The Dinner Party (Kaymala 6)

[BeneathMyWillow 840]

This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order (although I think this is becoming less true). If interested the first episode and introduction of Simon and Ellen is here, the introduction of Mikah and Jasmine is here, and the introduction of Camille is here.

This is a pretty long one so I'll split it up over several comments.

***********************************

The first stars were appearing as Simon and Camille sat on the hostel steps. The street outside the hostel was quiet. They could hear the sound of the river lapping at the shore, and music from a bar somewhere in the distance. Across the road from them, a couple were nestled among the rocks on the shore, tangled up together. They weren't fucking yet, but were making progress -- the girl had her shirt off already, the guy nuzzling kisses between her boobs, both of them laughing. It was a pleasant evening.

A silver Skoda pulled up, disturbing the quiet night. Simon and Camille stood as two women climbed out. Both were about the same age as Simon and Camille, and both wore dresses that were barely long enough to cover the essentials, their legs glowing in the light from the open doorway. Simon knew the blonde, pale-skinned woman already -- she was Ellen, that he had met on the plane to Kaymala. The other woman had black hair and a darker complexion. Simon guessed this was Jasmine, who Ellen had said would be joining them.

“So this is the guy you were telling me about?” Jasmine said, after they had exchanged pleasantries. She eyed Simon up and down, slightly doubtfully. “He doesn't look like I expected.”

“And you're Camille?” Ellen said. “From France, did Simon say? More foreign blood is always welcome. Shall we go?”

Camille smiled as she shook Ellen's hand. She was wearing a pink dress that was rather tight around the chest, her tits straining against the fabric. It came down to about her knees, with black leggings underneath.

“Do you want my seat, Camille?” Jasmine said. “I'll sit in the back.”

“As long as you don't piss in my car again, Jasmine,” Ellen said. “I've only just cleaned it after last time.”

“Of course I won't,” said Jasmine, innocently.

They set off, Simon beside Jasmine in the back. They were headed to a dinner party organised by a friend of Ellen and Jasmine, a guy they knew from work. Ellen had called Simon to invite him, and said he was welcome to bring one or two people from the hostel if they were interested. The native Kaymalans had all turned the offer down, but Camille -- like Simon -- was interested to see another side of Kaymalan life.

The car was quite small, and Simon and Jasmine were sat quite close to each other. Her bare leg was only an inch away from his. Her skin was bronze and very smooth. Her cotton dress was so short it hardly covered anything, and he was sure she was wearing nothing underneath.

He glanced up to see her smirking at him, and realised he must have been obvious in his ogling, but Jasmine didn't seem to mind. In fact she winked at him.

“Watch this,” she said, and she pulled the hem of her dress up above her waist. He had been right to think she had nothing on underneath. For a moment Simon was confused -- was she just showing him her pussy? Then she shifted her position slightly so that her pussy was at the edge of the seat and started to pee. The seats were vinyl, so her piss mostly ran off the surface and down into the footwell.

Jasmine put her finger to her lips and winked again, nodding towards the seat in front of her where Ellen was driving, blissfully unaware. The radio was making enough noise to cover the sound.

Simon couldn't help staring at her unshaved vagina and at her stream of pee. When she pushed harder the stream came more forcefully, arcing past the front of the chair and falling to the floor directly.

He felt himself going stiff and quickly rearranged his trousers to try to hide it. Jasmine caught the movement though and smirked. She finished pissing and wiped herself with the hem of her dress. Then she reached across and slipped one hand down the front of Simon's trousers, feeling him. She raised her eyebrows.

“I see what Ellen meant,” she said.

“What are you two up to back there?” Ellen asked from the front.

Jasmine took her hand back out of Simon's trousers, smiling. “Save it for later,” she said to him.

The apartment block they were going to was a fancy-looking modern building, with lots of plate glass. Ellen pulled up in the parking lot and they rode the lift up. The hallway was a fresh, blue colour, every surface clean and shiny, and tastefully decorated throughout with paintings and pot plants.

Ellen and Jasmine led the way down the corridor, with Camille and Simon behind, Simon appreciating the way that Ellen and Jasmine's dresses rode up as they walked to reveal the lower half of their buttocks. The two girls' dresses almost matched, apart from the colours: Ellen's was pale blue and Jasmine's green.

“This is the one,” Ellen said, coming to a stop outside number 615. “Just wait a moment before we knock, I'm going to use the hallway.”

