From the confession of Gary Jones:
It was my employer who started it. It wasn't like I just thought of it out of the blue.
I worked for Tidy Relief Enterprises, one of the companies that makes Port-a-potties, you know those little portable toilets made out of plastic. They put them up where people will need to relieve themselves but there are no ordinary toilets around. If organizers are expecting a crowd, they need bunches of them so they set them up in rows.
Like most companies, Tidy Relief wants to find out how their products are used so they can better meet their customers' needs. They knew the basics of what their customers were doing, of course, but the management wanted more detail.
You could get people to fill out questionnaires, and they did. But people don't always tell the truth on questionnaires, and when it's about something as personal as using a Port-a-potty, they're more likely to fudge things or leave things out.
So the obvious idea was to put a tiny camera in some Port-a-potties to record what the customers did in there. But that was so illegal that management wouldn't even think off it. But my associate Carl is an ambitious guy, and sometimes you have to bend the rules a little to succeed in business. He decided he'd break the rules, find out what went on in those Port-a-potties, and report it to his managers. He'd never tell them how he got his data, but with a few winks they'd know it was real.
But Carl needed help, and that's when I got my job. You see, Carl knew some things about me that I really didn't want anyone to know. Some of them were illegal, technically speaking. Others would seriously annoy some powerful people. So the idea was that if Carl got me to break the law big time, he knew I wouldn't rat on him, because if I did, he'd rat on me.
So Carl set up the tiny little cameras and collected the video. But he was a manager and he didn't have time for the grunt work. It was up to me to look over the videos and see exactly what was going on in there.
So I had all this video to go through, and mostly it was pretty dull. Person enters, pulls down or up clothing to expose privates, sits on the toilet and lets it go. Wipes. Reassembles clothing, opens door and leaves. That's the basics.
But there were plenty of details, and lots of things to measure: whether guys stood up or sat down, time on toilet, which items of clothing removed or adjusted before use, how much toilet paper used, ways people devised to do something resembling washing their hands, pads and tampons, "inappropriate items released into toilet", blah, blah, blah.
Most of it was boring. Sometimes it was kind if icky, what with the varieties of Number Two, and accidents people had before they made it into the privacy of the Port-a-potty.
But you wouldn't believe how many guys went in, whipped out their dick and jerked off. Thirty seconds at most. It's hardly romantic, but they wanted relief, and it worked!
Occasionally there was a woman who fingered herself pretty fast and furious too. It was fun to see the faces they made when they got off. I got a hard-on watching them. One in particular I watched over and over again. A few you could tell really wanted to get off, but they'd rub and rub, maybe look at their watch, rub some more, and eventually give up.
Watching some of those women I wished I could help them out. Now I've never had a girlfriend; I'd go on a few dates but it just wouldn't click. What I wanted most was sex. Jerking off is fun, but it's just not the same. I thought about those women trying to get off. They say women are really picky and most of them don't just want to have sex with a guy -- it has to be a particular guy. But these women in the Port-a-potties, they didn't care who the guy was -- he was imaginary -- they just wanted to get off. So, I thought that if I could get them in the right mood, maybe I could be the guy and give them what they wanted.
There's this thing in medicine called "IV Sedation". It's better than general anesthesia because the patient stays conscious and can answer simple commands, swallow, blink and so forth. But they don't feel much pain, and then don't remember anything about what happened. I thought maybe I could find something like that to get the girls in the right mood. I loved the idea of them obeying commands and not remembering what happened.
Well, I have some connections. It turns out that the doctors know just how to do what I wanted, though it doesn't have an approved medical use. The patients can be more alert if there isn't a lot of pain you need to mask. There's some potential for abuse, actually. Not in my case -- I was just helping these girls to get the relief they wanted so much.
Carl couldn't say he was hiring me to look at illegal tapes, of course. I had to have a real job too. So I was in charge of maintenance of Port-a-potties in a district. I had my territory, and if there were no complaints, I was the only one who ever serviced those Port-a-potties.
There is this complex of ball fields with banks of Port-a-potties, because when there are big games they get big crowds. That's where I did my experiment. I told the ball field people I was going to build a little shed to keep maintenance things in. I told them it would be at Tidy Relief's expense, but I paid for it myself. The company never knew about it. I built this shed behind one of the banks of Port-a-potties, right up flush against them. I put a false back on one of the stalls that was right adjacent to the shed, and a corresponding hole in the shed too, of course. The shed's main furnishing was a single bed. Maybe you can see where this is going.
I knew that if I flooded an enclosed space like a Port-a-potty with gas I could get a good concentration pretty fast. And if the gas contains that drug related to the IV sedation drug, I could easily make myself a dopey, compliant female sitting on the potty with her panties around her ankles.
I first made sure that worked reliably. For a bunch of women, I asked questions through the false back that they'd never answer in their normal state. I could lead up to questions like, "When did you last have sex?" If they answered that, I knew I had them in the right mood. It always worked, so I could go on to the next phase.
