Thanksgiving Weekend

[holyknight3 159]

This is the first part of a story I started last year around thanksgiving, but by the time I had finished it, it was almost Christmas. Let me know if you love it and/or hate it in the comments.

 

So, first off, my name is Ashley, I'm a sophomore in college, and twenty years old. I have strawberry blonde hair, that is a little longer than shoulder length, nice firm C cup breasts, an ass I think is too skinny, but it hasn't ever stopped anyone from staring when I wear the right shorts. I have long runners legs, from years in high school doing cross country. I wasn't quite good enough to get a scholarship for cross country at my school, but I still run at least three times a week. I've thought about doing yoga, but the idea of group exercise kinda puts me off. The thing I love about running is that feeling of being free from everything, and group exercise kinda defeats the point of that. I work a few evenings at a local restaurant for extra money while working on my degree.

 

 I've been into the naughtier side of watersports since I was about twelve, when I first pissed on a stupid teddy bear I had gotten for my birthday (the surprise there was that bear turned into my FAVORITE stuffed animal shortly there after) and have been peeing where ever I think I can get away with since. I've peed on my bedroom carpet more times than I can count (usually cleaning it up afterwards so my mom wouldn't find out, but not always), washing machines and dishwashers are continual favorites. My top favorite is pissing in drink pitchers, like tea or lemonade. If my stream is diluted enough, I'll piss in those water filter pitchers, both in the reservoir and in the filter compartment. The thought of someone, anyone unknowingly drinking my piss turns me on so hard, fuck I'm getting wet just thinking about it.

 

Don't get me wrong, I've swallowed my own piss a time or three. I have a fucking fresh glass next to me as I write this. I don't have a problem drinking from my lovers either, man or woman, in fact, it's one of my favorite things to do in the world. I'm not saying that I want to spend my life being someone person's personal urinal, but I do think it is a great way to spend a weekend every now and then.  I only fucked a three different guys (and two girls) between middle school and high school, though college has been a great place to... expand my pallet, so to speak.

 

But I'm not writing this to talk about how I went home with this guy (yeah, I know, super dangerous, but I take precautions) and pissed on his living room rug and in his expensive looking fish tank (though maybe another time), this is about my Thanksgiving holiday last year.

I left my dorm room on campus(I have the fortune of have a room/suite to myself, if you were curious. Washer/dryers and kitchenette are in a common area, but my own bathroom and shower. The freshmen have communal bathrooms, with a launderette in the basement. I got my last roommate into watersports last year when she came home drunk and high, and didn't want the RA to catch her in the hallway in an ‘altered state’. More fun times.) on Friday afternoon, having the whole week of thanksgiving off for 'Fall break'. I was hoping to go somewhere fun, and had started saving money for that purpose, but early October, just before homecoming, I was told we were having a family reunion at Thanksgiving this year, and it would be at my Aunt Carla’s house. That was the worst news I had heard all year.

 

Technical speaking, I loved my aunt, more out of obligation than out of affection. She was massively into the church, nearing the point of fanaticism. It wasn't that she was devoted to her faith, but that she blindly swallowed whatever crap her preacher or other so called 'religious leaders' swallowed. She was against evolution, thought that only God could change the climate, was sure that gays were corrupting our youth, and that trans people would fondle kids in the bathroom while ignoring the snake oil salesmen she so revered doing the same thing, and all the while spouting some bullshit in defense of them. It was like saying something against a conman went against God somehow. I hope that is only a Midwestern (USA, for you international readers) thing.

 

Now, as a disclaimer, there are pictures of me out there on the internet, with choice articles of clothes missing, some of them because I put them there. The vast majority I hope. I've sold the occasional clip hear and there, cammed a time or three(not here to advertise, so don't ask), among other things I'm one thousand percent sure my aunt wouldn't approve of (though there is a sneaking part of me that one of the ministers at her megachurch secretly does, from the way he looked at me the last time I was down there). It also meant listening to my aunt basically railing against my generation as a bunch ingrates, and that we deserved to be consumed in the coming Apocalypse. The weekend also meant riding in my family car (as they saw no purpose in me wasting gas driving my own car down, and wouldn't take no for an answer) and being trapped in Bumfuck, USA at my nutcase of an aunt's house for four whole days.

 

My aunt has, more or less, a doll house. It's a gigantic, old town home, 6 bedrooms, and looks like, well, a fucking doll house. My Uncle is a dean at the local christian college (which they tried to persuade me to attend, unsuccessfully), and property values in the sticks aren't very high. My aunt, who is a full-time housewife, has a beautiful home, the kind that comes from needing to impress your peers and from having too much time on your hands. She also decorated the place to entertain in, with the big dinning room table with the chandelier, a spacious sitting room, a comfy den to watch the game in (cable television is ironically not of the devil, though she has argued before that the internet is), and a modern marvel of a kitchen. She has a spare kitchen/laundry room in the basement as well, where she does more industrial cooking (canning mostly, but I've seen her prepare a chicken or two down there as well) and the auxiliary cooking (the sweet potato casserole for one) takes place during big holiday meals such as this one. They have a guest room down here as well, if someone needed a place to stay, and all the rooms upstairs were taken.

 

The guest list for the day of Thanksgiving was going to be around 30 people, but not everyone was staying there. My grandfather, who lived with my Aunt, had a permanent bedroom. My two cousins, Matthew and Sarah, would also be there in their respective bedrooms. My mother was an only child (like me), and so these were the only cousins I had close to my age, so we were... close. Sarah hadn't left for college yet, but Matthew was a year older than I was, and was studying architecture at KU. Matt had played football in high school, and was studying at KU. His sister was a pretty little blonde senior in high school, who I would be turning 18 in a few months(ideas, ideas). She is a cheerleader in her local high school, and really hates it. We stay in touch via Skype and Facebook and whatnot. My other uncle and his wife would be staying in one of the big guest rooms on the top floor, same as my parents. He was the oldest, and his three kids were all older than I was, and all three of them would be staying with their nuclear families in nearby hotels. That left me to the guest room in the basement.

 

Being in the basement suited me just fine, there was a fairly comfy old bed, and it afforded me a measure of privacy. There was a pull out couch(some of you may call them hide-a-beds) down there that they'd used before when they had more guests, but most of my relatives were getting on in age, and would prefer to spend some money on a nice hotel room(and relative get away) then sleep on a pull-out couch. I had made the same argument, but my parents were convinced that my Aunt would be insulted if I didn't allow her to provide a place for me to stay. A paranoid part of me suspected that she wanted to keep tabs on me by keeping me at the house. I always played the part of the good little girl when ever I was there, so my Aunt Carla could never prove anything, but I know she suspected me of trying to corrupt her good little girl. Sarah, was if anything, more extreme than I was, and despite being younger, had done far more to corrupt me, for what it's worth. For all her mom’s preaching, she never really paid much attention to her children as long as they put forth this perfect image for the school and church. They learned early on what was expected of them, and toed the line all the while becoming masters of sneaking behind their mother’s back. My first time with a girl was with Sarah when I was thirteen, we got drunk together for the first time when I was fourteen, smoked weed together for the first time when I was fifteen, and had our first threesome when I was sixteen(with her brother Matt, if you were curious. She’s a superfreak, I know!) so if anything, she had corrupted me. Sarah was also the first person I shared my love of piss with (For the curious, she was the one who told her aunt to get me the bear, because she had been pissing on hers and fucking it for almost a year before I started. And she is two years younger than I am. When I asked her what gave her the idea, she told me that Mr. Bear had a stupid look on his face, that it made him look like he was begging to pissed on. The way his nose feels on your clit is awesome though, especially when it is soaked in piss.).

 

There was a decent TV in the guest room, a LAN hookup (my uncle was a bit of a technophile, and had ran Ethernet ports to all the rooms in the house. My dollar says he did it to watch porn away from my aunt who thought that watching porn was the next best thing to cheating.), an old PS3, and a desk with an office chair. I probably couldn’t of cammed from here, but I could still watch Netflix at least. The bed was about ten years old, and had a rubber sheet on under the pillow top, like all of the beds in the house. Sarah loved to piss in a bed, and would always deliberately wet the bed whenever we had to share a bed during sleepovers. When she would visit me over the summers, she would sneak into houses that were left unlocked just to piss on their beds. She never pissed in her own bed (unless she was doing her own laundry, and that was bed day. Laundry was the first chore she took up from her mother. Stacking the dishwasher was the second.) but always made a habit of pissing in the guests beds after they left. She had been doing that from before she had started doing laundry, and when I would visit there and she wasn’t there, I would always make sure to piss in my bed and my parents bed, to help throw off suspicion. Her mother never figured out what was going on, but put rubber sheets on all the beds, even theirs to be safe. There was a bathroom and shower in the basement nearby, where I could wash up if I wanted to. It wouldn’t be too bad, though I would of preferred getting drunk and stoned every night after having to deal with my family all day long, but I would do what I could.

 

Also down in the basement was the rec room, which had a well stocked bar, poker table, another big screen, a pool table and an arcade cabinet my uncle had rigged up to play just about any game made before 2005 you could think of. Sara, Matt, and I had gotten drunk a time or two down here, as our Aunt really only drank wine, and my Uncle only drank rarely so none of the booze was ever missed. Matt and I pooled our money together and replaced what we had drank when Matt turned 21. I think that was mainly because he was afraid of his mom finding out, even though she never seemed to suspect anything.

 

My family had gotten there on Tuesday, only to find out that Matt had taken Sarah to go visit a college six hundred miles away, and wouldn’t be back till the morning of Thanksgiving. I was pretty sure it was just an excuse for the two of them to fuck like rabbits (and yes, they are biological brother and sister. I’m pretty sure it was Sarah’s idea when she was about 12 or so, but after she told me she was fucking her brother, instead of being repulsed, I instead fucked Matt for the first time when I was 14. It probably helped that I had spent every moment I could fucking Sarah up to that point. I’m surprised we didn’t try a threesome before we did honestly). I was hoping that I could hide away from their aunt until thanksgiving proper with them, and then pretend to food coma in my room while I watched Doctor Who (yes, I am a nerd, but not just for my choice of television) on amazon (stupid BBC America, having a Star Trek Marathon on Doctor Who day). Instead, I got roped into helping prepare the food.

 

I’m not a domestic goddess like my Aunt Carla, I mean, I can make a few pasta dishes and a few sides, enough to feed myself if left to my own devices, but cooking isn’t a skill I had attempted to master yet. My aunt decided that my mother (who was her sister-in-law) had done me a grave disservice by not instructing me in the womanly arts, and vowed to make that right. I’ve always got the sense that my aunt didn’t like my mother, but could never really put my finger on it. Both of my parents were intellectuals after their own fashion, my mom was a graphic artist for a game company and my dad was a writer, but even after twenty some years of marriage would stay up all night talking. One time my mother drunkenly confessed to me that my father started off as a one night stand, and was just too good to leave at one night. My father, when asked, and sober, told me that he would of been an idiot to let a hot piece of ass like my mother slip through his fingers. He was going to try and get her number at least before he left, and they ended up fucking the rest of the day too. They also emphasized that what kept their relationship together was open communication and shared interests, not just shared sexual desire.  My aunt was of the opinion that the way to keep a man was to make him too fat to run away, though my uncle was in fairly decent shape for a man his age. My aunt made it her mission to pass on the old family recipes, and make sure that they would continue on for the next generation.

 

I spent Tuesday making pie crusts and brining turkeys. My aunt went with premium, free range birds, three of them. We were supposed to be smoking them on thanksgiving day, in addition to the ham she was making and the prime rib. I spent that entire evening, till my Aunt Carla went to bed, running things up and down the stairs. I was so tired, I got naked and collapsed into the bed. An hour later, my bladder reminded me of why that was a mistake. I had had a few glasses of wine with my aunt(as far as she was concerned, college was drinking age, so that was one thing going for her), and a few pops(sodas to you from the north, cokes to you from the south) as well, so my bladder was near full to bursting. I was still slightly buzzed from the wine earlier (it kinda snuck up on me) and had a good long thought about just pissing in the bed right here and now. The idea turned me on, but it would probably bother me a few hours later when I was trying to sleep. I opened my sleepy eyes, and looked around. The carpet had some possibilities, though I could probably only do it the once without having to clean it up. There was some kind of potted plant in the corner, that could do, and as I pulled the blankets off and the cold air hit me, making my nipples hard enough to cut glass, I heard the refrigerator cut on from the second kitchen. Those fucking turkeys.  I knew exactly what I was going to do.

 

Each of the birds were in their own bucket in the fridge in a salt water brine. Their was plenty of room in the buckets for me to add my own salty contribution to thanksgiving. I pulled the first turkey out, and pried the lid off, and dropped it on the floor a little louder than I had wanted to. No brine escaped the bucket, but I was startled enough that a little bit of piss escaped and pattered on the floor. With a seemingly immense amount of willpower, I clenched the floodgates closed. I took a decent half squat over the bucket and let loose. I saw my sweet urine spray all over that bird, my mostly clear piss mixing with the rest of the brine. The sheer thought of everyone eating something I had pissed on made me have to touch myself. I found myself wishing I had a video of this scene of obscene purity. My stream started to go all over the cement floor as I gave my clit the attention it was screaming for. I came way, way faster than I wanted to, with one last squirt of piss hitting the turkey. Fuck, was it cold down here, standing naked in front of the fridge with the door open. I put the lid back on the bucket, and put that turkey back in the fridge. There were still two more turkeys in there, and my aunt had harped on me to make sure I made sure each one was as close as possible to having the same ingredients, so now I had to piss in the other two.

 

Only problem, I was on empty. I hadn’t exactly been thinking about the flavor palate of the meal when I decided that the turkeys should be the target for my late night piss, but the idea of pissing on the other two birds brought a smile to my face and a tingle in my pussy. I wandered into the rec room, took a couple of shots of jack straight from the bottle, and got a Sprite out of the fridge they stored all there pop in. I saw a few of my aunt’s wine bottles down here, and briefly thought about fucking myself with it, maybe even giving my ass a little attention, but I decided to just chug the Sprite down and go back to bed, and let my bladder wake me up when it was ready.