And she lifted her dress and squatted by the wall, where there was a small metal drain. Glancing down the corridor, Simon noticed that there were several more of these drains. He guessed they were there for just this purpose. Ellen's piss splattered over the shiny floor beside the drain. He took a moment to admire her vagina; he'd seen it before, and been inside it more than once, but he was always happy to see it again.

“I always pee if I need to before I go in someone's house,” Ellen said. “It's just awkward when you go in, you say hi and straight away you have to ask them where you can pee.”

“I think you have a good point,” said Camille. She squatted beside Ellen, lifting her skirt and peeing through her thin leggings onto the floor.

Simon decided he might as well join them in taking a leak. He crossed to a nearby pot plant and undid his flies. His pee splashed onto the stones in the vase, quickly trickling between them and out of sight.

He finished up and turned back to the group, tucking himself back into his trousers as he turned, not too bothered what anybody saw. The two girls had also stood up, Ellen wiping herself on a tissue she had taken from her bag. She was looking expectantly at Jasmine, the only person who hadn't peed. Jasmine shrugged.

“I just don't really need to go right now,” she said, her face and voice carefully innocent.

Ellen pressed the doorbell, and it quickly opened. A dark-skinned man stood in the doorway, in his early thirties, wearing a flower-patterned shirt and jeans and grinning at the sight of them. This must be Mikah, the work friend of Ellen's and Jasmine's who was hosting the dinner party.

“Good evening!” he said. “Great to see you all. My two favourite ladies! And you've brought friends, as promised. Come in, please.”

They followed Mikah into his flat, looking around. After a small hallway, Mikah led them into a kitchen-cum-dining-room. It was large for an apartment, and expensively decorated. The floor was polished wood, the counter-tops gleaming marble. The glass-topped table was already laid with plates and glasses, and a pot of something simmered on the hob, filling the room with the smell of tomato and garlic.

A woman stood by the fridge, pouring glasses of wine. She was probably a few years older than Mikah, with blonde hair and tanned skin. She wore a red dress and stockings. The skirt of the dress was open down one side, so Simon could see her leg, and see that her stockings ended at mid-thigh level. The top had a remarkably low-cut cleavage, almost down to her waist; the fabric on either side flapped loosely when she moved and looked in constant danger of slipping aside.

“Red or white?” she asked them. “We'll take the drinks through to the living room for a few minutes. He likes to be left alone when he's cooking.”

She said the last with a sly look at Mikah, and Simon wondered if she was trying to get a rise out of him, but he simply tipped his head in acknowledgement.

They took the glasses that she handed them and followed her through to the sitting room. It was similarly decorated, with a plush sofa and armchairs, a glass coffee-table, and a full-length window along one wall. The floor was wood again, except for a fine white rug under the coffee-table. A half-open door led to the bedroom, which was carpeted, and the double bed was freshly made.

The woman introduced herself as Melanie. She took a seat in one of the armchairs and gestured for the rest of them to sit as well.

“So, you two are the girls who've been keeping my husband exercised while I'm away, are you?” she asked, smiling mischievously at Ellen and Jasmine. “Well, he certainly chose two good-looking girls.”

“It was just the once,” said Jasmine. “Well, once each.”

“Hope we weren't, you know, stepping on your toes,” said Ellen.

“Not at all,” said Melanie. “We don't have that kind of relationship. Why limit oneself, you know what I mean? I know that whoever he sleeps with he'll end up back with me, and he knows the same about me. Now, you two are not from around here, did I hear that right?”

The last was directed at Simon and Camille, sat beside each other on the couch.

“Yes,” said Camille. “I am from France.”

“And I'm English,” said Simon.

“Excellent,” she said. “Are you settling in here?”

“I suppose so,” said Simon. There was a pointed meaning behind the question that he decided to ignore -- when Kaymalans talked about settling in to the country, they were talking about sex. “I've been here a few days, and Camille a bit longer.”

“I like it here,” said Camille, snuggling down into the couch.

Melanie smiled. Simon saw her eyes dart down to the line of Camille's dress, which had ridden up when she moved. Camille noticed too, but didn't react.

“You've got one hell of a view from up here,” Jasmine said. She was looking through the window, unaware of the double-meaning of her words. Simon looked over to the window as well. It was indeed a beautiful view, looking out over glass-fronted office blocks and streams of car headlights.

“Oh, yes, we love it,” Melanie said. “Especially Mikah. He has his morning routine -- perhaps you can explain this to me, Simon, because it must be a male thing. Every morning he gets out of bed and makes coffee, then he carries it over to the window to drink it. Still bollock naked, mind you, and cock as high as a flagpole. Then he stands there admiring the view and he does his morning piss up the glass. Every morning it's the same. Empties his whole bladder, it's like watching a waterfall. Then he brings the coffee back to bed, grinning like a monkey.”