I started opening the false back and asking the dopey, compliant female to put her clothing back together and step over the bench with the toilet seat into my shed. I'd ask her to expose her private parts and lie on the bed with her legs spread wide. She always would.
You'd be amazed how many women just never have sex because everything has to be just right with the perfect guy, and it never happens. It's a shame. My plan would help them get some sexual satisfaction and release, for their own good.
I knew that a vibrator was the fastest way to get a woman hot and ready for sex. I could apply it to the right spot between her legs. I'd never seen the private parts of a naked woman before, but the web has illustrations that worked well enough. She would already be relaxed, so there would be no inhibitions or anxiety getting in the way. She was compliant, and was especially happy to hold the vibrator herself and follow my instructions: Make yourself feel good.
Then, when she was good and ready, I'd take the vibrator back and fuck her. I could have just let her get off with the vibrator, but that's not really satisfaction, right? Real sexual satisfaction is getting a cock up her pussy -- that's what a female really wants, right? Some scientists even did a study where girls who get sperm up their pussy were happier than girls who didn't.
It's true, I enjoyed it too. I mean, I can still feel it. First I'd strip from the waist down, then hold myself up over the girl in just the right spot, stick my cock into her goopy pussy, and hump away until I got that good feeling and pumped a bunch of sperm up inside her cunt. The sperm that makes a woman happy.
When I was done I'd have her put herself back together and go back through the opening of the false back panel and sit on the potty. I'd close it up and flood the room with another chemical that wakes her up.
The girl never remembered a thing. She'd be a little groggy and think she must have fallen into a daydream there in the Port-a-potty, but she'd get up and go about her business.
It was really a win-win proposition. She got to feel tons of sexual pleasure and satisfaction. She wouldn't get any morning-after anxiety or anything. Her body would be satisfied even if her mind didn't remember how it had happened. I got to fuck her, which I enjoyed a lot, actually. I lost my virginity back there in the shed behind the Port-a-potties.
Now, that's the basics but there's a ton of details.
First, I could be very picky. I had cameras out front, so I could get a good look at the girl before she came into my lair. Obviously I didn't have to gas anybody but the few girls I wanted. No 300-pounders or old ladies for me! No homely young women either.
I had to lock most of the other Port-a-Potties in the row so the little indicators showed red and the female had to come to mine, the only one with green. You can limit the place to a single working Port-a-potty when there aren't many people around, like when teams are practicing. I also had a few of the other ones hooked up so I could switch the door handle back and forth electronically. So for instance when my "date" approached, I'd be sure mine was the only green door, but once she came in, I'd make a few others available so no big line formed in front of mine.
I had to release the gas the moment the girl shut the door, because those females empty out pretty fast when they pee. Once she was in her relaxed state, I could ask her anything, even before I opened the false back. If she was there to do Number Two, I'd usually just skip her -- let her do her business and go her way. Same if she was having her period. I could blow in the wake-up gas and she never suspected a thing.
But the fact that all of us have to do number two sometimes is what helps the plan work. Females usually are part of groups. If the others knew for sure she was just going to pee, they might come looking for her if she wasn't back in five minutes. But they could never rule out that she had something more time-consuming to do, so it would cover my time with her.
Still, I knew not to be a big lover-boy back there. Half an hour was too long, but that was never an issue. From what I had read, ordinarily a girl expects to make out for a long time before agreeing to let you stick it in, and then once you're there you have to go on a long time while she gets happy before you can finally let loose and cum. Sounds like a real pain.
I was happy with quickies. Ten seconds of total cock-pussy contact is my record. But a few minutes was usually what I liked best. I mean, you know, orgasm feels great, but if you can handle a little delayed gratification, the pre-orgasm fucking feels awfully good too.
I mentioned a vibrator. Strictly speaking, it's optional. A few times I just used nothing and maybe I got to know what it's like to just plain rape a woman. She's not wet and it chafes. It was just a way to get myself to ejaculate quick -- the motion didn't really feel good itself. You could use K-Y, but I like natural better. Females make the stuff that lubricates and lets your dick slide in and out freely. It's a sign of welcome from them, a sign they want it. They produce it very easily, so I like to use it.
But I always let a girl do more with the vibrator than just get herself wet. I'd let her do herself with it until she got excited. I always remembered to stick a rag of some kind in her mouth first in case she was a screamer. Sometimes I'd just let her come. Then she'd be lying there relaxed and happy as I fucked her. She'd be happy but it was definitely a "taking turns" kind of thing. Sometimes I'd try for simultaneous orgasm. I'd ask her to tell me when she was close, and just then I'd take the vibrator away from her. Then when I plunged my cock in and started humping, sometimes she'd come too. They got some stimulation from my fucking cock even if I wasn't doing just the right motion for them. And they like the idea of being fucked too. So a girl would sometimes come right when I plunged in, or sometimes might when I was humping away up there, and sometimes she'd come just as she felt me shooting my wad. If none of that worked, I'd just enjoy the afterglow of my conquest for a little while, then just hand her the old vibrator again and let her finish herself.
