blood - her period had started while were were having sex. I down played it at the moment, though I was very glad that she'd not wanted oral sex that night!

    Actually, this was much more embarrassing for her, I guess, but it still qualifies as an embarrassing moment.

    #4122 — Comments (0) — Mar 5, 2001 at 11:26 AM — That's Juicy! (3) Remove It.
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