 

It was about three am when I had to go again. This time I got my camera out of my suitcase, grabbed a shot of vodka this time from the rec room bar and grabbed another Sprite to chase it down with, and proceed to set up my camera across from the fridge. I am a film major with an art minor, so it took a little longer than I would of liked to check my light and make sure you could see everything well enough. By the time I was set up, was getting truly desperate. I started the camera, and let a little dribble out of my pussy before I opened the door. I gave a little look over my shoulder, like I was afraid someone might catch me, and carefully this time got the second turkey out and the bucket on the floor. I found myself wishing I had brought my second camera so I could catch a shot from my angle, showing everyone what I was pissing on. Oh well, one more turkey, I could get the shots I was missing from that attempt. I started pissing into the bucket containing the second turkey, playing with myself just as I had the first time. I didn’t cum quite as quickly this time, but I was several minutes shy of my usual performance. I went went to the camera, and looked at the whole scene, from first stream to orgasm, and it came in just under three minutes. Editing would probably remove that time a bit, but we would see how it went with the last shot. I got more to drink, chugged them down, and went back to bed.

 

This time when I woke up, with my camera already set up in the second kitchen, I decided to see what it would look like with a costume. I got a rather sheer nightgown out of my suitcase, one that left very little to the imagination. No bra or panties of course, I usually only wore those so that people could see me taking them off or during ‘shark week‘. I don’t like to film when I’m bloated and bleeding, I just don’t feel pretty, ok? It’s a me thing, not a you thing. I wasn't quite as desperate to go, though that familiar need to just let go was still calling to me. I got out the third bucket, took a bit of test footage (I have my camera linked to my smart watch), and decided to skip the nightgown. One, I wouldn't be able to splice the long shots together in post if I needed to, and second, and most importantly, I felt naughtier being naked. I rarely get multiple takes when I'm setting up clips, so when given the opportunity, I fall back on what I've been taught, which is don't change anything you don't absolutely have to. The change this time was a hand cam in my left hand, which I kept out of frame.

 

I tried to duplicate the pose as close as possible, but I didn't let it worry me too much. I just relaxed and watched my piss splatter all over that fucking turkey through the screen on the camera. I had stopped caring about how I looked on my wide camera shot, and just had fun with the POV cam I was using. I made sure to make a bit of a mess with my piss, spraying all over the place as I started to run out of steam. The last fifteen seconds or so I felt my orgasm building, so I was rubbing more frantically, and my piss went all over the place, with some of it ending up in the refrigerator door. Hehe, whoops! Seeing the last of my spray pooling in the bottom of the refrigerator door bin pushed me over the edge, giving me my third orgasm of the night. I stopped the camera, put the turkey back in the fridge, and closed the door, not bothering to clean up a thing. My aunt was going to make me run up and down the stairs thirty more times (in truth it was about twenty that day), so I knew she wouldn't be down here for a while, and it was plausible that it could have been spilled pickle juice or something. I licked my fingers clean, and headed to bed, waking up to the dulcet sounds of my alarm at 9:00am.

 

I had a few more adventures that week, more than I was expecting at least. Some of them pee related, some of them not. Let me know if you want to hear about them, and have a happy holidays!

[bpb 788]

I like your writing style!

[Valenta 50]

22 hours ago, holyknight3 said:

This is the first part of a story I started last year around thanksgiving, but by the time I had finished it, it was almost Christmas. Let me know if you love it and/or hate it in the comments.

 

So, first off, my name is Ashley, I'm a sophomore in college, and twenty years old. I have strawberry blonde hair, that is a little longer than shoulder length, nice firm C cup breasts, an ass I think is too skinny, but it hasn't ever stopped anyone from staring when I wear the right shorts. I have long runners legs, from years in high school doing cross country. I wasn't quite good enough to get a scholarship for cross country at my school, but I still run at least three times a week. I've thought about doing yoga, but the idea of group exercise kinda puts me off. The thing I love about running is that feeling of being free from everything, and group exercise kinda defeats the point of that. I work a few evenings at a local restaurant for extra money while working on my degree.

 

 I've been into the naughtier side of watersports since I was about twelve, when I first pissed on a stupid teddy bear I had gotten for my birthday (the surprise there was that bear turned into my FAVORITE stuffed animal shortly there after) and have been peeing where ever I think I can get away with since. I've peed on my bedroom carpet more times than I can count (usually cleaning it up afterwards so my mom wouldn't find out, but not always), washing machines and dishwashers are continual favorites. My top favorite is pissing in drink pitchers, like tea or lemonade. If my stream is diluted enough, I'll piss in those water filter pitchers, both in the reservoir and in the filter compartment. The thought of someone, anyone unknowingly drinking my piss turns me on so hard, fuck I'm getting wet just thinking about it.

 

Don't get me wrong, I've swallowed my own piss a time or three. I have a fucking fresh glass next to me as I write this. I don't have a problem drinking from my lovers either, man or woman, in fact, it's one of my favorite things to do in the world. I'm not saying that I want to spend my life being someone person's personal urinal, but I do think it is a great way to spend a weekend every now and then.  I only fucked a three different guys (and two girls) between middle school and high school, though college has been a great place to... expand my pallet, so to speak.

 

But I'm not writing this to talk about how I went home with this guy (yeah, I know, super dangerous, but I take precautions) and pissed on his living room rug and in his expensive looking fish tank (though maybe another time), this is about my Thanksgiving holiday last year.

I left my dorm room on campus(I have the fortune of have a room/suite to myself, if you were curious. Washer/dryers and kitchenette are in a common area, but my own bathroom and shower. The freshmen have communal bathrooms, with a launderette in the basement. I got my last roommate into watersports last year when she came home drunk and high, and didn't want the RA to catch her in the hallway in an ‘altered state’. More fun times.) on Friday afternoon, having the whole week of thanksgiving off for 'Fall break'. I was hoping to go somewhere fun, and had started saving money for that purpose, but early October, just before homecoming, I was told we were having a family reunion at Thanksgiving this year, and it would be at my Aunt Carla’s house. That was the worst news I had heard all year.

 

Technical speaking, I loved my aunt, more out of obligation than out of affection. She was massively into the church, nearing the point of fanaticism. It wasn't that she was devoted to her faith, but that she blindly swallowed whatever crap her preacher or other so called 'religious leaders' swallowed. She was against evolution, thought that only God could change the climate, was sure that gays were corrupting our youth, and that trans people would fondle kids in the bathroom while ignoring the snake oil salesmen she so revered doing the same thing, and all the while spouting some bullshit in defense of them. It was like saying something against a conman went against God somehow. I hope that is only a Midwestern (USA, for you international readers) thing.

 

Now, as a disclaimer, there are pictures of me out there on the internet, with choice articles of clothes missing, some of them because I put them there. The vast majority I hope. I've sold the occasional clip hear and there, cammed a time or three(not here to advertise, so don't ask), among other things I'm one thousand percent sure my aunt wouldn't approve of (though there is a sneaking part of me that one of the ministers at her megachurch secretly does, from the way he looked at me the last time I was down there). It also meant listening to my aunt basically railing against my generation as a bunch ingrates, and that we deserved to be consumed in the coming Apocalypse. The weekend also meant riding in my family car (as they saw no purpose in me wasting gas driving my own car down, and wouldn't take no for an answer) and being trapped in Bumfuck, USA at my nutcase of an aunt's house for four whole days.

 

My aunt has, more or less, a doll house. It's a gigantic, old town home, 6 bedrooms, and looks like, well, a fucking doll house. My Uncle is a dean at the local christian college (which they tried to persuade me to attend, unsuccessfully), and property values in the sticks aren't very high. My aunt, who is a full-time housewife, has a beautiful home, the kind that comes from needing to impress your peers and from having too much time on your hands. She also decorated the place to entertain in, with the big dinning room table with the chandelier, a spacious sitting room, a comfy den to watch the game in (cable television is ironically not of the devil, though she has argued before that the internet is), and a modern marvel of a kitchen. She has a spare kitchen/laundry room in the basement as well, where she does more industrial cooking (canning mostly, but I've seen her prepare a chicken or two down there as well) and the auxiliary cooking (the sweet potato casserole for one) takes place during big holiday meals such as this one. They have a guest room down here as well, if someone needed a place to stay, and all the rooms upstairs were taken.

 

The guest list for the day of Thanksgiving was going to be around 30 people, but not everyone was staying there. My grandfather, who lived with my Aunt, had a permanent bedroom. My two cousins, Matthew and Sarah, would also be there in their respective bedrooms. My mother was an only child (like me), and so these were the only cousins I had close to my age, so we were... close. Sarah hadn't left for college yet, but Matthew was a year older than I was, and was studying architecture at KU. Matt had played football in high school, and was studying at KU. His sister was a pretty little blonde senior in high school, who I would be turning 18 in a few months(ideas, ideas). She is a cheerleader in her local high school, and really hates it. We stay in touch via Skype and Facebook and whatnot. My other uncle and his wife would be staying in one of the big guest rooms on the top floor, same as my parents. He was the oldest, and his three kids were all older than I was, and all three of them would be staying with their nuclear families in nearby hotels. That left me to the guest room in the basement.

 

Being in the basement suited me just fine, there was a fairly comfy old bed, and it afforded me a measure of privacy. There was a pull out couch(some of you may call them hide-a-beds) down there that they'd used before when they had more guests, but most of my relatives were getting on in age, and would prefer to spend some money on a nice hotel room(and relative get away) then sleep on a pull-out couch. I had made the same argument, but my parents were convinced that my Aunt would be insulted if I didn't allow her to provide a place for me to stay. A paranoid part of me suspected that she wanted to keep tabs on me by keeping me at the house. I always played the part of the good little girl when ever I was there, so my Aunt Carla could never prove anything, but I know she suspected me of trying to corrupt her good little girl. Sarah, was if anything, more extreme than I was, and despite being younger, had done far more to corrupt me, for what it's worth. For all her mom’s preaching, she never really paid much attention to her children as long as they put forth this perfect image for the school and church. They learned early on what was expected of them, and toed the line all the while becoming masters of sneaking behind their mother’s back. My first time with a girl was with Sarah when I was thirteen, we got drunk together for the first time when I was fourteen, smoked weed together for the first time when I was fifteen, and had our first threesome when I was sixteen(with her brother Matt, if you were curious. She’s a superfreak, I know!) so if anything, she had corrupted me. Sarah was also the first person I shared my love of piss with (For the curious, she was the one who told her aunt to get me the bear, because she had been pissing on hers and fucking it for almost a year before I started. And she is two years younger than I am. When I asked her what gave her the idea, she told me that Mr. Bear had a stupid look on his face, that it made him look like he was begging to pissed on. The way his nose feels on your clit is awesome though, especially when it is soaked in piss.).

 

There was a decent TV in the guest room, a LAN hookup (my uncle was a bit of a technophile, and had ran Ethernet ports to all the rooms in the house. My dollar says he did it to watch porn away from my aunt who thought that watching porn was the next best thing to cheating.), an old PS3, and a desk with an office chair. I probably couldn’t of cammed from here, but I could still watch Netflix at least. The bed was about ten years old, and had a rubber sheet on under the pillow top, like all of the beds in the house. Sarah loved to piss in a bed, and would always deliberately wet the bed whenever we had to share a bed during sleepovers. When she would visit me over the summers, she would sneak into houses that were left unlocked just to piss on their beds. She never pissed in her own bed (unless she was doing her own laundry, and that was bed day. Laundry was the first chore she took up from her mother. Stacking the dishwasher was the second.) but always made a habit of pissing in the guests beds after they left. She had been doing that from before she had started doing laundry, and when I would visit there and she wasn’t there, I would always make sure to piss in my bed and my parents bed, to help throw off suspicion. Her mother never figured out what was going on, but put rubber sheets on all the beds, even theirs to be safe. There was a bathroom and shower in the basement nearby, where I could wash up if I wanted to. It wouldn’t be too bad, though I would of preferred getting drunk and stoned every night after having to deal with my family all day long, but I would do what I could.

 

Also down in the basement was the rec room, which had a well stocked bar, poker table, another big screen, a pool table and an arcade cabinet my uncle had rigged up to play just about any game made before 2005 you could think of. Sara, Matt, and I had gotten drunk a time or two down here, as our Aunt really only drank wine, and my Uncle only drank rarely so none of the booze was ever missed. Matt and I pooled our money together and replaced what we had drank when Matt turned 21. I think that was mainly because he was afraid of his mom finding out, even though she never seemed to suspect anything.

 

My family had gotten there on Tuesday, only to find out that Matt had taken Sarah to go visit a college six hundred miles away, and wouldn’t be back till the morning of Thanksgiving. I was pretty sure it was just an excuse for the two of them to fuck like rabbits (and yes, they are biological brother and sister. I’m pretty sure it was Sarah’s idea when she was about 12 or so, but after she told me she was fucking her brother, instead of being repulsed, I instead fucked Matt for the first time when I was 14. It probably helped that I had spent every moment I could fucking Sarah up to that point. I’m surprised we didn’t try a threesome before we did honestly). I was hoping that I could hide away from their aunt until thanksgiving proper with them, and then pretend to food coma in my room while I watched Doctor Who (yes, I am a nerd, but not just for my choice of television) on amazon (stupid BBC America, having a Star Trek Marathon on Doctor Who day). Instead, I got roped into helping prepare the food.

 

I’m not a domestic goddess like my Aunt Carla, I mean, I can make a few pasta dishes and a few sides, enough to feed myself if left to my own devices, but cooking isn’t a skill I had attempted to master yet. My aunt decided that my mother (who was her sister-in-law) had done me a grave disservice by not instructing me in the womanly arts, and vowed to make that right. I’ve always got the sense that my aunt didn’t like my mother, but could never really put my finger on it. Both of my parents were intellectuals after their own fashion, my mom was a graphic artist for a game company and my dad was a writer, but even after twenty some years of marriage would stay up all night talking. One time my mother drunkenly confessed to me that my father started off as a one night stand, and was just too good to leave at one night. My father, when asked, and sober, told me that he would of been an idiot to let a hot piece of ass like my mother slip through his fingers. He was going to try and get her number at least before he left, and they ended up fucking the rest of the day too. They also emphasized that what kept their relationship together was open communication and shared interests, not just shared sexual desire.  My aunt was of the opinion that the way to keep a man was to make him too fat to run away, though my uncle was in fairly decent shape for a man his age. My aunt made it her mission to pass on the old family recipes, and make sure that they would continue on for the next generation.