“What's wrong with that?” Ellen said. “Sounds like great fun to me. I'd do it if I lived here. I mean, the architect put the drain there, right?” She pointed at the foot of the window, where there was indeed a drain along the floor. Now that Simon looked, there were actually several small drains positioned discreetly around the room.

“Well, perhaps,” Melanie said. “I don't understand it. But it gets him excited, and we have great sex afterwards, so maybe I shouldn't complain.”

Mikah appeared in the archway from the kitchen. “What are you all talking about?” he asked.

“Nothing, dear,” said Melanie. “Just about life, you know. How are you doing in there?”

“It's ready, in fact. Do you all want to come through?”

They picked up their glasses and followed him through to the dining room, but Simon saw Melanie hang back.

“One second,” she said. “Let me just take care of this.” She moved to one corner of the living room and squatted low to the ground, using the opening in her skirt to pull it to one side. Her stockings came up to mid-thigh, and like a lot of people around here she hadn't bothered with panties. She peed quickly and forcefully, the hissing noise audible even over the scraping of chairs from the next room. After a few seconds she stood, leaving the puddle to slowly spread towards the drain in the corner.

“We don't like to pee in the dining room,” she said to Simon, noticing him watching. “And I think it's good to empty your bladder before a meal, leave lots of room for the wine.”

[BeneathMyWillow 840]

They took their seats at the dinner table, where Mikah was serving up the food -- home-made gnocchi in olive oil, with plenty of sun-ripened tomato and other vegetables. Melanie topped up their glasses and they began to eat.

The conversation meandered around various topics -- for a while Mikah, Ellen and Jasmine talked about work, and then Camille told them a story about an ex-girlfriend in Paris -- but eventually the topic came back to sex.

“I just think it's better with a long-term partner,” Melanie said. “I'll tell you, there was a guy at my work that I was really into -- I've been fantasizing about him for months. Then on this work trip last week I finally got him in the sack. We were in this boring meeting all morning, and at coffee break I managed to persuade him to sneak off back to my room. But he really wasn't as great as I was expecting, you know?”

“That's different, though,” said Ellen. “You said you were thinking about him for ages, right? So you had high expectations.”

“I don't think that's it,” said Melanie. “Mikah knows what I like, we're on the same, I don't know, same wavelength. And this guy wasn't.”

“There might be something in that,” said Ellen, “but you have to know you like first, and that's something you find out by trying lots of different people, I reckon. It forces you to try new things, and that's how you find out what you like and what you don't.”

“For me, I agree with Ellen,” said Camille. “Back home I had a few boyfriends and girlfriends, and a couple of one-night stands. But here you can sleep with anyone, and I think that's special. I've learned more about sex here here than I did at home.”

“I think it's good to have both,” Mikah said. “Like Melanie says, there's no-one as good in bed as she is, at least for me. But, well, you two were pretty good as well,” he indicated Ellen and Jasmine. “I've never fucked anyone in a swimming pool before, and that was pretty fun. We should try it sometime,” he added to Melanie.

“What about you, Simon?” Jasmine asked.

Simon shrugged. “I only ever had one girlfriend at home,” he said, “and we broke up just before I came here.” In fact they had been going out for five years, since school, until time and distance caused them to drift apart. “I like the way you do things here,” he said.

“I could do with taking a leak,” said Ellen. “Where can I go?”

Melanie said, “Not in here, but anywhere else in the flat is fine. We'll clean up tomorrow morning.”

“I'll come with you,” Simon said. He followed her into the apartment's entry hall. The small space here was actually quite crowded. Most of the walls were taken up with hanging coats and shoe racks. A closed door leading to the bathroom looked like a good bet to Simon, so he peed against it, watching his piss run down the wood and puddle on the floor beneath.

Ellen, meanwhile, had lifted her skirt and was peeing over a free patch of floor space, bending her knees slightly but not enough to avoid spray. She looked at Simon and grinned.

“How are you finding the evening?” she asked.

“Good, so far,” Simon said. “The food is good.”

“It's been a bit quiet,” said Ellen, “but it'll liven up once we've finished with dinner.”

They finished up and headed back into the dining room. Ellen picked up a nearby wineglass and drank a mouthful. Mikah watched her, then cleared his throat.

“I think that was my wine,” he said.

