Still Walking Strong (Walk Home series, 3rd chapter)

[Alpian 687]

Unfortunately, I can no longer edit the older posts of "Walk Home", so for the sake of proper tagging (below & bold), I decided to publish this in a separate thread.

 

EDIT: Personally, I like being surprised by a story and feel that tags may tell a little too much about what's to come, so I once drafted a summary sentence for each chapter, as appetizer without giving everything away:

• The Walk - Prologue: Presents the protagonists, a middle-aged woman running errands despite her rapidly filling bladder and a shy, introvert final-year high-school student who’s observing from far, attracted by her voluptuous hourglass body.
• Walking Home - First Part: A mishap leads to others, ending in pee needing to be cleaned up.
• Walking Home Again: A neighbor learns about the events, her desperate act leading to new wetness.
• Still Walking Strong: Feelings and emotions are discussed, agreement reached. Punishment ensues. Desires evolve.
• Walking to Please: Desperation for satisfaction leads to a bet. Unforgiving niece pushes boundaries using her strong urine.
• Walking – Enjoying it together: Sarah devises an experiment, suffering pee is part of the game
• Walking Pleasures: History repeats, wet pleasures cause collateral damage.
• Walks Are Over: After a long wait, a backpack takes center stage. The destructive force of pee is demonstrated.
• Walking in Secret: Wetting helps rekindle memories, followed by romantic encounter.
• Walking Around The House: Can a treasure become more valuable if it gets peed on?
• Walking New Paths: Dreams and nightmares; Sarah hunting on forbidden grounds.
• Venturing in New Territory: Sarah’s hunt continues, wetness spreads beyond the circle.

"Still Walking Strong" is probably the best chapter in the story, building on the events before it but providing kind of a summary for those who want to jump right in.

 

Tags for the parts already published:

• The Walk (rather lengthy prologue introducing the protagonists, purely female desperation / holding it / omorashi - no actual peeing)
• Walk Home - First Part (desperation leads to accidental wetting, female peeing, humiliation [non public])
• Walking Home Again (protagonists meet again, now they are three [ffm] - humiliation, female wetting, female peeing, female domination)
• Still Walking Strong (the three meet again, no longer merely desperation and accidental peeing: female desperation, deliberate wetting, female peeing, golden showers, piss drinking, humiliation and female domination)

In the next chapters, things get a bit complicated - I guess I need to revise a bit how the third woman gets involved...

NB: The series is seriously long - this chapter alone has 15k words - and not ideal for readers looking for the quick kick.

Edited April 28, 2022 by Alpian
Added summary for all chapters

[Alpian 687]

Note:  This story contains Female Domination, Humiliation, Deliberate Female Wetting, Female Peeing, Golden Showers, and Piss Drinking

 

 

Still Walking Strong

 

When I got home, no one was around, so I quietly went to my room, changed clothes and went straight to bed. There was so much to dream about: wet panties, soaked pussies, and overwhelming ladies!

 

Two weeks passed and nothing had happened. The weather was rather rainy and I had chosen to ride my bike or hitch a ride whenever some neighbor’s kid had the same hours as I did. But summer came back and so did my desire to pick up my clothes. Doubtless, Mom would ask for them now that the weather allowed wearing them again. And maybe there was something else that attracted me to that house with a birch tree in front of it?

Finally, an opportunity arose – my parents would not be home till late, school was out early and the weather was brilliant. No neighbors around to offer me a ride, either – perfect. So I wandered off, shouldering my backpack and looking forward to what was waiting for me.

I got quite anxious when I turned into said street and my nervousness increased with every step. Would Ms. Birch be at home? Would she just hand me my clothes through the door and send me away? Would I be invited in? What about Ms. Kryokova? I was looking forward to seeing them again and at the same time I feared my dreams would be shattered, that I wouldn’t be lucky for a third time…

 

But what had happened after I had left the house last time?

Ms. Kryokova had looked for Ms. Birch and finally found her coming out of the family bathroom.

“What happened? Why did you leave so suddenly?” she wanted to know.

Ms. Birch blushed and turned her head slightly:

“I don’t know. It just felt so wrong what I was doing. And still, this tingling in my lower body, I felt I would do something stupid if I didn’t run away.”

“Ah, come on! There was nothing wrong with showing that brat how to behave! I mean, back in those days, he would have gotten a thorough beating for what he did – and you just made him feel the same as he had done to me.”

The experience downstairs having built a strong connection between them, Ms. Birch felt she could confide in her neighbor in all aspects of this event. Somehow the expression in Ms. Kryokova’s face told her she would find full understanding and sympathy.

“That’s true, but – believe me or not – I was totally turned on by what I did, I couldn’t help it.” She admitted, blushing.

“What’s wrong with that? I admit that I enjoyed it a lot when he cleaned my pussy with his tongue. He was so shy and careful; it took him ages – all the time stimulating my labia. Yet I don’t regret a thing!”

“I had to run away!” Ms. Birch insisted. “Imagine: I squatted over his lap, my pubic hair just touching his penis. My pee was jetting directly at his shaft, splashing all over his body…”

She paused.

“Does it feel right to be aroused by that?” she inquired, “And yet, as I finished, I felt the urge to simply sit down and rub myself against his private parts. Mind you: Such a young boy and covered in my piss! That’s just not supposed to feel good, is it? I felt so perverted!”

Ms. Kryokova let pass some time before she replied:

“Now, don’t be ashamed because of that little brat! I mean, he deserved it, didn’t he? After all he started the mess! If it turns you on, so what? No harm done, is it? We were punishing that teenager for his rude behavior; there is no doubt that he deserved it. Whether you feel pain and regret or joy and arousal does not matter at the end of the day.”