 

I spent Tuesday making pie crusts and brining turkeys. My aunt went with premium, free range birds, three of them. We were supposed to be smoking them on thanksgiving day, in addition to the ham she was making and the prime rib. I spent that entire evening, till my Aunt Carla went to bed, running things up and down the stairs. I was so tired, I got naked and collapsed into the bed. An hour later, my bladder reminded me of why that was a mistake. I had had a few glasses of wine with my aunt(as far as she was concerned, college was drinking age, so that was one thing going for her), and a few pops(sodas to you from the north, cokes to you from the south) as well, so my bladder was near full to bursting. I was still slightly buzzed from the wine earlier (it kinda snuck up on me) and had a good long thought about just pissing in the bed right here and now. The idea turned me on, but it would probably bother me a few hours later when I was trying to sleep. I opened my sleepy eyes, and looked around. The carpet had some possibilities, though I could probably only do it the once without having to clean it up. There was some kind of potted plant in the corner, that could do, and as I pulled the blankets off and the cold air hit me, making my nipples hard enough to cut glass, I heard the refrigerator cut on from the second kitchen. Those fucking turkeys.  I knew exactly what I was going to do.

 

Each of the birds were in their own bucket in the fridge in a salt water brine. Their was plenty of room in the buckets for me to add my own salty contribution to thanksgiving. I pulled the first turkey out, and pried the lid off, and dropped it on the floor a little louder than I had wanted to. No brine escaped the bucket, but I was startled enough that a little bit of piss escaped and pattered on the floor. With a seemingly immense amount of willpower, I clenched the floodgates closed. I took a decent half squat over the bucket and let loose. I saw my sweet urine spray all over that bird, my mostly clear piss mixing with the rest of the brine. The sheer thought of everyone eating something I had pissed on made me have to touch myself. I found myself wishing I had a video of this scene of obscene purity. My stream started to go all over the cement floor as I gave my clit the attention it was screaming for. I came way, way faster than I wanted to, with one last squirt of piss hitting the turkey. Fuck, was it cold down here, standing naked in front of the fridge with the door open. I put the lid back on the bucket, and put that turkey back in the fridge. There were still two more turkeys in there, and my aunt had harped on me to make sure I made sure each one was as close as possible to having the same ingredients, so now I had to piss in the other two.

 

Only problem, I was on empty. I hadn’t exactly been thinking about the flavor palate of the meal when I decided that the turkeys should be the target for my late night piss, but the idea of pissing on the other two birds brought a smile to my face and a tingle in my pussy. I wandered into the rec room, took a couple of shots of jack straight from the bottle, and got a Sprite out of the fridge they stored all there pop in. I saw a few of my aunt’s wine bottles down here, and briefly thought about fucking myself with it, maybe even giving my ass a little attention, but I decided to just chug the Sprite down and go back to bed, and let my bladder wake me up when it was ready.

 

It was about three am when I had to go again. This time I got my camera out of my suitcase, grabbed a shot of vodka this time from the rec room bar and grabbed another Sprite to chase it down with, and proceed to set up my camera across from the fridge. I am a film major with an art minor, so it took a little longer than I would of liked to check my light and make sure you could see everything well enough. By the time I was set up, was getting truly desperate. I started the camera, and let a little dribble out of my pussy before I opened the door. I gave a little look over my shoulder, like I was afraid someone might catch me, and carefully this time got the second turkey out and the bucket on the floor. I found myself wishing I had brought my second camera so I could catch a shot from my angle, showing everyone what I was pissing on. Oh well, one more turkey, I could get the shots I was missing from that attempt. I started pissing into the bucket containing the second turkey, playing with myself just as I had the first time. I didn’t cum quite as quickly this time, but I was several minutes shy of my usual performance. I went went to the camera, and looked at the whole scene, from first stream to orgasm, and it came in just under three minutes. Editing would probably remove that time a bit, but we would see how it went with the last shot. I got more to drink, chugged them down, and went back to bed.

 

This time when I woke up, with my camera already set up in the second kitchen, I decided to see what it would look like with a costume. I got a rather sheer nightgown out of my suitcase, one that left very little to the imagination. No bra or panties of course, I usually only wore those so that people could see me taking them off or during ‘shark week‘. I don’t like to film when I’m bloated and bleeding, I just don’t feel pretty, ok? It’s a me thing, not a you thing. I wasn't quite as desperate to go, though that familiar need to just let go was still calling to me. I got out the third bucket, took a bit of test footage (I have my camera linked to my smart watch), and decided to skip the nightgown. One, I wouldn't be able to splice the long shots together in post if I needed to, and second, and most importantly, I felt naughtier being naked. I rarely get multiple takes when I'm setting up clips, so when given the opportunity, I fall back on what I've been taught, which is don't change anything you don't absolutely have to. The change this time was a hand cam in my left hand, which I kept out of frame.

 

I tried to duplicate the pose as close as possible, but I didn't let it worry me too much. I just relaxed and watched my piss splatter all over that fucking turkey through the screen on the camera. I had stopped caring about how I looked on my wide camera shot, and just had fun with the POV cam I was using. I made sure to make a bit of a mess with my piss, spraying all over the place as I started to run out of steam. The last fifteen seconds or so I felt my orgasm building, so I was rubbing more frantically, and my piss went all over the place, with some of it ending up in the refrigerator door. Hehe, whoops! Seeing the last of my spray pooling in the bottom of the refrigerator door bin pushed me over the edge, giving me my third orgasm of the night. I stopped the camera, put the turkey back in the fridge, and closed the door, not bothering to clean up a thing. My aunt was going to make me run up and down the stairs thirty more times (in truth it was about twenty that day), so I knew she wouldn't be down here for a while, and it was plausible that it could have been spilled pickle juice or something. I licked my fingers clean, and headed to bed, waking up to the dulcet sounds of my alarm at 9:00am.

 

I had a few more adventures that week, more than I was expecting at least. Some of them pee related, some of them not. Let me know if you want to hear about them, and have a happy holidays!

I would like to hear more about that thanksgiving. Great story

[holyknight3 159]

I have the second part edited, and will try to post it tommorow. Hopefully, there won't be as many stupid grammatical errors. 

[holyknight3 159]

Thanksgiving Weekend 2

 

Hey, this is Ashley again. I hear you want to know how I spent the rest of my Thanksgiving break. I didn't film any more during the week, not having the time(or the privacy mostly) to edit.  Filming itself was impractical for several reasons, and I kinda didn't want to upload a porn clip from my Aunt Carla's house, mostly out of paranoia. I was not, however, a 'good girl'. Not that my family (outside of my cousins, but that is getting ahead of myself) knew otherwise. In front of the family, I did my best to be the model of perfection. This allowed me to have a bit more freedom than if I had been the rebellious bitch I felt like being. That was probably my cousin Sarah's survival strategy. As I saw my supposedly perfect Aunt drink more and more wine throughout the holiday, I wondered if that was her coping mechanism.

Not that I felt the slightest bit bad for my aunt, she was still a judgmental bitch who would of thrown her own daughter out on the curb if she knew that she had ever had feelings for another girl. If she knew that she regularly had sex with girls (and guys too, Sarah was bi, and would probably consider herself pan once she actually gets out into the world.) she would have a heart attack. Or drink herself to death. One of those things I had never noticed before this holiday was how much alcohol was consumed at my aunt's house. There were about four to seven women working on something or other throughout Wednesday, and my job, being the youngest and in the best shape, was to run things up and down the stairs, and to check on whatever I happened to have put in the oven downstairs, or in one of the fridges down there to chill. There were also about eight to ten men in the house, who were drinking beer and whatnot and watching whatever sports were on and chatting about times past, and who was good this year. Confession time, I don't follow the sportsball (not actually 100% true, I go to my school's football games, I do keep up with basketball, and I have several friends who run cross country for the school, so I am deeply immersed in that, I just don't care about pro sports, they practically require cable to watch, and I don't have that kind of time to spend), so I was almost as lost in that conversation as I was with the gossiping hens (my next youngest cousin was twenty-eight, and had just had her second kid not too long ago) in the kitchen. I guess the men folk were also doing something with the smoker outside, but they wouldn't be doing the turkeys until tomorrow.

This was the first time it occurred to me, that the basement was for the kids to play in during these family get togethers. I felt a little pouty about it at first, being treated like a child, but then when I realized that I had some privacy and freedom as long as I checked in every hour or so, spent ten minutes or so mingling with my relations, running something somewhere, or generally making myself useful before disappearing, no one seemed to care that I was gone. I looked over at my cousin, who was happy to have the babysitting provided by the extended family, give me a knowing look when she was sent to the store to pick up something or other that was needed, that was her task. Someone would give her a wad of cash and send her out to get whatever. She tried protesting the first few times, but she had learned a long time ago that it was far easier to play your part than to argue (Since she was still breastfeeding, she was the only one who was sober, so in retrospect, she is probably the only one who could serve as runner.).

I found myself drinking far more wine than I intended, which did help with my Aunt Carol’s bullshit somewhat. I mostly kept my mouth shut, and shrugged instead of telling her how much of a stupid hypocritical bitch she was being. She went to college in the 80s, for something more than her M.R.S., I would assume; you would think that would mean she could think for herself, but from all the bullshit she swallows you would think that she had to of fucked her way through. I can kinda see that in my mind, in a kinda detached sort of way. She is still attractive, in a severe and detached kind of way, and it wouldn't surprise me if she had some massive repression going on. She does have amazing taste in lingerie, and if I’m still a size 2 when I’m pushing fifty, I will be a happy woman. I suppose awesome blowjob skills would kind of be a prerequisite for a trophy wife, but thought of my Aunt sucking cock is just such a hard image for me to conjure up. I’ve never seen any sex toys in her bedroom, but who knows, maybe she keeps them locked up. For all I know, she is a closet lesbian, what with the way she was on about the gays ruining marriage.

Fortunately, she was content to rant at the other hens, most of whom were trying to steer the conversations to more diplomatic waters. My cousins wouldn’t be home till early tomorrow morning, leaving me completely without company my own age till then. If I kept drinking wine with my aunt, I was going to get too shitfaced to keep my tongue in check, so I had to get out of the house for a bit. I decided to go on a run.

I’ve ran all of my life. I’ve been on the track team since grade school (that is age 10 for international readers), and started running cross country during the fall in middle school (12-13), with track in the spring. I was offered a few cross country scholarships, but when I went to practice with them during visitation, the amount of work I felt I needed to even come close to competing on their level was daunting. Not so much the effort required, but the huge time commitment. It was going to be like a part time job, something around 30 hours a week. Combine that with study time, and that wouldn’t of left me with much of a social life, and so I declined their offer. It was a good thing in the end, as that freed up my choices of colleges significantly, and I ended up going somewhere that was a good four hour drive from home, and had the major I was wanting, film. I still ran three or four times a week, usually early in the morning, but not always. I have a little bag I take with me to keep my cell phone, my hand cam, a bottle of water, my Taser, and any other trinkets I might think that I need. I haven’t had to tase anyone yet, but sometimes you run into some real creeps early in the morning, and it is best to be prepared.

My kit was in my suitcase downstairs, so I excused myself from my Aunt’s latest rant on immigrants and how they were stealing people’s jobs while simultaneously living off of welfare and not contributing anything to the economy. And no, I’m fairly sure she isn’t aware of how contradictory those two viewpoints are. I just knew that if I tried keep up with her level of drinking, I was going to die, of either embarrassment or alcohol poisoning, and I wasn’t keen on finding out which.

When I go running around this time of year, I usually wear skin tight leggings, a sports bra (I like to let the girls swing free whenever I can, but running isn’t one of those times), and a long sleeve shirt of much of the same material as the leggings. First, and most importantly, I wear them because they are warm. Second, the material prevents chaffing when I run. Lastly, the moisture wicking in them keeps me from getting too sweaty, and thus cold, while providing some additional benefits, especially with the leggings, like drying out before I get back to my room if I can’t find a fun place to pee. I like to try and find a new place to piss every time I go run, but if there are too many people about, then I’ll play it safe and piss in my leggings. I know for a fact that if I don’t wear any panties with them, then I have a very noticeable camel toe. It does get my motor running to know that anyone who looked close enough could more or less see my pussy. The effect is magnified when they are wet and super clingy.

I enjoy wetting every now and then, but it’s something I need to be in the mood for. That mood strikes me more during early fall or late spring, when it isn’t too cold. I have another pair of leggings that I removed the crotch of, to allow me to wear a skirt in winter, and still pee wherever I want, but, that pair isn’t really practical for running. I wasn’t planning on wetting them today, as I would still have to go past the rest of my extended family to get to the shower in the basement. I’m not super into the embarrassment aspect. Some people enjoy it, I mean, if that is your thing, you do you.

The thing that turns me on is the thought of getting away with something naughty. I went on my run, looking for someplace new and interesting to pee in, and where maybe I could get myself off. I had planned my route through the Christian college that my Uncle was a dean at, through a neighborhood, into the local park, and then running by some of the local stores, and then back through suburbia to my Aunt’s house. I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but I would know it when I saw it. My worst case scenario was pissing all over the floor in the park’s restroom, but that was only if I was super desperate when I got to the park. Not that it wouldn’t of been a lot of fun, but I’ve peed on the floor of that particular park’s restroom(both men and women’s) at least half a dozen times with Sarah, not to mention the sinks, all over the stalls, and in the trash cans. I still enjoy pissing all over the toilet paper dispensers (my favorite target on a road trip), soaking all of the paper inside, and a part of me was tempted to do so, if only for old time’s sake.

