I Caught My Brother Peeping Through The Campsite Toilet Wall While I Peed


First Peep

The Pit of Doom was the best ever name for the camp toilet. Nothing like a real bathroom, Dad and Tom dug a deep hole away from the campsite, then they made a support over the hole with timber pieces they bought with them. And finally they fitted a plastic commode seat over the lot. To stop me and Mom completely falling in the hole, they had four flat boards in front for our feet. A long length of brown burlap surrounded this creation. Supported up on poles it was supposed to offer privacy, and even the entrance flap had a latch attached to keep it closed. Then in an attempt to make it more like home they added a pole with hooks for paper and any clothes, but really it was nothing like home, and we were stuck here for the next three weeks.

“I’ll get the paper,” Mom said keenly. “I’ll try it first.”

“You better get the smell-be-gone,” Dad said to Tom, my older brother.

Anyhow, that name was false advertising. This white powder did nothing to stop the smell.

“Try to enjoy yourself a little,” Dad said quietly to me when the others had gone. “I know it’s not like college.”

I will Dad. It makes a change from study.”

“Good girl. You used to love camping like this when you were younger.”

But that was years ago. But he was right too. When Tom and me were younger it was great to spend carefree days exploring the countryside, and Tom never lost that fun.

- - -

A day of study planned, but by mid-morning my mind had turned to mush. Mom was out somewhere near where Dad was trying to catch a fish, and my brother was nowhere to be seen. He often went out for hours. He always said he was exploring. Years back, that would have been me too, but for now my bush exploring was facing the camp toilet. It wasn’t that bad really, although my friends from college would call it primitive and wouldn’t use it, but they weren’t here. The flap to the light brown privacy screen was directly ahead and the slightly open entrance indicated no one was inside.

Through the flap, and the material hooked to seal the entrance. Ahead was the commode seat atop the four boards that held it over the pit of doom. We’d named it that when we were kids and the name stuck, all joking what would happen if the seat slipped and one of us fell down, but that had never happened. Carefully leaning over the hole to see traces of white powder and paper scattered in the bottom and below that something that was giving off a gross smell. It had to be my brother’s. My turn to add to it.

Jeans down, and then my panties following, both tied to spare hooks. Mom and me had learnt this to save accidents. Perched up on the seat with only open space in front, there was no guarantee what direction our pee might go, so now we took our clothing out of the area, and spread our feet wide too. One trip back to camp with sopping pants had been enough. Finally ready to nestle my bare bum on the seat over the pit of doom, my feet well spread, so things should be safe. Safe enough to let my pee go where it must.

That’s when I heard it.

My preparations before were masking the noise, but now there was clear sounds of movement to my left. Not much, but enough to say something was there. Still and ears pricked waiting, but only silence now. Must have been a small animal or bird. My pee was ready to flow, so I let it go, looking down between my legs to watch most of the yellow stream making for the hole below with only a tiny rivulet wetting the ground in front and none getting on my legs. Underneath me, the satisfying crackle of paper being splashed and my smell on top now masking those who’d gone before.

There was that noise again.

My breathing stopped and both ears straining. Something was moving close to the burlap wall on my left. Something out my eye too. Was that a shadow moving through the wall. Hard to be sure. But that couldn’t happen. We’d checked it years ago. This material was so tightly weaved, nothing could see through it.

Grabbing for my panties, then jeans. Definite movements from outside again, and this time there were steps walking away through the undergrowth. Definite footsteps. Someone had been spying on me!

That flap was unlocked in record time then the sprint in the direction of the noises. Nothing. Nothing at all. Years of camping had taught me the sounds of the bush, and I was certain of what I’d heard. Walking around the burlap wall to where the noise had come from, the signs of an intruder was obvious. Grass pressed down right against the fabric wall, and closer still, a small hole in the burlap where some of the course strands of material had been pried apart to make a small peephole. Kneeling on the crumpled grass, with my head at the right height and an eye up to the hole, it was the perfect height to spy on whoever was sitting on the toilet seat. Someone had been watching me pee and it could only be one person.

My brother!




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