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holyknight3

Thanksgiving Weekend

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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

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

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

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

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

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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!

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