Fixing Lisas Plumbing Problem

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - In the Australian city of Geelong in 1998, 19-year-old apprentice plumber Simon finds himself increasingly attracted to his older brother Mark's wife Lisa when they temporarily move in following delays building their house. Simon also notices early warning signs that their marriage isn't going too well.

Nothing seems likely to come of Simon's observations or his voyeurism of Lisa until the morning when Lisa has an embarrassing problem with the toilet and needs Simon's help. How could one little plumbing problem lead to so much? Read 'Fixing Lisa's Plumbing Problem' to find out.

Please note that this story contains fetish subjects of urination, scat and menstruation, so these topics may not to be everyone's taste. Otherwise, enjoy and rate and comment. All characters are aged 18 and older and they and the events in this story are fictional, with any similarity to real people living or dead coincidental and unintentional.

*

Some people meet their spouses very young in life, and my brother Mark four years older than me and his wife Lisa were a prime example of this. They were born a week apart in 1975, first met in kindergarten and grew up together in the Australian city of Geelong, the second largest city in the state of Victoria and located about an hour or so south west of the capital city Melbourne.

Lisa and Mark seemed like birds that pair for life and were always together. So it was little surprise that in autumn 1996 Mark and Lisa exchanged marriage vows at age 20 on the scenic Geelong foreshore, the blue waters of Corio Bay and the Geelong Pier in the background.

Mark stood looking most handsome in his tuxedo, with me standing at his shoulder as his best man. Lisa looked very pretty in her white wedding dress, and at her shoulder was her sister and bridesmaid Bianca, who like me was four years younger than her sibling. However, if anyone thought that Bianca and I would be a good couple then they would be mistaken. We were in the same year at school and I think we exchanged about twelve words the whole time. Bianca despite her good looks was pretty flaky, always making up far-fetched stories to get attention and very much into heavy metal type guys. I wasn't a heavy metal guy.

While my parents would not have been impressed if their younger son Simon (i.e. me) was married to Bianca, they were similarly not impressed by having Lisa as a daughter-in-law. They had never liked Lisa despite knowing her since she was a little girl, as she grew from pre-teen to teenager to a young woman and there seemed little prospect of this changing anytime soon.

Lisa was an unusual girl in that she somehow managed to be both pretty and plain at the same time. Her long light brown hair with modest bangs cascaded down past her shoulders, her pretty eyes were flawless blue, she had a nice fair complexion and with an average height of five feet five, Lisa sported a pretty good body, everything in proportion with round C cup breasts and a cute bum. Not that I of course had seen Lisa's bottom or boobs uncovered by clothes unlike Mark.

My sister-in-law worked as an accounts assistant in a company in Geelong, driving there and back every day in her small hatchback car, so it wasn't like she had some weird job or no job at all which would be an obvious worry to the parents of her husband. The problem lay with Lisa's personality.

Lisa wasn't a rude girl, she wasn't abrasive or intrusive, far from it. Lisa wasn't what you would call a very bright girl, but she wasn't stupid. Nor was she an attention seeker like her younger sister Bianca. The main problem with Lisa was that she was boring. Just flat out boring, dull as dishwater.

Holding a conversation with Lisa was hard work. She never seemed enthused about anything, and her reaction was always the same flat response. For example, if Lisa and Mark had been to the movies and I asked her how it was, she would say, "It was alright." If Mum asked her how her parents were, Lisa would say, "They're fine." If Dad asked how her day was at work, she would say, "Okay I guess."

Lisa rarely if ever would say anything to continue a conversation. If I asked her how her day was, she would say, "Fine thanks," and that would be it, no elaboration, no asking about my day. This wasn't a recent thing. When we were kids we went for a drive out to the Twelve Apostles on the Great Ocean Road. I would have been about nine at the time, Lisa and Mark thirteen. Lisa showed no interest in the amazing rock formations and great views, no enthusiasm at the day's outing at all. And it was the same when we went to Melbourne for the day, and on our trip to the Luna Park amusement park at St Kida Beach Lisa showed as much enjoyment as she might have done at school.