No, my first stop was going to be the university. The dorms would be closed for thanksgiving vacation, as would the library and the student union. I had been tempted to steal the magnetic fob off of my Uncle’s keys. That should get me just about anywhere in the university, but I was worried that there might be alarms or something that would alert my Uncle. It might be paranoia, but the last thing I needed for Christmas was a charge for breaking and entering. Still, I was hoping something might be unlocked for me to sneak into, but I didn’t have any luck. I was thinking about pissing on their great seal in the quad, but it was too exposed, and I couldn’t be sure no one was watching me.

I instead continued my run through a neighborhood, looking for unlocked cars, or an open garage. There were several houses that were empty due to being away for the holidays, but I was a little hesitant to start searching for keys under rocks and doormats. I could of tried some of the garage door opener frequencies if I had thought to have brought the gadget, but it slipped my mind. I did cut through someone’s back yard on the way to the park when I spotted a bird bath. It wasn’t running, and I wasn’t terribly desperate yet, but I decided I didn’t want to piss anywhere in the park today. I stood next to the empty bird bath, brought my leggings down to my ankles, and peed into (and all over) it for a good thirty seconds. My bladder wasn’t quite empty, but I cut my stream off short, not wanting to waste all of my piss on the birds. I shook my pussy lips a bit, flicked off any loose drops of pee off of my fingers, and pulled my leggings back up. I took another half minute to admire my handy work, while I drank my bottle of water and decided that where ever I piss next, I wanted to take my leggings all the way off. It being in the low 40’s (on the Fahrenheit scale, maybe about 4 or 5 degrees Celsius?), my preference was going to be for somewhere indoors.

Just stopping there for a minute was making my ass cold, so I resumed my run. I ran through the park, and through the town. Most of the shops were closed at noon for the holiday, which left the main strip nearly deserted. I decided I would go through the alley, instead of down the main street. This gave me cover from any nosy drivers who went by, and allowed me to check the back doors of most of the shops. I expected them to be locked, but in a small town like this, you never really know until you try. I got lucky at one of the stores, a bridal boutique. As soon as that door opened, my pussy began to tingle. The office in the back was completely unlocked, but all of the actual business documents seemed to be locked away, though that didn’t bother me one bit. When I got to the main showroom, and saw all of the dresses, my heart leapt, and my pussy ached. I couldn’t wait to completely piss all over those delicate white gowns. No lie, my big fantasy for my wedding is for all of my bridesmaids and all of the groomsman and my new husband to absolutely soak me and my wedding dress in piss before they all fuck me and then each other in an absolute orgy of piss and formal wear.

They also had a section for formal wear dresses, like for prom and whatnot. I had made sure that all of my prom dresses were already stained with piss and cum (as a rule, during the only time they were worn) at the bottom of my hope chest, but it was always nice to rub my pussy on the soft materials. Oh, the dilemma. One part of me wanted to pee a little bit on every single dress in the store, and then fuck myself silly in a pool of my own piss in the most expensive dress I can find. The other part of me didn’t want to ruin the livelihood of a small business owner, and knew I shouldn’t pee on any of the dresses. I also knew I wasn’t going to listen to that good little voice. Had Sarah been there, she could have probably found the wedding dress or prom dress of someone she hated, and would of ruined that as a compromise. I settled on finding the ugliest dress I could find, figuring that it wouldn’t sell anyways. I was also going to find something to fuck myself with, while wearing the prettiest dress I could find, and if it got wet in the process, oh well. Before I did any of that, I stripped out of my exercise gear. I debated filming my exploits, but decided that if I ever got caught, the last thing I wanted was video evidence of my activities.

I set to the task of finding the dresses, which finding the worst turned out to be the hardest part.  Most of the gowns were at the very least, elegant, though some were absolutely stunning. I found my fuck me dress rather quickly, as it was one of the few that wasn’t full length. (I have great legs, and I love to show them off, sue me. I only get a few short years to look this great, and I’m going to enjoy them.) During my search, I found the little dressing room/ model for your friend’s area. One of its features was a water jug, and I knew what was going to do. These places sometimes had champagne for those buying dresses and their bridal party. I’m sure the alcohol lessened some bride’s anxieties, and also made them more willing to accept the thousand dollar sticker prices. I found the rack they keep the bubbly on back in the employee break room area. They used disposable plastic flutes, which makes some sense, but seems kinda cheap to me. It wasn’t terribly expensive champagne, but I was tempted to open a bottle. I had had at least six glasses of fairly decent wine since breakfast/brunch, which was at like 10. It was only 2 in the afternoon right now. I figured, fuck it, it’s a holiday. If I get wasted in some stupid closed bridal boutique in the middle of bumfucked nowhere, then so be it.

My only real wish was that I had a little bit of weed with me, but all paraphernalia and any actual drugs were left in my dorm room, along with my personal collection of sex toys, just in case my Aunt decided to be ‘helpful’ and put away some of my laundry. That was how she had found my birth control pills when I was 14. (They were for an ovarian cyst, but that didn’t stop her from accusing me of consorting with all manner of unsavory gentleman. The irony is that I was still a virgin at the time of her accusation, but that was, in hindsight, one of the things that made me want to hook up with Matt.) I’d been super careful not to bring anything to her house that might challenge her idea of me as a good little girl, and had made a game of fucking myself with as many things around her house that she might use that I could get away with. Things she would put her mouth on, I tried to put in my ass if at all possible.

I decided that the champagne bottle would make a decent fuck toy after it was at least opened, but I had some other business to attend to first. My water bottle needed a refill, so I filled that up at the water jug. Then I took the water jug off of the top, pushed open the little valve, got my pussy so close the stem was practically inserted inside me, and pissed mostly into the water jug. My stream lasted for a good 45 seconds, and I was amazed at how much I was able to release after my earlier adventure with the bird bath. When I was done, I released the valve, and rubbed my pussy and clit on the stem of the jug. I thought about trying to take the whole stem inside me, but it was a bit too wide. (Confession, I am not a size queen. If a guy has a big dick, good for him, but I’m not going to turn down a guy because he only has a four inch cock. I’m not that big of a girl down there. I know my kitty can stretch, but that isn’t something I’m all that into.) I settled for licking my juices off of it, and putting it back into its socket on the base. I then slowly drained my water bottle while I humped the arm of one of the chairs, trying to keep myself from going over the edge of orgasm just yet. When my water bottle was empty, I refilled it once again from the water jug, this time tasting just the slightest hint that something was off. Perfect. I almost came the moment I tasted my own piss in the water.

My bladder was going to need a bit of time to recharge after that, so I resumed my search for the ugliest dress, all the while drinking champagne straight from the bottle and lightly rubbing my clit off and on. I decided that there were quite a few dresses I didn’t necessarily like, but none of them were drop dead hideous ugly. I decided instead to find the one that would be the most fun to piss all over. I choose one that had a lot of intricate lace detailing, and had a full torso, no plunging neckline or boob window on this dress. It was pretty and all, but way too conservative. I’m honestly surprised it didn’t have the huge puffy sleeves that used to be all the rage. It was on a display mannequin, so I set the whole thing on the floor. Before I set to work on the dress, I slipped into the little fuck me number I had found earlier (I think it might have been a white prom dress, not an actual wedding dress, but I didn’t care). When I got it on, it was much shorter than I anticipated, and it barely covered my tits. It was perfect for what I wanted to do in it. I lifted the hem of the dress a little ways as I ground my pussy into the fabric of the dress, feeling the texture of the lace on my lips and clit. If I had my strapon with me, I would of loved to have rode that dress like a cowboy, but the closest thing I had was a nearly empty champagne bottle. The mannequin did have legs, but they weren’t really movable, so I couldn’t grind on the knee. I settled for standing up, and unleashing a full torrent of piss all over that dress and its train. Seeing the fabric turn dark with my piss was such a huge turn on, I couldn’t not rub my clit. This caused my stream to spray all over the place, and onto the skirts of more than a few dresses. I wasn’t nearly empty, but I had been holding off my own orgasm for far too long, that I needed to cum soo badly. There was a little champagne left in the bottle, but it had gone warm, and I didn’t care. I gently inserted the neck of the bottle into my delicate little pussy. Slowly, so slowly at first, I was feeling every inch of the glass and the little bulge at the mouth of the bottle, feeling it inside me. I couldn’t hold back my long overdue orgasm much longer, and as I took the length of the neck, I released a burst of piss all over the hem of the dress I was wearing and over the ruined gown on the floor. I started fucking the bottle harder and faster, bursts of pee squirting out all over the dress, waves of champagne tingling as they splashed against my cervix, my head swimming with the warm buzz of the alcohol and my swelling lust. A primal scream escaped from my lips as a spray of piss exploded over the delicate woven lace on the bodice of the dress. The wave of euphoria consumed me as I slowly fucked that bottle, each stroke a symphony of ecstasy almost too painful to bear. My bladder wasn’t quite empty, and I felt the desperate need to finish, that I could no longer stave it off. I removed the bottle from my pussy, bringing with it a new shudder of orgasm, and placed the mouth as close as I could to my pee hole. Hot piss sprayed all over the remnants of the once beautiful gown, but more went into the spent bottle of champagne.

 The bottle was filled up almost a quarter of the way before I was spent. A small part of my drunk brain knew that was because the alcohol was dehydrating me, the rest of my brain wanted to feel that warm wet liquid all over that silky dress and my naked tits, and it was that part of my brain I enthusiastically indulged. I took a couple swallows of the piss/champagne cocktail, before pouring the rest all over my eager body. I would of loved to have soaked my hair in my piss as well, but I wasn’t confident that it would have dried before I got back to my Aunt’s house. I instead settled for massaging my wet tits through the soaked fabric. One orgasm was definitely not going to hold me for the rest of the day, that was for sure. I started sucking on the piss and girl-cum covered neck of the champagne bottle, making sure to get it as wet and slick as I could. With my free hand, I unzipped the dress I was wearing, letting it fall to the ground in a wet heap.

I went to my knees, and started sucking on the champagne bottle like it was the best cock in the whole world. Now, I love to suck dick, don’t get me wrong. I like to suck dick almost as much as I like having my pussy eaten. My list probably goes something like being fucked (vaginal then anal), being eaten out, sucking dick, being pissed on, pissing on someone, pissing on something I’m not supposed to, if you were curious. But a glass bottle isn’t a dick, no matter how I’m using it. The fact of the matter was, I didn’t really have any other lube, so a little bit (or a lot) would have to do. I spit on my hand, and rubbed the slickness into my rosebud. Somewhere on that list should go having my asshole licked, by the way. I relaxed just as the warm glass entered my ass me from below. I stood up a little bit (I’ve ridden a guys dick porn star style, and that is mostly for his benefit. It really kills the thighs, and while I run, even my endurance isn’t unlimited) so I could properly fuck my ass with the bottle. I started to build a good rhythm, getting the bottle deeper and deeper before I started rubbing my clit. Now, I have, a handful of times, actually orgasmed from anal alone. Most people don’t believe me when I tell them that, and I don’t know if my boyfriend at the time (second guy I ever slept with) just did an amazing job of getting my head where it needed to be, or what. I’ve liked anal play almost since I started masturbating. The idea that it was dirty turned me on the most in the beginning, and it went from there. (If you are curious, I did try some scat play, but it didn’t really do anything for me.) Now, I don’t feel like I’ve been properly fucked until the guy has came in my pussy, ass, and mouth(which, to be fair, is a tall order for most guys to take care of in one night).

I was done with edge play, now that I had came once already. I put a finger inside me for a little bit of penetration as I rubbed my clit for all that it was worth. I looked around, at the soaked dresses and mannequins, and the utter mess that I had made, and I felt my orgasm build. My bladder was just starting to fill up, and I didn’t feel the need to add to the pool I had already made on the carpet of this store. I wanted to pee one more time before I left, and the thought of that brought me to a new orgasm. This one was almost as intense, and I was hypersensitive in the afterglow with my clit felt just a little bit raw.

I headed over to the water jug, refilled my bottle again, and drank it all down. I was still rather buzzed from the bottle of champagne, but I didn’t want to end up hungover on thanksgiving, so I chugged another bottle of the water. The slight hint of my piss in it gave me good tingles all over as my bladder started to make me aware again of its needs. I decided to throw the dresses that I had ruined in the garbage of another business, mostly so they will think they were stolen, and be able to get the insurance money from them. By the time I had the soaked dresses disposed of, the need in my bladder was starting to become pressing. I had debated pissing into one of their computers, or their cash register (I was really tempted by that one), or their dainty little restroom that was for staff use only. I could of pissed on the boss ladies office chair (not that it would of done a lot of good, as it was leather) or on her desk. I decided instead to piss in the ice machine in the break room where they kept the champagne.

The water jug I had earlier peed in didn’t chill the water, so I was willing to bet that they would put whatever they drank on ice. The fact that there were cups and a half full case of diet pop in the same breakroom added fuel to the fire. A part of me understood not having an employee fridge, as the store shutdown at lunch for an hour, and closed at 5. It was a small enough town that you could legitimately drive home for lunch and be back to work, especially with as small of a staff as they probably had. The ice machine made sense, because they would put the champagne on ice in a bucket, so they needed that. If you brought your lunch, you could ice your drinks, or what not. They probably drank coffee in the morning (as evidenced by the Keurig on the small counter), but not a lot of it. I figured that between the water jug and the ice machine, I would be making sure just about everyone who passed through here would be drinking a little of my piss for at least the next month.

The ice machine had a filter on the main pipe which fed into a water storage tank. The filtered water was drawn from that into a condenser, and then made into ice. I thought of just peeing all over the ice itself, but that wouldn’t get quite the same saturation. I had to look things over carefully, but I found the self clean on the ice would drain the ice and then refreeze new ice. The store wouldn’t be open again until Saturday, and by then the system should of refilled itself. Now, I just had to figure out how to bypass the filter. My first thought was to take out the filter and then just piss in the pipe, but that would have been nearly impossible, as the pipe was only a quarter of an inch, and the filter was in the back of the machine, next to the wall, and about 6 feet off the ground. There was a far simpler solution it turns out. The storage tank itself had a lid that was secured with one big screw, for whatever reason. That was only four feet off the ground, and I could climb up there and actually sit on the ledge, and pee inside it like it was my own personal toilet. The tinkling sound reminded me of peeing in a toilet properly, or more accurately, peeing in the reservoir (my personal choice of naughty place to pee of last resort.) Almost a minute later, I was done, and had assembled the lid. I redressed in my running clothes and headed back for my Aunt’s. I’d been gone for the better part of two hours, but they hadn’t seemed to miss me. I ping ponged back and forth for the rest of the day, before finally being left to my own devices at about seven. I played a few games before heading to bed at the uncharacteristically early 11:30 pm, eagerly awaiting the return of my cousins the next day.