There was a collective ooohhh around the table, and Jasmine clapped and said, “Forfeit?” There seemed to be some joke that Simon wasn't in on.

Mikah had a strange look on his face. “It's early,” he said, “I won't ask for much. How about, say, ten seconds in the pants?”

“Seems fair,” said Ellen, and -- to Simon's surprise -- she leaned across and slipped one hand down the front of Mikah's trousers. For ten seconds she stayed there, rubbing him up and down, while Mikah leant back in his chair, eyes closed, and the rest of the table laughed and wolf-whistled. Then Ellen took her hand away, and went back to her food as though nothing had happened.

“It's a forfeit,” Jasmine said to Simon. “If you drink someone else's drink -- or, you know, you don't take your turn buying the rounds, anything -- you have to do something for them in return.”

“Does everyone play this game?” Simon asked.

“If you're in Kaymala, you're playing,” said Jasmine. “But you can't be forced into anything you don't want to do. You agree the forfeit between the two of you.”

Eventually the food was finished, and the party moved back through to the living room. Simon, Camille and Mikah squeezed onto the two-seater sofa, while the others sat on armchairs.

More wine was poured. They were all starting to look look and act tipsy. The fabric around the neckline of Melanie's dress had become loose and hung open at the front, giving everyone an ample view of her cleavage and flashes of nipple every time she moved, but she either hadn't noticed or didn't seem to mind. Ellen sat on the arm of Jasmine's chair, not troubling to keep her legs closed, and Jasmine rested her hand on Ellen's lap, running her fingers up and down the skin of Ellen's upper thigh. Beside Simon, Camille leaned sleepily on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, then lowered his hand and squeezed her boob. She giggled.

The conversation continued, but slowly. Simon had the feeling that everyone was waiting for something, but he didn't know what.

At length Ellen pulled Jasmine's hand away from her dress -- the girl's fingers had just started to brush against her vagina itself -- and said, “Somebody needs to get this party going. Who wants to go first?”

“Who with who, you mean?” Mikah asked. “I'd go for a woman, but I'm spoiled for choice there. You're all beautiful.”

“Any other gender preferences?” said Ellen.

“I might try a girl,” Melanie said. “I haven't been with a girl for years.”

“Before we go any further, I might take a leak,” said Ellen. “You did say anywhere was okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Simon saw her scoot forward on the arm of her chair, pulling her dress up above her waist as she did so. She placed her feet on the floor, leaned her torso back, and pissed in a powerful arc forwards and upwards. Her stream landed squarely on the glass coffee table, the puddle quickly spreading across the table's surface and running down onto the rug below. Simon quickly leaned forward to move his wineglass out of the splash zone. With his other hand he adjusted his trousers, where things had suddenly become uncomfortably tight; two seats away on the sofa, he saw Mikah making the same adjustment.

Ellen finished up and let out a sigh. “Hope you didn't mind that,” she said to Melanie. “I really needed to go, and, well...”

She didn't say any more, but she didn't need to. Melanie was looking at her, wide-eyed and flushed, clearly turned on. Simon remembered her complaints about Mikah peeing on the window, how she had protested that she couldn't see what he enjoyed about it, and he wondered if she might not have been entirely truthful.

“Why don't you and I take this into the next room, and leave these people to sort themselves out?” Melanie said, tipping her head towards the open door to the bedroom.

“Sounds good to me,” Ellen said. She picked up her wineglass and the two women moved towards the other room.

Meanwhile, Camille was squirming beside Simon, shifting her bum back and forth on the gap between sofa cushions.

“Are you all right?” Simon asked her.

“I just need to pee as well,” she said. Simon expected her to climb out and move towards a corner, but that was not Camille's style. Instead, she just pulled her skirt out from underneath her, showing her leggings underneath, and then relaxed. There was a hissing, squirting sound, and Simon saw trickles of pee running out from the seat of her leggings and down, through the gap between the sofa cushions. A few seconds later he could hear it splashing onto the floor beneath the sofa.

On Camille's other side, Mikah seemed fascinated to watch this. “May I?” he asked, and he moved one hand to the seat of her leggings, feeling the dampness and the stream of piss still pouring into the fabric. Once his hand was there he started to rub, gently, back and forth on the little mound that was visible through the slightly transparent material. Simon heard Camille take a sharp breath in and saw her close her eyes, smiling.

Suddenly she and Mikah were kissing, his hand still on her crotch and the other at her breast, while she fumbled to undo his belt. Simon stood up quickly as Camille lay back across his seat of the sofa, her legs spread wide and Mikah on top of her.