Not helping Lisa was her voice. She had a monotonous type of voice, a very pronounced Australian accent with a whiny tone and she would sigh often, not knowing she was doing it. She was the same with her own family and her and Mark's circle of friends too, and from what I knew of her, had no hobbies or interests. When asked which activity or course of action she would prefer, Lisa would usually sigh and say in her whiny voice, "Oh, I don't know."

Another reason that Mum and Dad didn't like Lisa was that they felt Mark had married beneath himself. With a six foot four muscular frame, blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin, my handsome Adonis-like brother looked more like a Hollywood leading man than an engineer. He could have had the pick of any girl he wanted, and to our parents disappointment he had chosen the plain, unassertive, mousy little accounts clerk with the whiny voice with whom one could never hold a proper conversation. In their minds, Mark had settled for a girl well below him, and now they were stuck with a daughter-in-law they had absolutely no time for.

For over 18 months after Mark and Lisa's wedding, Mum and Dad's contact with their dull and disliked daughter-in-law was limited to visits to the house by Mark and family gatherings. Mark and Lisa were renting a house in a Geelong suburb, and had purchased a block of land and were building their first home. As for me, at age 19 and not that long out of high school I was still living at home with Mum and Dad, working as an apprentice plumber, a trade that had long interested me.

Things weren't going very well with the progress of Mark and Lisa's new house, with one problem and delay after another. It was falling further and further behind and it would not be until at least July 1998 before they could move in. This presented a problem in December 1997 when the lease on their rental house expired and the investor owner had sold the property to a new buyer who wanted to live in the house, so Mark and Lisa had to move out. Trying to get a new rental home for six months was difficult, competition was tight, the agents and owners wanted a year's lease and in any case if their new home was delayed again in July they would have the same problem when this lease expired.

With Lisa's bedroom at her parents' house now occupied by her widowed grandmother and Bianca still living at home there was no room for them there, and their only option was to rent Mark's old room from our parents until their house was finally completed mid-year. So just before Christmas 1997, Mark and Lisa moved in with Mum, Dad and I. Mum and Dad were very happy to have their older son living there, but their enthusiasm for Lisa living with them was deeply in the red.

It was now March 1998, and Mark and Lisa had been living here for three months now. For Mum and Dad, it probably seemed like three years, but I hadn't minded as much. And in these three months, I had learned plenty about Mark, Lisa and myself.

On a number of occasions I had heard Mum and Dad lamenting that Mark had settled for Lisa, and hadn't cast aside his unimpressive partner to find a much better girl who would make an ideal daughter-in-law and mother of their grandchildren. Now, I was wondering if perhaps Lisa had gotten the raw end of the deal in marrying my brother as I was seeing things about their relationship I hadn't noticed before, maybe because I was too young earlier and now was older and a bit wiser.

Growing up I had kind of lived in Mark's shadow -- he played in the A side at football and cricket, I was in the B team. We both had blonde hair, were tall and looked somewhat alike as brothers, but as well as being an inch taller than me Mark was much better looking and his fine masculine physique easily eclipsed my skinny frame. We had gotten along well enough, but now I was paying attention to the way he behaved with his wife, and I wasn't liking what I was seeing.

Mark was actually pretty controlling of Lisa, clearly the dominant one in the relationship and to be blunt, kind of a jerk. One time they were talking with Mum and Dad about when they had kids a few years down the track, and Mark stated flat out that when they did, that Lisa would have to quit work to take care of them as taking care of children was the responsibility of the wife/mother. There was no wavering in his tone, just a flat command with completely inflexible thinking behind it.

Neither Mark nor Lisa were what you would call an overly affectionate couple in public, but sometimes Mark would insist on holding one of Lisa's hands when she was trying to eat. It was obvious that Lisa didn't like it and it hampered her using her cutlery, but being so unassertive she didn't say anything. And Mark's motives were clearly more than those of affection, there was a definite possessiveness about the way he held Lisa's hand like that as though to say, 'She's my personal property, and nobody else gets anywhere near her.'

Snapping the strap of Lisa's bra against her back seemed to be the way Mark had fun with her. Lisa clearly did not like it, and would protest, "Please don't," in her soft, whiny voice with an annoyed expression on her face, but Mark would still keep right on doing it. The way Mark treated his wife's bras like they were his personal toys to play with, it was pretty immature behavior from a guy normally so sensible and grounded, more fitting of a boy aged 11-13 annoying girls in his class by snapping their training bra straps.