[Valenta 50]

If there is more i would love to read it. Keep up the good work.

[holyknight3 159]

That is what I have done so far. I don't expect to have the third part finished till December.

[Valenta 50]

If it is as good as the other 2 where then it will be worth it to wait till december

[wetwulf 3,322]

On 11/24/2018 at 7:25 PM, Valenta said:

If it is as good as the other 2 where then it will be worth it to wait till december

I agree!

[holyknight3 159]

It is a little early, hopefully, my haste in editing didn't let through too many typos and errors.

Thanksgiving weekend 3

 

Now, I have to warn you, this next part does contain brother/sister, not just cousin incest. Ironically, where I live (the US), all of this is legal, depending on the state. There are some backwards ass states in the south.

 I remember having a particularly sexy dream, where a gorgeous blonde woman and a handsome dark haired man were taking turns licking my pussy. Apparently in my dream world there had been some argument about who ate pussy better. I’ve heard lots of lesbians say that a woman knows what a woman wants, and I’m sure if you only want women, that’s probably true. Honestly, blindfolded I have never been able to tell the difference, and neither have any of my friends. Different people are better at it than others, that much is true, but both eat pussy just as well. The same goes for sucking dick, when it comes down to it. I don’t know if a man’s ass feels different from a woman’s ass, I don’t have the right tools to make a comparison. I will tell you that if two people want to argue about who licks pussy better; I am always happy to be the judge.

The pressing need in my bladder started to bring me out of my dream, but the sensation of having my pussy eaten remained. I was still in a bit of a dream haze, and was more than happy to lie there half awake while my pussy was eaten. I felt a finger being inserted inside me, gently stroking the walls of vaj, bringing me closer to the edge. A second finger was slid into my sopping pussy as my hips ground into the unknown face. Out of nowhere, a hot blast of liquid hit the top of my head, soaking my hair, and dripping into my face. I instinctually opened my eyes, and saw Sarah’s neatly shaved pussy pissing all over my head, and aiming for my mouth. I did what every good girl should do in that situation, I opened my mouth and closed my eyes. I was rewarded with a warm stream of girl piss in my mouth as I was brought to orgasm by (I assumed at this point) Matt’s mouth and fingers. I put my hands on the head that was eating me out, feeling a short and manlyish haircut, and pulled him in closer. It was possible that Sarah had brought home a very butch girlfriend for Thanksgiving, but I was betting it was her brother, clean shaven as usual.

 Sarah’s stream died out, and I risked a peak downwards. Matt’s eyes looked up at me as I let go of him after I came, my first of hopefully many organisms today. Sarah let go of the last bit of her piss, aiming for my eyes. She got a little bit in there, causing me to blink a bit. Sarah laughed at my predicament as her stream finally petered out. I reached up to grab her down on to my face, causing her to lose her balance and plant her knees firmly on my shoulder blades. I saw that she was fully dressed in a nice dress, and that she had chosen to omit underwear of any kind, which was not an unusual choice for Sarah. Her pussy was now only inches from my face, and I reached my tongue out to give her a tentative lick. Her skirt completely covered my head, as she struggled to regain her balance.

 “OOF! You’re getting my skirt wet!” Sarah said as she bunched her skirt up around her waist, while resettling her hips so she could position her clit right over my mouth.

 “You shouldn’t of pissed on my head then if you didn’t want to get wet!” I told her as I started to lick her cunt. Her brother came along beside her and helped her lift her dress over her head, hanging it over the nearby computer chair. He stripped out of his sweater and khakis, folding those neatly into the chair, leaving him completely naked as well. Both Sarah and Matt were blonde, and both were very trim. Matt looked as if he was chiseled from marble, with neatly trimmed blonde body hair. Sarah was also trim, with the softest of definition to her muscles, and firm B-cup breasts. The only body hair she sported was her eyebrows, with her legs smooth and toned, and her pussy completely bare. I liked to sport just a little red landing strip, so people would know that the carpet did in fact match the drapes.

I focused my attention on Sarah’s pussy, licking all the drops of piss off of it before really focusing on her clit. Matt took this opportunity to fill my snatch with his bare cock. I love the feeling of a raw dick inside me. Nothing that I’ve found beats that feeling (which is why I could never swear off of men. Women I could swear off of, but only if I married a complete asshole, but then why would I be marrying an asshole who didn’t want his wife to share her girlfriends with him?) but it isn’t something I get every day, or even every month.

 Truth be told, yes I could probably fuck a different guy every night if I wanted to (I don’t, for a variety of reasons), and I have gone out with a guy just too hook up before, and I fully expect to do so in the future. They all had to wear their raincoat, or they didn’t get to play. I’m not saying I haven’t sucked a dick or two or literally almost all of them without a condom, and yes, I realize there are risks involved with that too. There are risks involved with drinking too, and I still do that. I’m not saying I haven’t sucked on a dildo a time or two, or a banana, or a hot dog, or some other phallic shape, but that has almost always been aimed at having an influence on an actual cock somewhere. None of those things are as much fun as actually sucking a dick, and if I wanted to suck on some rubber, I would. The opposite of that general theory applies downstairs, because the risks are too stupidly high for what usually ends up being just a cheap thrill. The only time a guy gets to ride bareback is if we went to the clinic together to get tested. I’ve had long term boyfriends who weren’t willing to do that (I’ll leave you to guess why we broke up), and I’ve had regular fuckbuddies who I visit the clinic on campus with every few months (those guys usually end up with long term girl friends, and one guy got married...). Afterwards, you can cum in any hole you want. Three-quarters of the time, I am giving the man road head on the way back to where ever we decide to fuck. The other quarter of the time we just fuck in the parking lot (though once, I did it in the clinic’s bathroom.)

One of the few people who had an exemption to this rule was Matt. I trusted him more than just about any man in my life outside my own dad (who I am not fucking), and I knew he had a similar philosophy he stuck with, as did Sarah. So if he wanted to fuck me bareback, I was super happy to let him. There was a part of me that was hoping he would fuck my ass, and then have Sarah suck him off before going back to work on me, but he was fucking me with a purpose. Sarah was also suspiciously close to an orgasm of her own. Despite my (or perhaps because of) morning bladder being full, I was close to cumming again, and since my sheets had already gotten wet thanks to a certain blonde girl who shall remain nameless, I saw no point in holding my bladder any longer than I wanted to. A few bursts of piss escaped while Matt was fucking me, but it’s harder (for me at least) to start peeing while I’m being actively pounded.

 I focused on Sarah, sliding two fingers into her wet snatch, wetting my other two fingers on her juices, and then slipping them into her ass, in a maneuver some may know as “The Spock”. Why it surprised her, I’m not certain; I have done it to her literally dozens of times. She also gets a shocked look on her face when Matt takes her in the ass too, so maybe she just doesn't advertise to anyone else that the backdoor is open. She loves to have her ass filled almost as much as I do though, if the way it makes her scream in pleasure is anything to go by. Both of us like to have both holes filled, if at all possible, and usually when I’m here, that involves at least one strapon (Matt wore one of the strapons so he could double stuff Sarah while I fucked her ass. Results were mixed, and I didn’t want to try it). I could tell that she was trying to hold off cumming as long as possible, so of course I went harder and faster. Matt was near his own orgasm as well, if his panting was anything to go by. Matt pulled Sarah’s hair (she loves it, nothing brings me out of the mood more than having my hair pulled), driving her over the edge, with her screaming in ecstasy and squirting all over my face. Watching Sarah cum drove Matt over the edge, as he shot his load inside me. Feeling him cum inside me pushed me over the edge for my second orgasm in about five minutes (my favorite part of being a girl).

 When I came, the last thing holding my bladder in check, namely Matt’s cock, was removed, and a high pressure burst of piss shot out all over Matt’s dick and stomach, along with a decent amount of cum. Sarah crawled off of me, and started to lick the piss and cum off of Matt’s abs and chest, causing her to get hit in the head by my next stream, and soaking her hair and face in the process. I was a little afraid she was going to get pissed, so I stopped my stream midflow, but she loves to have her hair peed on. Instead, she turns her head so I can get the rest of her hair with my next blast, which turned into a good thirty second stream. She completely soaks the rest of her hair, and gets quite a few mouthfulls of my piss straight from the source. Matt was content to have his dick and his chest peed all over while his sister drank my piss from his belly button. Sarah dug the last bit of cum out of my pussy with her tongue, and we shared a wet kiss between us.

“God, I missed you!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Happy thanksgiving,” Matt said sleepily.

 “Fuck, what time is it?” I said, looking out the little basement windows and seeing only dark.

 “5:30 in the morning. We just got in about fifteen minutes ago,” Matt replied.

 “Did you guys drive all night?” I said, as I felt the tired coming back to me as the adrenaline wore off.

 “We took a nap at about 7 yesterday, woke up around 11 last night, and drove all night,” he said.

“We did stop and get what, breakfast?” Sarah chimed in, moving to come snuggle next to me in the thoroughly soaked bed, “Supper? A meal of some sort. We took turns driving and sleeping.”

 “Where did you visit?” I asked.

 “University of Wisconsin, Madison.” Sarah replied.

 “What did you think?”

 “It was too cold.”

 “That isn’t a reason to turn down a scholarship, especially at a school that has the major you want,” Matt interjected.

 “It’s too cold, and I don’t want to do cheerleading in college. I don’t care if they were going to pay for everything.”

 “Sarah,” Matt said chidingly.

“Let’s not talk about it right now. I don’t want to go freeze my tits off. Had they been below the Arctic Circle, I might of thought about wearing a short skirt and shaking my ass for them.”

 That got us all to laugh. A timer went off in the nearby kitchen. “What’s that for?” I asked.

“Oh, I put in the cinnamon rolls Mom made for breakfast in when we came down here. I’ll go pull them out while you two strip the bed,” Sarah said, drying herself off a bit with a section of dry sheets.

 “It’s 5:30 in the morning. On a holiday. I didn’t want to get up before 10. 11 if I could,” I told Matt.

 “Mom will be down here in less than half an hour, to start heating sides and doing final meal prep. We didn’t want to wait until after dinner,” he explained while peeling the top sheet and blankets off.

 I got up and helped him with the fitted sheet, and threw my clothes from yesterday and my workout gear into the nearby laundry basket. Matt scooped up Sarah’s dress, and I carried the laundry basket to the utility room, which is where their laundry chute deposited their dirty clothes. It was also where the spare oven and refrigerator were, alongside a very modern washer and dryer set. The smell was divine, with the scent of cinnamon and sex in the air. Sarah was vision of loveliness, standing naked by the stove, glazing the rolls while they were still hot. I put the laundry in the washing machine, a top loader, if you were curious, while Matt took the dress to his sister, and gave her a light kiss on the side of her neck. We were all still naked and wet, and for at least my part, a little cold. None of that seemed to bother those two, they just seemed to be happy to feel one another.

 “Here is your dress,” Matt said as he handed Sarah the partially ruined garment. “Put it on.”

Sarah got a smirk in her eye as she put the dress on. There was a nice big wet stain on the bottom of the skirt, but for the most part it was dry. Now that I looked closely, there were a few questionable stains around the collar, but that could have been attributed to food if you didn’t know the wearer better. She got on her knees in front of Matt, and flashed him her most impish smile. He took his cock in his hands and aimed at her chest. A stream of piss hit her square in the chest, making the material translucent and perfectly highlighting her perky breasts. Matt adjusted his aim, hitting Sarah straight in the face. She quickly adjusted by opening her mouth, and swallowing huge mouthfuls of piss. While she was swallowing her brother’s spray, Sarah was busy massaging the spent piss into her soaked tits.

 Part of me wanted to give Matt a hand, but I figured there would be enough time for that later. I decided that Sarah needed my help more. I went and kneeled on the cold concrete behind me, with some mild protestations from my naked knees. My hands went to Sarah’s breasts, and I helped knead the warm urine into them with one hand, as my other hand went between her legs, searching for her wet pussy. Matt followed my hand with his stream, and soaked the rest of the skirt, before he cut off his stream mid flow. Sarah turned her head and kissed my lips, before stretching out before me on her forearms, putting her ass in the air. I moved to one side of her, and Matt took the other side, and spent the rest of his piss covering her back and her hair. I was fucking her with one hand, and rubbing her clit with the other. She didn’t cum in quite record time, but it was close. Matt and I held her for a few seconds afterwards, and then she stripped out of the dress and threw it in the washing machine.

 “Take the cinnamon rolls upstairs, let Mom know that I got Ashley up, and that I’m taking a shower down here so I don’t wake anyone else up. That should keep her upstairs for at least another hour,” Sarah told her brother. I looked at the clock, it was almost 6. Sarah motioned to me, “Come on, we need to get in the shower.” Matt got dressed quickly, and headed up the stairs with the rolls, while Sarah and I headed for the shower.

 The downstairs had one and a half bathrooms downstairs. The one connected to the bedroom was a very nice full bath. The half bath (that is a bathroom with just a toilet and a sink) was attached to the rec room. Not surprisingly, the three of us very rarely used that one. The full shower they had in this bathroom, we used quite a bit. Whenever we were fooling around, someone would get peed on most of the time. Matt and Sarah kept a couple sets of clothes down here for such occasions, and while they did have a full bathroom (which they shared between their two bedrooms) using it would raise the awkward question of why they were taking a shower in the middle of the afternoon. Aunt Carla rarely came down to the basement if she didn’t have to. The rec room held little interest for her, her kitchen equipment was for the most part upstairs in the kitchen. She had a few gadgets stored down here for when she needed them, but she usually sent one of the kids down here. And if she needed something, when one of the kids was down here, she would use the intercom(yes, they really did have an intercoms in their house. No, that is not a common feature, but it was installed in the days before cellphones, and my aunt wasn’t big on texting) to page them. We all learned that if we wanted to get away with something, then the basement was the place to do it. The whole, out of sight, out of mind thing.