Simon looked around the room, feeling suddenly left out. Through the open bedroom door he could see Melanie and Ellen lying top-to-tail, both of them going down on the other, and beside him Mikah and Camille were still passionately pulling at each other's clothes. The only other person in the room was Jasmine. She had crossed to the window and was looking out over the city.

“Lovely view,” Simon said as he walked over to her. This time he meant the double meaning, because both the cityscape and Jasmine were stunning. She smiled at him.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves,” she said, indicating the two on the sofa.

Simon nodded his agreement, not quite sure what to say. Jasmine turned back to the window.

“I'm going to pee on it,” she said, suddenly. “I've wanted to since we arrived. Hold this, would you?”

She handed him her wine glass, then lifted her dress up and stood square with the window.

“I've never been as good at this as Ellen is,” she said. “Could you hold my dress up for me as well?”

Simon shifted her wineglass to his other hand, and took hold of a bunch of material from her dress, doing his best to hold it out of the way. Jasmine used both hands to pull back on her skin and aim upwards, leaning back as she did so. Her pee came as a trickle at first, then suddenly with more force. It hit the window at waist height. Spray bounced out sideways and back towards Jasmine and Simon. The rest of her piss washed down the window like a waterfall, pouring away through the drain at the bottom.

“That was good,” said Jasmine once she'd finished, “thanks.”

She wiped herself on the back of her hand, then held out the same hand to take her wineglass back. But Simon didn't give it back straight away. Instead he lifted it to his lips and drank a mouthful, swallowed, and then gave the remainder to her. She raised her eyebrows.

“You owe me a forfeit, then,” she said.

Simon smiled. “What do you want me to do for it?”

“Well,” said Jasmine, “you can start by taking this dress off me, and we'll see how we go from there.”

The dress was thrown to one side, and Simon's clothes soon followed it. Simon ran his hands over Jasmine's body, exploring all of it, her soft hair, every contour of her breasts with their beady little nipples, then around to her backside -- and it was a good backside. She was doing the same to him, pulling on his cock, pinching his ass, kissing his neck and the bones in his collar. And then he was inside her, pushing and relaxing and pushing while she writhed up and down against the window, both of them panting and gasping.

Over Jasmine's shoulder Simon could see pedestrians and cars in the street below, and the lights of the apartment block across the street. He wondered if anyone was looking this way, and if so, what the view would look like.

After that, the evening became a series of fragmented memories for Simon, difficult to piece together when he looked back the next day. He vaguely remembered he and Jasmine moving to one of the armchairs, spent, leaning against each other and laughing. He remembered watching Mikah stand and Camille kneel in front of him, him pissing onto the front of her dress while she squirmed with pleasure.

At some point Melanie and Ellen had come back into the room, finished with each other and looking to switch partners. He remembered sitting in one armchair and watching Ellen and Jasmine in the other, naked and entwined together like halves of one being. And he remembered Melanie sat on the arm of his chair while he reached up her skirt, feeling around at the tops of her stockings, the bushy triangle of hair and the warm slit. Later they must have moved to the bedroom, because he had a memory of Melanie squatting over him on the bed, pissing a powerful stream that soaked him and the sheets. And he had a memory of feeling her cunt around his cock, both still wet with her pee, and of watching her boobs bounce as she slid up and down on him.

[BeneathMyWillow 840]

The next morning Simon woke up feeling like he hadn't slept, and wondering if he was still drunk. He had been woken by somebody climbing over him, and looked around to see Melanie's naked body squatting by the side of the bed.

“Sorry,” she said, “go back to sleep.”

He watched through one eye as she let out a long piss onto the tan-coloured carpet, turning a patch of it dark. Then she stood, stretched, and went out into the living room.

Simon turned over, his groggy mind coming slowly to life. The large bed had obviously been crowded overnight; even after Melanie and left, it still contained not only himself, but also Camille and Mikah. The sheets were damp and cold. Beneath the sheets, he was well and truly stood to attention, and images from last night kept flashing in front of his eyes. He wondered if he should get up, but the effort involved seemed to be beyond him.

Camille was stirring as well. Her eyes opened, and she looked slightly confused for a second, then seemed to realise where she was. She snuggled closer to him under the sheets. She was naked, he realised, and then he realised that this shouldn't have surprised him. They had never seen each other naked before, and had certainly never been this close before. He could feel her breasts against his chest, and when she moved one of her legs pressed against his cock. She gave him a sleepy smile, and whispered, “You're in a good mood this morning.”