Sometimes I had the girls show me their boobs, but it didn't matter much to me. I'm a pussy man, I guess. I like fucking the old-fashioned way.
I know if a girl says No, you can't have sex with her. But here she was saying Yes. She said Yes under the drugs, true, but the sex she was saying Yes to was going to be under the drugs too. The permission fit the situation, and she wouldn't remember it to regret it later. Getting consent without drugs for sex without drugs makes sense, and so does getting consent under the drug for sex under the drug. See?
I know some of the girls liked it, because I'd see them come back to the very same stall. They couldn't remember the sex itself, but maybe they remembered coming out of that daydream feeling relaxed and content.
There were a few practical problems, too.
My drugs worked great so she'd wake up sitting on the potty with her panties around her ankles, thinking she'd been daydreaming. But if she had girl juice and sperm all over the place, that wouldn't have been any good. I guess a girl might get a little girl juice from an erotic daydream, but not tons and definitely not sperm.
So once the two of us recovered from our orgasms, we'd start on pussy cleanup. First I'd have her stick her finger up there and pull most of the stuff out. Then I'd use a cold washcloth to wipe her. It would get her clean, and the cold part helped her pussy lips to shrink down to normal size again. I'd finish off with some wet wipes everywhere and then we were all set.
Then I made sure we never passed any diseases back and forth. I was a virgin, so that was no problem. I could have used a condom to protect myself, but I didn't like them the few times I tried. It doesn't feel as good, and I like the idea of putting my load up where God meant it to go.
So to keep from getting any diseases from them, I watched who I invited into my little shed. No sluts. I definitely asked the girl if she had any diseases -- part of the standard questions before I began. I'd also ask her how many guys she's done it with, and what kind. If it's not what I wanted to hear, I'd just let her go. Once or twice I was just really hot for her and I took a chance.
One way to avoid disease is to take girls on the young side. Most high school girls haven't gotten fucked by many guys, and if they have, they're usually pimply faced boy virgins.
And disease aside, young ones are the best anyway. They've got the freshest bodies. Maybe older women could do cool things if we were really 'making love', but these were all quickies. All I really wanted the females to do was get nice and hot with the vibrator, then lie there with their legs spread. I didn't need them to touch me -- seeing a hot body, plunging my dick in and then coming inside her hot cunt was plenty for me.
So that was the disease part. Then there's pregnancy.
First I worried about it a little, but then I figured there's fate. I mean, these girls need sex to be satisfied, right? It all started when I'd see a few of them using their fingers to get off. And part of being satisfied and having sex is the possibility of babies. It comes with the territory. And most women want to have babies at some point. I figured if it happened it was God's will.
The age of consent is 16 around here, and I took that for a limit for a while, but then began wondering why. Maybe 16 is a good rule ordinarily, but my girls all said yes anyway. So if they'd say yes if they were 16, why not let them say yes when they were younger too? After I gave up on 16 as a cutoff my rule was anywhere in high school. But then I began to wonder what age had to do with it. If she has a woman's body and she can get hot and wet with a vibrator and her pussy can give a warm, welcoming grasp to my dick, why not? I stopped asking about age. I figured it didn't really matter.
Then of course there's the matter of virginity. Oh, virginity. All guys love the idea of taking a virgin. I certainly do. But there are added complications.
One problem is getting through into her cunt. Some virgins are tough to get into, but I've found if I ram hard enough I can get in before long.
Then there's pain. Every girl's going to lose her cherry at some point, and it's going to hurt. So she might as well lose it with me. There are advantages to the situation. She's not panicked -- not afraid it's going to hurt. She's not physically tensed up, which can make it hurt more. She's all hot and excited from the vibrator, which she wouldn't be with some boy in a big hurry awkwardly fumbling around with her. Most of all, the drug dims the pain a little anyway. And of course she doesn't remember a thing.
The biggest problem with virginity is hiding the evidence. Blood makes that pussy cleanup part harder. It stops flowing pretty soon -- usually by the time I'd finished fucking her it was done. If it was still seeping, a little ice in a washcloth right against her opening would help.
There's other evidence to hide. The girl had a cherry when she went in to pee, and somehow it was missing when she came out. Girls know they can lose their cherries from doing things other than sex, but not from daydreams in the Port-a-potty. Fortunately they aren't poking around all the time to know just when it happened, so I felt pretty safe there.
And then there's discomfort that keeps going. I hear girls can stay sore after losing their virginity for days. Fortunately for me, when girls hit puberty all sorts of mysterious things can happen to their pussies, so a little pain wasn't going to stand out too much. I'd paint a little Anbesol around her opening if she had bled a lot. I figure if the girl didn't start hurting for a half hour, she'd never think that the Port-a-potty was related to her troubles.
And then the younger they are, the more embarrassed girls are to talk to other people about funny things going on in their pussies. They couldn't say they had been raped since they had no memory of it. Everyone would assume that they must have let some guy get at them, and then they'd be in big trouble.