 Holidays was one of the times that the sanctuary of the basement could not be counted on, especially on the day of Thanksgiving. If Aunt Carla had a runner, she would be using them, but some things were too important to leave to someone else, but not important enough to be on the main stage of the main kitchen. She trusted Sarah enough to take care of those tertiary things, but if Sarah wasn’t up there, then she would do whatever it was (green bean casserole in this case probably) herself. Which would lead to her seeing a giant puddle of piss in the middle of the utility room, and pee-soaked sheets and clothes in the washer. At the very least, Sarah and I would be caught, with a good chance of Matt being implicated as well, as he brought up the cinnamon rolls. The good news was that the downstairs oven probably wasn’t going to be needed until 10, and if Aunt Carla could save herself a trip on the stairs by paging Sarah on the intercom she would. As long as Sarah made an appearance before her aunt by 7, we should be good, as the drains in the utility room would take care of most of the clean up. We just couldn’t take too long in the shower.

 We stopped by the rec room for a shot of vodka each, and a bottle of water. We both chugged our water down and headed to the shower. Now, if you have never taken a shower with another person, then there are some things you should know. First, most showers are kinda cramped, which can be fun in their own way, but a pain in the ass for actually getting clean. When my aunt and uncle remodeled their house (sometime in the late 90’s I think), they made sure that all of the showers were palatial. I have showered in locker rooms smaller than the main bathroom’s shower on the second floor (not really, but you could fit four people in there without anyone touching). Matt and Sarah’s showers and the basement showers were both the same size, big enough for two people to lie down in the whirlpool bath while something like four shower heads massaged you from different angles. It was one of my favorite features of the house. I’m pretty sure they lost a guest room or two in the remodel to put all the bathrooms in. I don’t know if Aunt Carla had planned to have more kids, or if they just wanted to be able to host a baseball team comfortably. I do know that she enjoyed her showers, and that her daughter had inherited that trait honestly. Both my aunt and Sarah could spend hours languishing in the shower if time allowed, which is probably why my aunt never blinked an eye at her daughter showering down here. She probably saw it as Sarah’s concession to diplomacy with her brother, who had been known to take long showers himself. Her Aunt was not aware of how often the two had showered together, and no one wanted her to know.

 This meant that I got to shower with Sarah, without my aunt getting suspicious. All of us had showered with other women before, in the course of sports and whatnot, and the fact that even with Sarah in the shower, I still had more room in there than I did when I lived in the dorms. We headed to the showers at about 6:10 am, almost four hours before I wanted to get up. I had gone to bed at 11 at least, so I wasn’t dead tired. Sarah always seemed to be pulsing with energy, which I kinda envied (turns out she was taking adderall on the side, which helped her stay thin and awake, if you didn’t mind the fact that they were prescription amphetamines. Not that I hadn’t taken them once or twice for a particularly brutal final or two) and admired. We would all be taking a nap this afternoon, that was for sure, so we might as well enjoy the time we were awake.

 There was less hanky-panky going on in the shower than you might of expected for two rather sexually aggressive women. Sarah’s major request was that we hold off on peeing till we were out of the shower, which was kinda odd to me, but was no big deal. I’ve peed in the shower for as long as I can remember taking showers, but I can hold it if need be. I didn’t really need to go, most of my bladder ended up on Matt’s cock and his stomach, and I was in the process of washing her’s out of my hair. I wasn’t a huge fan of holding myself, but I would be a liar if I told you I hadn’t held it a time or two just to see how much I could hold. I’d never seen Sarah into desperation play either, but people try new things, and I was game if she was. At least I thought that was her play at the time. We did have some light fondling going on, and we were slapping each other’s asses maybe a little bit too hard, but it felt more like sexually tinged horseplay (thought there is an argument that is foreplay in and of itself) than anything else. And of course, we did the soapy boob rub thing, how could we not, but the main thing we did was get clean and dry off.

 As we were drying off, I asked, “So, have you given any more thought about going to Central?”

 “Honestly, it’s either there or KU. Central still has my major, and is a great school for Art Ed, and a fuckton cheaper. KU’s program has more national recognition, and I don’t know if I want to limit myself to the state.”

 “Wisconsin has the best program in the nation.”

 “There were two feet of snow on the ground. It is only fucking November. It’s also so far away. I mean, I want to get away from home, but I didn’t want flying home to be a legit travel plan.”

 “You are only an hour and a half from the airport.”

 “Yeah, and I’m three hours from you in Central, and six from KU. And only 3 hours from Wisconsin, if I don’t mind a plane trip in there.”

 “You have a hang up about planes?”

 “No, I don’t mind flying, but an hour of air travel is like two more hours to the trip going through security. Plus I could hang out with you at Central, or with Matt at KU. Can you keep a secret?”

 I was intrigued, “Of course I can.”

 “I don’t think Matt wants his baby sister at KU cramping his style. I mean, he is probably getting boy band ass there, right? I mean, he is gorgeous, tall, broad, he plays football, and is an all around great guy. And it isn’t like he doesn’t know how to fuck a woman, he’s the best lay I’ve ever had,” Sarah said as she finished drying off her legs.

 I could tell that there was a bit of wistfulness there that she always got when she talked about her brother. From where I’m standing, he was one hell of a catch. He always had a string of different girls in High School, that was for certain. Word had gotten out somehow that Matt was amazing in bed, and then it seemed like all the girls wanted to see for themselves if it was true. He never kept them for very long, and he did his best to keep things cordial between him and his exes. It wasn’t ever surprising for him to run into a girl he used to date in high school, for him to disappear for a half hour or more, only to come back with both of them having a satisfied expression. He never betrayed any of their confidences either, which is probably the reason why girls who knew him were willing to hook up with him like that.

 “I’m sure Matt would love to have you at KU. He graduates next year, right?” I asked.

 “In theory, yes. He is going to study abroad this summer, but he hasn’t decided on Italy or France.” She made a little pouty face. “He could graduate as early as fall semester, but I think there was a class he needed for his major that wouldn’t be offered until the spring semester. Assuming that he passes that, he would graduate that spring, if his math is right, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t be. It’s possible he might need another year at KU though, if he can’t get a substitution for one of his classes he needs for his minor.”

 “Why, what’s up with that?”

 “Apparently, he is under an old catalogue, and one of the classes he needs isn’t taught anymore, and the replacement class is only taught every other fall semester, and he didn’t know he needed the class until after midterms this semester. Something like that, you would have to ask him for the exact details. Do you need to pee?”

 “I could, but I’m not really desperate. Why?”

 “I’m about to start the laundry,” Sarah said, grabbing my towel, and heading to the utility room.

 We walked naked into the utility room; the pool of piss had dissipated, and mostly dried, with only some wet marks around the drain. Sarah threw the towels we had just used into the washing machine, and then climbed on top of it with practiced ease. “Mom wanted to get a front loader, but I talked her into getting this one. It’s a little more expensive, and it won’t leak if the seals go bad. Also, I don’t need to get a step stool to do this,” she said as a stream of pee went straight into the dirty laundry. Sarah was grinning like a Cheshire cat as I watched her piss into the washing machine. I had peed into a washing machine a time or two, but only when they were empty, never with a full load before. “It isn’t like there isn’t already piss in there, I mean, my dress and your sheets were soaked,” Sarah responded to the question that was obviously written on my face. I started rubbing myself just a little bit as I watched her, which judging by how hard her nipples were getting, she appreciated. Her stream didn’t last much more than twenty seconds, as she had just peed no more than an hour prior. When she was done, I leaned forward, and licked the drops of piss of her inner thigh and the lips of her pussy. I was going to start in on her clit, when she pushed me away and jumped down, saying, “Your turn.”

 I’m in pretty good shape, and I had no difficulty climbing up to the top of the washing machine. I tried to start my stream, but there was a slight case of butterflies in my stomach. I always got a thrill from peeing in something new, even if I was kicking myself for not thinking of it sooner. I took a deep breath, and my stream started as I let the air out of my lungs. Seeing my piss reabsorb in the laundry in the machine was a thrill, as was watching Sarah’s cheeks redden, and her hand rubbing herself vigorously. I was tempted to hit her with my stream, but we had just gotten clean, and I wasn’t sure I would have the pressure to hit her without covering the entire washing machine in piss. I settled for letting the last bit drop onto the towels. Sarah licked me clean, a little better than was strictly necessary, before she pulled back.

 “Unfortunately, we don’t have enough time for that, we have to go get dressed,” Sarah said with disappointment. “Now, since we are going to have to deal with family till at least two, I propose a challenge,” she said as she fastened the buttons on a white shirt, not even bothering with a bra. “We won’t pee, and we won’t cum until 2 pm. Matt has already agreed to this. We will try to get each other turned on, and drink when normal. At 2, we will come downstairs, and have some fun, under the auspices of ‘taking a nap’. We will hold it till then. Are you game?” Sarah asked.

 “Hell yeah I’m game,” I said, as I skipped the bra as well, and put on a Star Wars ugly sweater (for those not in the know, an ugly sweater is the type where it has all sorts of odd decorations and is kinda garish. Mine had X-Wings and TIE fighters flying around it, classic trilogy of course. I’ve seen a trend where you cut a hole out of your ugly sweater for you boob to hang out, and then you decorate your boob in the same vein as the sweater. For my college Christmas party, I was planning on turning my left boob into the Death Star, but I was pretty sure that wouldn’t of flown at my families thanksgiving) and a black pleated skirt. “So, it’s ok if I do this,” I asked as I played with the crack of her ass, “but this is a no-no,” I said as I used my other hand to rub her clit a little.

 “No, that is all fine,” Sarah said as she reached under my skirt, and petted the little strip of red hair I kept over my kitty, “You just aren’t allowed to make the other person cum.” The little vixen tortured me by rubbing my bean while kissing me deeply, then pulling back as I started to really get into it. “And don’t get caught, but that should go without saying,” as she put on black pencil skirt.

 “Matt’s playing too, right?” I asked, as I slid on a festive pair of socks with Darth Vader’s helmet lit up with Christmas lights.

 “It was his idea; we talked about it on the drive home. Hell, if you can get him inside you, you’re still good as long as neither one of you get caught, or cum.”

 “What happens if I can’t stand it anymore, and I just have to cum or now?”

 “Well, you have to wait until last then, and cater to the winner’s every whim. If you are the only one to make it till 2 without cumming, then we both have to service you.”

 “And if everybody cums before 2?”

 “Then we have a holding contest. And if you have to pee before two, you have to pee in the toilet properly.” I made a face at Sarah at that. “If everyone manages to make it to 2 without cumming, then we will have a naughty peeing contest instead.” That sounded a lot more fun to me.

 The thought of having both Sarah and Matt servicing my every whim made my pussy throb just thinking about it, and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind being either of their sex slaves for an afternoon. The holding contest just didn’t appeal to me though. Seven hours was a bit of a long hold for me, but it wouldn’t be setting any records, as long as I didn’t drink too much. And then I remembered how much alcohol I had been consuming over the past few days. Fuck, this was going to be harder than I thought.

 I could try sticking to water, but that would probably raise some questions, and then I would have to put up with my Aunt’s BS sober. Doable, but grating as hell. I figured if I rotated every glass of wine with a glass of water, no one would be too suspicious, and I would have a nice light buzz. If I nursed both of those drinks, I should be able to make it the seven hours without too many issues.

 I slipped on a pair of comfortable flats (I was going to be up and down stairs for the next four hours, I didn’t want to kill myself on the stairs) as Matt and two of the other menfolk came trundling down the stairs. The remains of Sarah’s golden shower was gone, and there were a few fading wet footprints that could account for any wetness someone might feel. Of course, no one was bothering to look for such signs; they were here to start on the birds. I couldn’t help but smile when they took the buckets up the stairs and out to the smoke pits.

 Sarah noticed my smile, and after they had all left, she shot me a quizzical look, and asked, “What’s up? What are you smiling about?”

 “I will tell you after lunch, I think you will get a kick out of it.”

 “Suit yourself, we need to get upstairs anyways,” she said as she left the sleeping alcove we had been dressing in. She was wearing a pair of stockings that had a snowflake pattern. She slipped on the tennis shoes she had worn down, saying that she would change her shoes before dinner. I didn’t see her put on the stockings, so I had to take a peek as we went up the stairs. The stockings were being kept up by their elastic, and she was still bare underneath. I cupped her ass, and gently squeezed, causing her to pause before she opened the door out of the basement. She grabbed my hand, and moved it forward, getting me to caress her wet pussy. I explored it with just a little finger before I pulled away, whispering to her, “later.”

Most of the family who was staying there was up at 7, drinking coffee and having one of the rolls. I grabbed a roll and made myself some coffee. The tiredness was starting to catch up to me, and I really wished that I could go back to bed. Matt had remade the bed downstairs with new sheets before he left, and he had kept the blanket from getting wet. I knew it was to cover our tracks, but it made it awfully tempting to just climb back in bed. I put my standard ton of creamer and sugar in my coffee, not caring about anyone else’s opinion on how I took my coffee. I grabbed a roll, and left the kitchen. I did not know anything about corn futures, nor did I care to learn that morning. My Uncle (my dad’s older brother, for those keeping score at home) Daniel, ran the family farm for my grandfather. It was a known fact that he was going to inherit the whole thing, with the rest of the family in peaceful agreement, as no one else particularly wanted to farm. His oldest son, Greg would more than likely inherit the farm, and they would put both of their estates together. That whole branch of the family only lived about an hour away, and my oldest cousin would be driving in for dinner. My uncle and his wife were staying with my aunt, more than likely at her insistence, but they lived near my cousin Greg. Daniel’s daughter, Melissa (she is the one with the new baby) was teaching college at University of Wisconsin, Madison, and had been the one to suggest the school to Sarah. Part of me wondered if that was a ploy on her part to get a guaranteed baby sitter, now that I think about it in retrospect. A few other relatives had shown up, but I had to be introduced (or probably reintroduced, I just couldn’t remember them from the last time I met them) to them by my aunt. I vaguely recognized some of them from photos, but most of them I couldn’t tell you who they were without referring to notes.

