Toilet Treats

I'm a middle-aged man with a special turn-on: I like to watch women go to the toilet. For me, it's the ultimate voyeuristic thrill. I know it probably sounds like the sort of thing a little boy might get a kick out of—you know, watching a little girl (or even another little boy) "make." I just never outgrew it.

I'm happy to say that I'm currently blessed with four uninhibited girlfriends, all of whom I've repeatedly seen on the toilet. All four women have peed in front of me, and two of them have also b.m.'ed in front of me. I never asked any of them to let me watch, but with the kind of girls I go with, I don't have to ask. They all have a habit of leaving the bathroom door open and are apparently unembarrassed about doing their bodily functions with me looking. Often, I'll come into the bathroom and chat with them while they're sitting there. Sometimes I'll even kiss one of them while she's peeing. Can you get more personal than that?

I ought to mention that the women I go out with aren't exactly high-class. Two of them have spent time in mental wards, two others are semi-hookers who usually ask for (and get) money whenever they drop by.

Let me tell you about a recent incident involving one of these ladies. I've known her for years, and she's produced enough urine in my presence to create a sixth Great Lake. But much to my frustration, I'd never seen her do the other thing that one does in the toilet. Well, good things come to those who wait. Just recently, she had to go to the bathroom—and I went right in there with her. I sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched as she sat naked on the toilet. Soon, I heard a short noise that had clearly come from her rectum. Half a minute later, I heard it again. This was followed by the all-too-familiar sound of her urine gushing into the water of the toilet bowl. She finished peeing, wiped herself off, flushed and walked out of the bathroom. I stayed behind and peered leeringly into the toilet. There, among the toilet tissues and urine-yellowed water, I saw two brown chunks of solid body waste—the end products of my girlfriend's bowel movement.

Judy, I was in ecstasy! My prayers had finally been answered. I remained transfixed as the mixture of urine, tissue and b.m. swirled around and then disappeared down the toilet. Since then, being around this woman, or even just thinking about her, gets me more aroused than ever. Okay, now go ahead and tell me I'm a sicko!

—J.C.

P.S. Regarding all those men who write in asking what you look like: I'm one guy who knows what you look like, having attended one of your off-off-Broadway one-woman monologue performances. You're quite attractive.

Oh, c'mon—you throw sweet talk like that around and expect me to call you a sicko? Surely you jest. "Quite attractive" coming from a gentleman possessed with your obvious champagne-and-caviar taste—why, I feel a blush coming on!

I gotta tell ya, J.C. (does that stand for "Just Ca-Ca?"), you sure know how to turn a gal's head. And the fact that we were once in the same room together, you watching me and possibly imagining me pinching a loaf… Well, that doesn't creep me out a bit. No siree.

I get letters like yours more often than you might think. By which I mean the kind of note that practically begs me to mete out abuse. But what you have to remember (and please do not take this as a challenge or invitation) is that I've been in the advice biz for almost five years now. There is very little that shocks or disgusts me. Not only is your fetish rather pedestrian (start snacking on them turds and we'll talk), it seems that unlike most perverts, you have figured out a way to indulge yours: by dating hookers and the mentally ill. Go, you!

I am a recent transplant from Seattle to NYC, and I think that normal older guys with regular jobs are being misled by Hollywood and rich types in the media into thinking that older guys can easily get younger chicks. I am a 40-year-old man and I don't even like women under 30. (Besides, most 20-somethings here live at home and/or are very poor.) I think a 10-year gap in age is the general limit. What do you think?

—FTC

I think that younger women are more likely to be regular than older dames and therefore there are loads more opportunities to spy on them as they poop. However, a slightly more mature gal is more likely to have laxatives or stool softeners hidden away in her medicine cabinet, so I guess it's a draw—

Oh, wait. Oops. New question.

I don't think age matters that much. I once dated someone who was 12 years older than me, and another guy who was 11 years younger. Both got on my nerves—oddly, in very similar ways. Sure, it's swell to have common childhood-television reference points, but there are other qualities (sanity, a shared interest in fecal matter, a deep, abiding love for Jesus Christ) that are far more important than numbers on a calendar. o