So about a half-hour ago I was working on a project. I was standing there, clicking away, mousing furiously at something or other. I felt that rumbly tummy feeling.

"Ooh… I need to fart. Or do I? Is that a shit coming? No… I think it's a fart."

The sensation shifted around a little.

"No… maybe that is a shit."

The sensation shifted again.

"Fart. Definitely a fart. No doubt. heh heh… this feels like it's going to be a good one. I should try to be discreet. This one feels like it could rattle the windows on its way out. I'll just pinch up a little and let it eek out…"

So I pinched up my ass and tried to squeeze out the would-be fart.

"AAH! NOT A FART! NOT A FART!"

Only in the heat of the moment can I really appreciate how difficult it truly is to run while pinching my ass together. Better still, to run calmly while pinching my ass cheeks together.

Fucking Michael Douglas. I sharted. At work. Two hundred or so wipes later and my ass feels clean again. My underwear is stashed in a plastic baggie in my desk. I'm going commando for the rest of the day. Going commando is at least a moderately sexy thing, but that's completely demolished by the least sexy circumstances imaginable. It's been a while since I went commando. I'd forgotten how good it feels to have my junk bouncing around loose.

I should shit myself more often.