 They were all either in the kitchen or the den. The living room had ESPN on, and the men; my dad, Matt, and Uncle Roger (Aunt Carla’s husband, and Matt and Sarah’s dad, in case I failed to mention) were watching some pregame coverage. Uncle Roger was supervising the smoking of the turkey; the other two were more or less manual labor. Everything was going fine, so they were all talking college ball with Matt. Snore. The dining room, where you would think everyone would be eating breakfast, was strictly off limits. Aunt Carla didn’t want anything out of place before the meal was set. The den was where everyone was chatting about who was who, and generally catching up on things, I at the time, did not care about. I had had quite a lady boner when I went to get my coffee, now I wanted nothing more than to not have to see these assholes for another year. I had only gotten 6 hours of sleep the night prior, and I was used to about 10(Yay for no 8 o’clock classes).

 Sarah was pleasant to everyone, projecting this air of perfection that I simultaneously hated and envied. She took me to the study, which had walls lined with bookcases, a few desks around the periphery, and a grand piano dominating one side of the room. There was a table set up with homemade candies that people would occasionally come in and grab a piece of, to help stave off the hunger. It was deserted, and no one was going to be wondering in for a few hours. As soon as Sarah saw that the room was clear, her whole perfect facade dropped. “Fuck these people. I don’t even know half of these bitches. Every one of them always wants to talk about ‘Where you are going to go to college next year?’ ‘Oh, are you going to do cheerleading’, ‘You were always so talented’, ‘I wish I still had your figure,’ Fuck me running.” Sarah said as she collapsed into one of the office chairs behind one of the desks. “It’s either too early or too later for this shit,” she said, taking a sip of coffee.

I took one of the other chairs, behind the other desk. My uncle probably got them cheap when the university bought new ones. They seemed to be hardly used, maybe he had them order ones he wanted, set back a few for his own use, and then bought them for bottom dollar when they bought new chairs.

  I took a bite of my roll, “This is why I hate these things. Why can’t we get together for an afternoon somewhere, and have shit catered. Get a big thing of Chic-fil-a or something. Everybody comes in for an afternoon, and then we leave, not having to put up with one another for another year. Everybody’s happy. I mean, I wouldn't get to spend any real time with you, or Matt for that matter.”

 “That’s probably why we do it like this. Why my house has been invaded for the last week. It’s also the reason why we only do this every few years if I were to make a guess.” Sarah took a long sip of her coffee. “I know it’s driving my Mom crazy.”

 Her mother always seemed like the perfect hostess. “How can you tell?”

 “She bitches more, and goes into control freak mode. That is why I scheduled my school visit for this week. I can barely stand her when she does these things.”

 I honestly couldn't tell, to me she was the same Aunt Carla she always was, but I wasn’t her daughter.

 “Look at how she’s scheduled everything, and is running around like a chicken with her head cut off, making sure everybody is doing what she wants them to be doing. I know it shouldn’t get on my nerves as much as it does, but it seems like anytime she tells you to do something, it has to be in the most condescending way possible. I mean, fuck, I’ve made this god damn dish a dozen different times, I’ve got it. She doesn’t need to hover behind me.” Sarah took another long drink from her coffee.  “Am I being too hard on her? I mean, she is trying to coordinate like, 10 different cooks, and have everything fit relatively into a general theme. This is the first time I’ve been allowed to cook anything for one of these dinners, and for a family reunion, at that. I think I would die if I fucked something up.”

 Not gonna lie, I think I got a little red at that one, but Sarah was in full on rant mode now. I listened, ate my roll, and sipped my coffee.

 “It’s just everyone is putting so much fucking pressure on me right now to pick a school. I just want to get out of this nowhere fucking town, and I don’t particularly care where.” She took another drink of her coffee, and a bite of her roll. She continued, in a much quieter voice. “A part of me wants to go to UC Boulder, it has a good program, and Colorado has legal weed. Plus they are nowhere near as expensive as anywhere in California. But I don’t want to pick a school because I can get stoned there. I think at that point the drug is controlling you, not the other way around. Can you keep a secret?”

 I nodded.

 “I want to go to either Central or KU, so I can hang out with either you or Matt. No offense, but KU is my top choice. I love you cuz, but, even if it was only for a year, I could live with Matt, without Mom or Dad always there. He thinks that choosing a school for a dick, even his, is a stupid decision, and he’s right.” She took another drink of her coffee, and she sat on the desk in front of me. “Sorry, it’s just all getting to me.”

 I patted her on the thigh, before I ran my hand a little higher. “It’s ok; you are close to your brother. And you might be right, maybe he is afraid you will cramp his style, but I doubt it. Maybe he is afraid he’d spend every waking moment fucking his sister instead of studying,” I said, as I slid my hand further up her thigh. “Maybe when you are around, having your hot little body bouncing on his cock is all he can think about,” I said, now moving to her inner thigh. She spread her legs enough for me to rub the bare flesh at the top of her stockings, with my knuckles gently rubbing against her lower lips. “I know he can’t get enough of you, and if you thought you could get away with it, he’d be fucking you on top of this desk right now.” I inserted the tip of my finger into Sarah, as I rubbed her pubic mound with my palm, more than enough stimulation to get her excited, but nowhere near enough to make her cum. I kissed the base of her neck as I rubbed her a little bit faster, cranking up the tension. “Too bad you have to go make a casserole with your mom right now,” I said, as I removed my finger from her pussy, and spread her juices around her asshole. I could see her nipples getting hard, and I wanted to just suck on them for all they were worth. I settled for inserting the tip of my index finger into her ass, which got a gasp out of Sarah, as she tried to get as much of my finger inside of her as possible. Her legs were spread in front of me, as she moved to give me as much access as possible. I fucked her ass for about four thrusts, just enough to get her head to roll back, before I removed my hand and licked my fingers. Sarah didn’t know if she wanted to cum on the spot, beg me to take her right there, or smack me for being such a tease. I gave her exposed ass a little spank, and told her, “You’re mom is expecting you.” That got me the evil eye as I went back to my coffee. I flashed my pussy at her and gave her my best smile. She took her empty coffee cup and the plate her roll was on with her, lifting up her skirt to flash me her ass as she left the room.

 The remnants of my coffee were cold, and I had eaten all of my cinnamon roll. I grabbed a piece of divinity from the candy bar, and braced myself to head to the kitchen, as Matt entered the study. I was feeling particularly flirty, so I decided that the kitchen could wait. I peeked out into the hallway, and made sure the coast was clear. “How are the turkey’s coming, Matt?”

 “Well, they are in. Dad is the one supervising; I was really just manual labor. He said he’d call for me when they were ready to pull out, so I’m just going to try and stay out of everyone’s way.”

 “Yeah, that was my general plan as well,” I said, leaning up against the desk, extending my legs all the way out. Matt looked over approvingly. “I thought I’d let Sarah take the heat off, then go in behind her after they had her do all the hard stuff.” I was hopping my tits were as noticeable as I was trying to make them.

 “I won’t tell if you won’t. Mom’s always expected Sarah to be a younger version of her it seems. She probably wouldn’t of let you take of Sarah’s share even if you wanted to.”

 I went for a classic move; I dropped my piece of candy on the floor. I made sure that when I bent over, my skirt would ride up enough to give him a good glimpse of the bottom of my ass, and maybe just a hint of my mound. It’s taken me a while to perfect that move, and it only works in certain skirts, but it is almost a guaranteed winner.

 Matt moved over and cupped my ass. Jackpot! I ground back into his raging hard-on. I could feel him thrusting into me, the only thing that kept us from fucking right there was the fabric of his pants. I ground on his dick just a bit longer, before I turned around, and gave him a kiss on the lips, while rubbing his cock through his dress pants. I didn’t want a wet spot on the front of his pants if at all avoidable, so I did the reasonable thing and took his dick out. I gently stroked his swelling member, and then guided him over to one of the desks. It was a full desk, with a large compartment for your legs underneath, more than enough room for my 5’6” (1.6m maybe?) body. I guided him into the chair more or less by his dick, and then got under the desk. I gave his cock a few tentative licks, just to get him interested. It sprung back at me, leaking precum. I took the head of his dick into my mouth, savoring the feeling. Matt wanted to thrust into my mouth, at that moment, clearly not caring about the challenge, but I had other ideas. I licked around the head a little bit, lapping up his pre. Slowly, so slowly, I inched his dick into my mouth. Matt was unusually hard to suck off to completion, usually taking at least thirty minutes of concentrated effort to get him to cum(and no, it wasn’t just me. Matt had told me that only four girls had ever successfully sucked him off, Sarah, myself, Amy, the girl he ended up taking to his Junior prom, and some sorority girl at his college. Apparently, he was the final judge of a dick sucking completion for that sorority’s pledge week. I wasn’t into the Greek scene, so I wouldn’t honestly know). Me and Sarah were more than happy to take turns sucking him off, because doing it by yourself can be exhausting. I wasn’t trying to get him to cum, I was just wanting to tease him, and I hadn’t sucked his dick yet this weekend. He settled into his chair, and was stroking my hair as I was trying to keep eye contact with him, when I heard one of my relatives, come in and greet Matt. They start talking with him about the Jayhawk’s season, how he thinks they’ll do in basketball this year, general sports stuff, I think, I kinda just drowned it out. I thought this would be a great time to tease him a little bit more. I start sucking his cock for real, as quite as I could, for sure, but with vigor. The hardest part was keeping from hitting my head on the desk. I figured I would stop after Uncle Whatsisname left, but he just kept going on and on. I could feel Matt starting to build to his orgasm.

 There was a part of me that wanted to make him cum soo badly, which was in conflict with the part of me that wanted to have to take our contest to a tie breaker. I knew that I did not want to have a holding contest, my bladder was starting to protest now as it was. I decided that fuck it, I should finish what I start, and started pumping Matt’s dick with one hand, and fondling his nuts with the other. I took a short break from his cock, to lick Matt’s shaved balls, while stroking his shaft.

 I know the testicles aren’t the prettiest piece of anatomy, but if a guy shaves them, then you should at least put them in your mouth. I’m also of the opinion that if a guy wants to stick his dick somewhere, his mouth should go there first. Wants you to suck his dick, cool. He better kiss you, and kiss you well. He wants to fuck, then he better eat pussy. Half the guy’s I’ve been with the only way they’ve made me cum is by oral. And I don’t have a problem with a guy fucking me in the ass. I love anal, I really do. But the boy better not just kiss my ass, he needs to eat my ass first. Not every time, I still think licking someone’s asshole is a special occasion sort of thing, but he has to do that before he can stick his dick there. I’ve had some guys lick my ass the same night they first got to eat my pussy, some of who it was the first time we had met. I usually stayed in contact with those guys. Hell, if having sex with a girl the first time is an audition, then the quickest way to get a callback from me is to lick my starfish.

 Anyway, while I’m taking a break from sucking Matt’s dick, I feel his dick tremble like it’s getting ready to cum. I was a little worried that he was going to cum on my face, instead of in my mouth. Not because I mind it when I guy does that, whatever gets you off, I like for guys to piss on my face, cumming on it is more of a tease than anything to me. I was more worried that some of it might get on his pants. Matt, who has been talking sportsball with this unknown uncle this whole time, has the presence of mind to send him to see his dad about something or other. I take his whole dick back into my mouth, all the way to his balls, right as he explodes in the back of my throat. It’s everything I can do to swallow it all, but I manage to gulp it all down in the end. I look up, he has this expression on his face somewhere between relief and exhaustion. I smile up at him and ask, “Is the coast clear?”

 Matt nods his head, “That was amazing. I don’t even care that I lost. Did you just win?”

 “I can keep a secret if you can.” He looked at me quizzically. “Your sister is still in the running, I’m still in the running. I wasn’t trying to knock you out of the running, but he just took so long to leave.”

 “I know, right? But it was super exciting. I think that was the second fastest blowjob I have ever had.”

 Most girls would have been disappointed to hear that, but from Matt, that was actually high praise. If you knew him. “So what was the fastest?” I asked as I crawled out from under the desk. I couldn't help but be curious.

 “Sarah is the winner for that one, we were at a McDonald’s drive through, and she went down on me when she saw that the line was long. Then half the cars in front of us drove off, next thing I know, I was ordering for the both of us, and I was in the truck, so the cashier couldn't see into the car when I handed her the money at the next window. Or I don’t think she could. That whole bit, with me paying while Sarah was sucking me off just got me so hot, that I was cumming while we got our food.”

 “That is a helpful note. You love to have your dick sucked where there is a huge risk of getting caught. I’ll remember that for next time.” I told him as I left the room.

 Matt was correct about the division of labor. My Aunt Carla was running Sarah ragged, while I helped fetch a few things from downstairs. This was about 9:45 in the morning, a cup of coffee, two glasses of wine (it’s a holiday, my aunt said, live a little, she said) and a glass of water, and my bladder was starting to talk to me. I took one of the lulls in activity to quietly disappear downstairs. Matt was down here playing on the arcade cabinet his dad had installed down here. It actually had an old PC as its guts, instead of a single arcade board. It was a reasonably good computer for its day, and it was running a custom Linux build, focused on emulation. My uncle did all of the tinkering on it. When the Nintendo Classic came out, he built custom versions for all of the nieces and nephews based on a Raspberry Pi. It’s pretty cool, and I still have it hooked up to my TV back in my dorm. He found a form factor for the Pi that looked like an NES, and managed to hide the USB ports in the lid. It also came with a curated list of games for the NES, the SNES, the Genesis, the Atari, and the PS1.