Mark and Lisa weren't the type of couple to have stand up, blazing arguments, largely because Lisa was not at all assertive, but on occasions there would be tensions. One day when our parents were out, I saw Mark and Lisa on the patio having an argument, I think the ongoing problems with their new house were causing them some friction. However it wasn't a typical quarrel, it was Lisa sitting in a chair while Mark stood over her, talking directly into her face. He had raised his voice but wasn't yelling, and was more like a male teacher lecturing a female student and stepping well over the line.

Lisa did nothing except cry into some tissues the whole time Mark berated her in his stern, overbearing and authoritarian manner. She never stood up for herself, and continued to sit there crying after Mark stormed away, using large amounts of tissues to wipe away her tears and to blow her nose. I felt so sorry for her and wanted to go and comfort her, but figured it was a private dispute between husband and wife, and it was better I stayed out of it, which I did.

The thing I found about myself from Mark and Lisa moving back home for a while was that despite her dull and overall unappealing personality and that while pretty enough she was never model material was that I found her desirable.

Perhaps it was envy of my brother for finding a girl and I had had no such luck, perhaps I felt sorry for Lisa given their marriage was clearly not sunshine and rainbows most of the time, or maybe it was because there was the novelty of a young female living at our house, I had been noticing Lisa in ways I probably shouldn't, and obviously kept quiet from my parents, Lisa herself and most definitely my brother.

I would notice Lisa's fine figure around the house in a variety of clothes, and I especially loved seeing her in her nightwear, an oversized tee-shirt worn over panties with most of her legs exposed and her feet bare. I would loiter outside the bathroom while Lisa took a shower, imagining her naked under the water and washing her vagina.

On laundry days I would look at Lisa's bras and panties hanging on the washing line to dry. Lisa mostly wore two pairs of knickers each day, one during the day, another pair overnight, so there would be on average 14 pairs of Lisa's panties pegged out to dry each week. And Lisa had very pretty knickers, all of them were cotton bikini-style panties. Some were pure white, others pastel shades of pink, blue, lemon, light green, lilac or apricot. Other pairs of her knickers were white with different flowers on them; blue, yellow, red, pink and purple. She had a pair of knickers with a seascape print of seahorses, starfish, dolphins and shells, a pair with different colored polka dots, a white pair with a rainbow on the front panel, a pair of knickers with different colored ice-cream cones on them and another with different types of fruit.

Sometimes when alone in the house, I would fantasize about sneaking into Lisa and Mark's bedroom and looking through her underwear drawer at her bras and knickers, then going through her laundry hamper and extricating her dirty panties awaiting laundry day, sniffing all of Lisa's feminine stains and smells from between her legs. This fantasy only amounted to that; fantasy. Each time I lost my nerve and never could summon up the courage to look through Lisa's underwear drawer or sniff her worn knickers in the laundry.

Late in March, I was going to be alone in the house with Lisa for a week. Mark's job sometimes took him away interstate. In early February he had been in Sydney for a week, now it was Adelaide for a week and he was leaving on Sunday morning. Mum and Dad were already away, they had departed on Friday for a two week holiday in Queensland with Dad's brother and his wife, and Mum's sister and her husband. I think two weeks away from Lisa were more of a drawcard for Mum and Dad than the tourist attractions of Brisbane and the Gold Coast.

On the Saturday, I made myself scarce figuring that Mark and Lisa might like to spend some alone time together as husband and wife and really enjoy themselves without me there as a third wheel. Their opportunity for this was limited to Saturday for two reasons. One of course, was that Mark was going away for work on Sunday. The second was that Lisa had had her period for the past six days, and had only stopped menstruating on Friday.

It was obvious that Lisa was on her period. I had seen her taking sanitary pads into the toilet with her, and emerging carrying flowery sanitary waste bags which she would put in the wheelie bin. Her usual light colored bath towels were replaced with a dark maroon towel, which only came out every four weeks. I had observed Lisa swallowing tablets from a packet that was white with pink trimmings and specifically for period pain. One time I was passing the laundry and Lisa must have had a menstrual mishap, her apricot-colored knickers soaking in a bucket of cold water, the panty saddle covered in red time of the month period stains.