Then she wrapped a hand around his cock and started to tug. Simon was surprised, but not at all unhappy with this. Camille's other hand was rubbing between her own legs, and -- he realised when he felt warmth spreading through the damp sheets, and heard a faint hiss -- she was peeing at the same time. Simon considered for a moment, then thought, fuck it, Camille will enjoy it. He relaxed and let his own pee come. His erection gave it pressure, and pee spurted between his body and Camille's. He had drunk a lot the night before, and he kept up a steady flow for at least a minute, soaking the two of them and the surrounding sheets. Camille leaned across and kissed him on the cheek, which he took as her way of saying thanks, and she settled back into her handjob. Before long Simon had shot his load into the sheets around them as well.

A few minutes later both of them climbed out of bed, wiping themselves clean on the sheets and leaving Mikah where he slept. They went through, still naked, into the rest of the flat.

Ellen and Jasmine were sleeping on the sofa, both naked and wrapped around each other. Jasmine's butt-cheeks were sticking up into the air, and Simon had a strong desire to feel one, but he fought it and followed Camille through to the kitchen. Here, Melanie -- wearing an apron and nothing else -- was busy over a frying pan.

“Just making some breakfast,” she said. “Go have showers if you want them, it'll be ready when you come back.”

The shower cubicle was big, so Simon and Camille went in together, taking turns to stand under the water, washing the worst of the residue of the night's activities off themselves. When they went back in the kitchen Melanie was just dishing up breakfast, and Ellen had come through, looking bleary-eyed.

“Did I smell coffee?” she asked. Melanie pointed her to a filter machine on the side, and Ellen poured herself a mug, leaning against the wall and holding the coffee under her nose. She didn't move as she peed hands-free, the stream running down her legs and pattering onto the floor. She had clearly forgotten the rule about no peeing in the dining room, but Melanie didn't seem to object.

Jasmine joined them, and the four of them plus Melanie wolfed down some breakfast. They left not long afterwards, Melanie hugging them all goodbye, and a sleepy Mikah coming through to see them off. Jasmine and Ellen hadn't bothered showering, saying that they would do once they got home, and none of them felt like putting their dirty clothes back on, so they walked naked to Ellen's car with their clothes in carrier bags.

In the elevator Simon paused to take another leak, saying that he wasn't sure he would last until they reached the hostel, and the three girls decided to join him. When they stepped out on the ground floor, a waiting elderly gentleman seemed quite taken-aback to see so many naked people on a Sunday morning; but he smiled genially at them, and watched them (with great interest) as they walked away, before stepping gingerly onto the piss-covered floor as the elevator doors closed behind him.

“So what do you think?” asked Ellen as she unlocked her car, looking at Simon and Camille. “Your first Kaymalan dinner party. Would you go to another?”

Camille and Simon both smiled. “It's very different to back home,” Simon said. “I think I prefer it this way.”

[new2this 128]

Fantastic.  Thank you.

[Fire2ninja 68]

Great story! I would have loved to have found out what happens next when they get into the car. Do the other girls find out jasmine pissed in the back seat ? Or does it remain a secret? Or does she do it again and get cought? I ask that you do please continue this part , even if it’s a small little add on story to answer what happens. Thanks for the awesome read! 

[Bacardi 10,132]

On 9/23/2018 at 9:56 AM, BeneathMyWillow said:

Oh, yes, we love it,” Melanie said. “Especially Mikah. He has his morning routine -- perhaps you can explain this to me, Simon, because it must be a male thing. Every morning he gets out of bed and makes coffee, then he carries it over to the window to drink it. Still bollock naked, mind you, and cock as high as a flagpole. Then he stands there admiring the view and he does his morning piss up the glass. Every morning it's the same. Empties his whole bladder, it's like watching a waterfall. Then he brings the coffee back to bed, grinning like a monkey

I may or may not have gotten off to this. More than once. How do I get a man to do this for me??

[nopjans 1,178]

I should very much like to attend a Kaymalan dinner party! 

[Alfresco 11,630]

These stories are great.   Thanks @BeneathMyWillow  you certainly have a good imagination and way with words.

[spywareonya 37,961]

On ‎9‎/‎26‎/‎2018 at 7:23 PM, Bacardi said:

I may or may not have gotten off to this. More than once. How do I get a man to do this for me??

I can lend you Alex for a while if you want AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Usually we are forbidden to dabble with married people but maybe we could make an exception with you ahahahaha