 The same basic idea was in this cabinet, only about ten times the power. My uncle and my cousin would come down here when they were wanting to get away from my aunt and her get togethers. I think my uncle’s degree was in CIS (computer information systems), and he took a teaching job at the university here when he and my aunt got out of college. They (my aunt and uncle) were willing to play the college politics, and he quickly earned tenure. I think he wrote some software that he sold for a pretty penny sometime in the mid 90’s. I know he got out of the dotcoms before the bubble burst, so they were actually pretty well off finically. The two of them worked together well as a unit, but they rarely seemed to spend time together. My uncle was religious, but didn’t have the zealotry that my aunt possessed. So they each built separate rooms for themselves in this house big enough to forget that you were sharing it with someone else. I don’t think they hated each other, they had been married for nearly thirty years, but I’m not sure they liked each other. They were never affectionate with one another, and they only seemed to ever appear together at meal times.

 The oddest thing was my Aunt never nagged my uncle, yet she constantly nagged everyone else. Maybe she thought he had done his part as provider, and given her as close to anything she ever wanted as a human should aspire for, and that nagging him about whatever would have seemed like she wasn’t grateful. Maybe my aunt was a major sub, and my uncle was completely her dom, in literally every way. My uncle only rarely weighed in on a subject, but when he did, it was taken as a matter of law as far as my aunt was concerned. He was kinda detached from the child rearing process as far as my memory serves. I mean, he showed up to events, but in the day to day thing, he was kinda like the supreme court, you could appeal to him, but only after you had talked to Aunt Carla first. Matt had this same tendency to be aloof and keep to himself, and it always made me wonder what my aunt and uncle were like behind closed doors. Spoiler, I didn’t find that out this trip, thank god, and to this day, I really still don’t know beyond some guesses.

 I wouldn’t say that Matt was brooding, that wasn’t really something he did. He was hiding out down here. That was something him and his sister seemed to have in common, they both hated these get togethers. I rubbed his shoulder as I peeked over at the game he was playing. Super Mario World. I like RPGs more myself, but I would be lying if I said that I never played any of the Mario games. It was good sometimes just to pick up a game and play. His shoulders were super tense. You would think that cumming twice in the last four hours would be enough to relax you but something was clearly on his mind. “Quarter for your thoughts?” I said as I put the ceremonial quarter (a bicentennial quarter, if you were curious) on the cabinet in front of him.

 Matt never looked up from the game, “I’m worried about Sarah.”

 “How so?”

 “She is dead set on going to KU.”

 “Worried she will put a cramp in your style?”

 He gave me a sidelong look that made me question that entire line of thought. “No.”

 “Then what’s the issue?”

 “She just wants to go there because I’m there.”

 “And you don’t want your kid sister there with you.”

 “No, I’d love for her to be there with me. But she shouldn’t pick a school just because I’m going to be there.”

 “Sure, in theory, but if all things are equal, it’s little x-factors that make the difference.”

 “That would be true, but she is picking everything else after she already decided that she wanted to go just to be with me.”

 Matt wasn’t generally such a narcissist, “Ok, you are going to have to unwrap that one for me.”

 “Let’s start with her major,” he said, never looking up from the game, “Art Education. I know she is into art, it’s one of the few things she has in common with Mom. Since when did she want to become a teacher? When I decided to go to KU.”

 I looked at him skeptically.

 “When you pointed out that Central had the best Art Ed program, and was about twenty thousand a year cheaper than KU out of state, she decided that she didn’t want to limit her options by going with a state school. And when Melissa offered up Wisconsin, at in-state rates, with a faculty discount and a cheerleading scholarship, she decided it was too cold. It only gets a little colder there than it does here.”

 That much was true. Midwestern winters were notoriously bad. Snow had a tendency to stick around longer in Wisconsin than it did here, but it still got cold and windy.

 Matt continued on, without pause. “That deal was practically a silver platter deal. She already spends twenty hours a week practicing, so it isn’t anything she isn’t used to. I know she hates it, but what was the point of doing it for six years if you couldn't get something out of it in the end? And Wisconsin has the best Art Ed program in the nation, so she could have gone literally anywhere after four years there. Hell, with academic scholarships, she could have probably made a little money there, and then she could of just kept her entire trust. If she goes to KU, she is going to be broke when she gets out of school, but she says she doesn’t care. So what is it she does care about?”

 “You,” I said reluctantly.

 Matt nodded, “The worst part is that I would love for her to live with me while we went to school. I almost went to school here just so I wouldn’t have to leave her, but they literally had nothing I wanted to study. There is no way I ever want to be a preacher, no matter how happy that would make my mother. But if Sarah did go to KU with me, then I worry what that will do for her future.”

“How so?”

 “We’ve kept it a secret in this podunk town, which to be fair, is nosy as fuck. I worry about the word about me and her getting around campus.”

 “That is never going to happen. It’s not like she would be sneaking you out of her dorm room, she would be living as your roommate. Hell, you don’t even have to tell other people you are brother and sister. It’s not like your last name isn’t super common.” For the record, they were the Jones, literally the second most common last name in the US. “What are you really worried about?”

 Matt paused his game for a second, and looked up at me for the first time in this whole conversation, “What if she never finds anyone, and it’s my fault?”

 “Your fault how? By setting the bar too high?” Matt kinda shrugged at me. “Get real. She is a gorgeous woman, who is smart, and funny, and super kinky. She could have any man she wanted eating out of her hand, and you know it. She will land on her feet, like she always does. She thinks that she is only going to get one, maybe two years out of this house with you, and she probably feels that isn’t an opportunity she wants to miss.”

 “You’re probably right. The fact is, I really want her to go to KU with me, but it feels like I’m being selfish. If she really wants to go, then I should support her, rather than holding her back.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. Now how about you load up something we both can play.”

 We ended up playing half a dozen different games before Sarah came down to personally monitor her casserole. She gave me a look that said I needed to leave her and her brother alone for a bit, and so I made myself scarce. I made my way back to the kitchen to cover for her if need be. Most things were in the oven now, so I set the table. My dad and uncles were on the turkeys outside, so after my chore was complete, it was now just a matter of waiting. My Aunt Carla saw my idleness, and my empty glass, poured me another glass of wine and decided to put me to work. I was to go and make the punch for the meal and the festivities throughout the day. I was told to get Sarah and Matt to help, as Sarah had made it before.

 I went back down to the basement to find Sarah and Matt fucking on the pool table. Sarah had her legs up in the air, and Matt was pounding her for all she was worth. I’m not going to lie, I lifted up my skirt, and started to play with my kitty myself while I drank my wine. It wasn’t long before I heard Sarah screaming in orgasm, and then pleading with her brother to cum inside her. The Coolidge effect is an amazing thing, as I watched Matt scream with his own orgasm as he filled his sister with cum. Almost unbelievably, Sarah came again as her brother shot his seed inside her. They both collapsed next to each other on the pool table, and I stopped playing with myself long enough to walk over there and make my presence known.

 I chose to do this by slurping up as much of Matt’s cum from Sarah’s now hypersensitive pussy as I possibly could, holding it in my mouth, and sharing it with Sarah. She graciously accepted her brother’s load, and we both swallowed our halves down greedily. “You win,” she told me.

 “Does that mean that I can pee now?” I asked.

“As long as it isn’t on me. At least not until after dinner, I need to keep these clothes relatively clean till then,” Sarah replied. “I’m going to go to KU next fall,” she said with a happy lopsided grin.

 “Your mom wants you two to help me make the punch. She said you knew how.”

She looked at me, her eyes bright with delight. “We usually don’t make that till the afternoon.”

 “I think she thought I didn’t look busy enough.”

Matt and Sarah grinned at each other. Matt said, “We would love to help you make the punch.”

 I thought they were both a little too excited about making a drink, but they both hopped off the table and headed to the utility room, where I followed them. Matt got down a big crystal punch bowl, and Sarah got out a gallon bucket of rainbow sherbet (which may be known in places outside the US as sorbet. In my native accent, it sounds like Sher-burt). She also got out a fifth of Everclear (to those who are unfamiliar, an extremely potent grain alcohol), and a fifth of clear rum. There were about a dozen or so 2 liter bottles of Seven-Up in plastic Wal-Mart sacks on the floor near the work table. Sarah got an ice cream scoop out of a drawer, ran it under some hot water, and started scooping as much sherbet into the punch bowl as she could. Matt poured both bottles of alcohol over the sherbet melting it a little bit. Sarah said, “Now, the trick to making this drink the best it possible can be, is for the sherbet to be as melted as possible when you add the Seven-Up. You can do this by heating one of the bottles of alcohol, which generally boils off some of their alcohol content. My mom uses the Everclear for that very purpose. Not ideal in my book. You can heat a bottle of pop up, but then you have flat pop, which is no good. This is the solution I’ve came up with, and I think you will like it Ashley.”

 Sarah hopped up onto the table, and squatted over the crystal bowl, her cute little pussy on full display, as was her pink gem butt plug. She started to pee all over the sherbet. It was like a laser was cutting right through it. “This is why I wanted to wait until 2, which is when I figured we were going to make it. If I knew we were going to make it so soon, I’d have drank more. Oh, but it feels so good to let go finally.” The relief on Sarah’s face was evident, as she unleashed a torrent of piss. Her stream lasted for a good minute, with what was probably a liter of piss in the bowl. The sherbet had been melted a bit, but there were still large frozen chunks on the bottom. “All right, your turn Ashley,” she said as she hopped down off of the table.

I climbed up onto the table, with Matt and Sarah both giving me a hand. I was more than a little nervous, but I figured, since I had already peed on the main course, then this was nothing really. The thought of all those assholes unknowingly drinking my piss made my pussy ache. I was almost out of my mind with lust, as I opened the floodgates into the punch bowl, aiming for whatever big sections of sherbet I could. I know I hadn’t held it for too terribly long, but I’m used to peeing when I want, where I want, and after holding it for four hours, the release felt divine. Inevitably, my stream got a little wild, and I almost pissed on the table outside the bowl. I flicked my stream up and towards the bucket of sherbet on the table beside the bowl, melting a little lake of piss inside the bucket and leaving a pool on the tablecloth. Part of me wanted to be a naughty girl, and soak as much of the tablecloth as I could, but another part of me decided that it was even naughtier to get as much into the punch bowl as I could. I would swear I pissed for two whole minutes, all the while Sarah and Matt were stroking each other off. When I was finally finished, I shook my pussy and my ass a little to get any loose drops into at least the vicinity of the punch bowl.

 Now, it was Matt’s turn. He was almost tall enough just to piss over the edge, but he got out a little stepstool instead of climbing onto the table. Probably a wise idea, Matt was a big, muscular guy. Unbeknownst to me, Matt had been drinking mostly beer this morning, and the look of relief on his face when he finally let go was sublime. I had done a decent job of pulverizing the big pieces of sherbet into smaller pieces; Matt melted those little pieces into a cream, and kinda stirred the bowl a bit with his stream of piss. Sarah reached under my skirt and started running her fingers over my little red landing strip, before easily sticking two fingers inside of me, as we both watched Matt’s performance. I played with her butt plug with just a twinge of jealousy, before I stuck two fingers of my own into her wet pussy. I will admit, I didn’t do a very good job of pleasing my partner, as I was far too focused on my own impending orgasm. With my free hand, I took her arm and shoved her hand further up inside of me. I came so hard, I thought I was going to break Sarah’s fingers. All this time, Matt’s beautiful cock was pissing like a racehorse into the family punch bowl. It wasn’t till he stopped, and I got to lick the last drops of his piss of of his dick, that I tasted the beer in his pee.

 Having made me cum, Sarah took her fingers out of me, and put them in my mouth to lick them clean, which I happily obliged. I fed her some of her own cream with my fingers as well. She smiled and said, “Now obviously, we can’t serve this, so now we add the pop.” She bent down and grabbed a few two liters from beside the table, and poured one of them inside the punch bowl. Then she got out a matching ladle, and stirred the bowl up. Matt stepped over to a nearby cupboard and pulled out some clear plastic disposable cups. He pulled off three from the stack, handing one cup to me and Sarah. Sarah ladled up a little bit into all of our cups, “Quality control, we need to know how much pop to add. Drink!” The concoction tasted like overly sweet everclear, with a strong salty aftertaste. It wasn’t exactly disgusting, but the taste was stupidly strong, alcohol and piss wise. We all made almost the exact same face, but we all drained our cups nonetheless. “Another bottle of pop then,” she said as she opened the second bottle. It took about five more bottles, before it tasted halfway decent, and I was starting to feel more than a little drunk after all of that alcohol. Sarah said she would put five more in once Matt got it up the stairs and into the dining room. The whole time she was peeling super thin layers of sherbet off, and then melting them in with the warm soda, in an effort to keep the whole thing cold. Matt also got out a few bags of ice from the deep freeze, and put one on each side to help keep the bowl and the punch chilled. It took about 15 minutes total to make the punch. “That should buy us a good half hour, 45 minutes of free time before we need to make ourselves present before God and family. Ashley won the little contest handily.”

“Technically, I came before 2, just like the rest of you,” I said, wanting to be fair.

 “Yeah, but that was after we forfeit,” Matt said. “And both Sarah and I had already came, multiple times, before then. We salute your superior cunning and willpower,” he said with a fake bow. “I suppose that means you can have your way with us, any way you want to.”

 “Hmm, how to let that sort of power go to my head and corrupt me the fastest? I think I’ll hold off on my victory dance for now, and then claim my prize at two. Though I have to admit, the idea of a naughty peeing contest was something I was looking forward to. How about this, we drink as much as we can stand until two, which is a little over two and half hours away, then have our little contest.  We will decide on the stakes then. That cool with everyone?”

“One thing, don’t fill up on desert too much,” Matt said. “I have a treat for everyone after the familial obligations are fulfilled.”

“OOHH! Nice! I’m looking forward to it, if it is what I think it is,” Sarah cooed.

 “One last thing, Sarah, do you have any more of those butt plugs?”

“I have two other ones, but they are both about the same size.”

 “Can I borrow one?”

“Super kinky. Of course. If you get lonely tonight, I moved my stash to the rec room.”

I wish I had known that on Tuesday. Oh well, we weren’t leaving until Sunday.