There were other things too. One of the oddest things I had overheard my parents complaining about was their daughter-in-law's toilet habits, specifically how often she went, the lengthy sessions Lisa spent sitting on the loo, the large quantities of toilet paper she used, and the smells she left behind herself after she finished and flushed the toilet. I felt sorry for Lisa about that, as if her in-laws weren't critical enough of her as it was, they were also now criticizing the poor girl's private moments on the toilet on top of everything else, things Lisa couldn't help.

However I couldn't help but notice that whenever Lisa was on her period the toilet paper just went and went, and her already lengthy sessions on the toilet were longer. One time this week I had gone into the toilet just after Lisa had been to the loo for a pee, and I could smell the musty, fishy and feminine odor of Lisa's period around the bowl. Not only that, but a clot of Lisa's dark red menstrual blood had failed to go down the drain when she flushed the toilet, and was now floating in the otherwise clean toilet water.

And menstruation seemed to send Lisa's bowels crazy, the luckless young woman's poo stank absolutely terrible during her periods, like a combination of rotten cabbages, stagnant lake water and sulphur dioxide, and Lisa could not use the toilet spray as it gave her headaches. True, Lisa could -- and did -- leave a toilet smell behind herself when she went to the loo and moved her bowels on any day, but when she was on her period her feces stank to high heaven.

For the Saturday I went into Geelong in the morning, enjoying browsing around the shopping precinct and enjoying a walk along the foreshore at Corio Bay with its pier and charming bollard statues, before catching the noon train to Melbourne. I caught up with some friends in the city, then went to a party, and back home in Geelong I presumed Mark was getting into Lisa's pants. I then returned to Geelong on late Sunday afternoon, where only Lisa of course was at the house.

Lisa looked pretty hot wearing a tee-shirt and some denim shorts, her feet bare. "Did Mark get away okay to Adelaide?" I asked.

"Yeah," Lisa replied, not elaborating.

"How was the drive to the airport and back?"

"Fine." Again, no further details.

"Didn't we have nice weather this weekend?"

A shoulder shrug from Lisa. "I guess."

"What would you like for tea?"

A deep sigh and a whiny voice. "Oh, I don't know."

After this, I gave up on conversing any further with Lisa, and we exchanged about three more words for the rest of the evening before we went to bed.

*

Monday morning saw me dressed in my plumber's uniform and pretty but paradoxically plain Lisa dressed for work at her office in a white blouse, long blue floral skirt and white sandals, her light brown hair back in a pony-tail. Again, I tried to engage her in conversation, and again was met with either one word answers from my sister-in-law, or short sentences such as 'He's fine,' when I asked her how Mark was going in South Australia.

Tuesday morning was something of a replay, the only difference today being that Lisa was dressed in a black and white blouse and matching short black and white skirt that came to well above her knees, and black sandals that showed Lisa's pretty bare feet.

Again and as usual Lisa was no font of conversation before work, and the most words she spoke was as she stood up after breakfast and said, "I need to go to the toilet."

I was interested in several things at that precise moment. First, one of the straps of Lisa's white bra was showing and secondly, her knees came apart for a second or so when she stood up, and wearing such a short skirt I got a brief but wonderful glimpse of her white panties. Thirdly though, Lisa said she needed to go to the toilet, which meant soon she would lift up her skirt, pull her knickers down and sit down on the toilet to do personal and private things.

Feeling the stirrings of an erection in my underpants, I discretely followed Lisa, hearing my sister-in-law go into the toilet and close and lock the door, then a clicking sound as she put down the toilet seat, me having left it up earlier.

It was dead quiet in the house aside from a ticking clock, and soon there was another sound for me to listen to, the splashing, tinkling noise of Lisa peeing into the toilet. I listened eagerly to the sound of my sister-in-law urinating, my mind's eye seeing Lisa sitting on the toilet with her short skirt hitched up and her white knickers down around her ankles, the toilet water turning yellow as Lisa had her piss.