“If you put it like that… Maybe you’re right? – Did you really enjoy him licking the pee off your pussy?”

“I know it sounds twisted – I even experienced an orgasm!” Ms. Kryokova admitted, somewhat cheeky. “And I am not going to regret that.”

At this, her neighbor stared at her flabbergasted. After a while, she stammered:

“When I arrived upstairs, I still couldn’t get my mind off what just happened. I hoped I would have a clearer head if I ran away from the scene, but instead the excitement grew and I was trembling with desire – as soon as I got to the bathroom, I directed the shower jet at my pussy to clean myself… I think I came within seconds!” Ms. Birch finally admitted.

“As you were gone, I had him clean himself and the laundry room.” Ms. Kryokova said into the silence that followed.

“He is such an obedient boy!” her friend praised.

“Oh, don’t be naïve! Probably he simply didn’t see another way out – I had locked the door and was watching him very closely.”

Ms. Kryokova wanted to make sure her friend did not regret anything. She had more plans for the future and these required making her friend feel free of sympathy for the boy. No, he had to remain the misbehaved brat he had been to her this afternoon!

“Maybe you’re right: I don’t understand how he can be so naughty at times. And the next moment he is as nice a shy little boy as you can imagine.” Ms. Birch wondered.

“As I said: don’t let yourself be kidded! Did you watch his face? It didn’t exactly look as if he was taking our lesson seriously. I wish, I could really teach him a lesson to remember!” Ms. Kryokova claimed. “These calm, well-behaved types are often the worst mischief-makers when out of sight!”

This conversation immediately followed my departure.

 

Families Birch and Kryokova had always been on friendly neighborly terms and shared quite a few barbeques. But now, Ms. Birch and Ms. Kryokova became close friends. They met almost daily when their husbands and kids were at work and school, mostly discussing their common experience in the laundry cellar. For some unquestioned reason they always ended up meeting at the Birches house.

Slowly, Ms. Birch began to accept her newly found feelings. She opened up to the fact that she had enjoyed the situation of superiority and power, the punishment of that little naughty teenage boy who had first thrown garbage in her front yard and then made her humiliate herself, peeing her panties in front of him. Thanks to Ms. Kryokova – who had always been very open to her own desires and sexual feelings – she started to feel she had done nothing wrong and that it was her right to punish me for what I had done to her and feel good about it. No, she did not have to feel ashamed! Whom did it concern what she felt when she punished me? Certainly, it was no one’s business!

Ms. Kryokova seemed to enjoy discussing the subject. Pretty much every time they met, she managed to bring up the subject and pointed out what a spoiled, disrespectful and ill-mannered brat I must be behind that quiet façade. She loved to discuss the punishments they had used to discipline me and how these had apparently failed to impress me appropriately.

“He has not even picked up his clothes yet, has he?” she asked her neighbor.

“No, I haven’t seen him since.” Ms. Birch confirmed.

“Shows little respect for you and for his mother, don’t you think?” Ms. Kryokova remarked.

“Why?”

“Well, you have been washing his clothes –clothes soiled in your house without any respect. Do you think his mother is happy if he discards the clothes she paid for just to avoid the humiliation and punishment waiting for him when he picks them up?” she made her point.

Even now, Ms. Birch did not know that Ms. Kryokova had purposefully peed on my lap, that I in fact was innocent in that respect; that I had never actually pissed my pants in her house.

“What humiliation and punishment?” Ms. Birch asked, astonished.

“Don’t you think he will be embarrassed to ask for the clothes he wet in front of you? And don’t you think that he deserves some extra punishment when he comes? All the extra work he caused you, leaving you alone with the mess? He never said sorry for dumping his litter in your yard, even less for his outright outrageous behavior when he peed his pants just to see me off his lap!”

Ms. Kryokova always secretly enjoyed a naughty pee, and she sensed she had finally found a person she could confide her secrets to. Her neighbor was just starting to truly discover her sexuality, breaking free from the bounds education and upbringing had tied around her. She was proud that she had sent me off in my sports gear, keeping my other clothes when I left. She intended to force me coming back – she was not done with her games yet!

“Hm, I understand what you are saying… But don’t you expect him to say sorry when he comes to pick up his clothes?” Ms. Birch asked. The tingle in her belly told her that she wished I wouldn’t.

“That naughty brat? Who peed on your friend just for his revenge?” her neighbor laughed at her. “Besides, he is silent as hardly another teenager. Did he ever say a word without being forced to speak? – No, he won’t admit to his wrong doings.”

To drive home her point, she added:

“A well-behaved person would bring a bouquet of flowers to confirm their words and as a thank you for washing their dirty clothes. Do you really think that is going to happen?”

Ms. Birch felt relief. A bouquet of flowers? No, that was definitely not going to happen! They would definitely have a reason to punish the boy again…

She didn’t realize what a twisted train of thought this was. But she felt she longed to dominate, to punish the boy again, as she felt her bladder tingle, filling with freshly processed urine. Still, she couldn’t get herself to refer to him as a brat. No, there was a subtle divergence of the picture Ms. Kryokova drew of him and the boy she remembered. She loved to accept Ms. Kryokova’s descriptions as they gave them the right to exert power over the boy and to punish him. Something she felt she was looking forward to. Something she would enjoy, even if it was still hard for her to admit. Ms. Kryokova’s descriptions eased the pangs of conscience she felt about this. But she couldn’t really believe that this was the only way to look at “that little boy’s” behavior. Maybe he was just shy? Maybe he did not dare to object? Maybe he had wet himself out of fear as her heavy, commanding friend straddled him? But no, the latter seemed rather farfetched – of what would he have been afraid – afraid enough to pee his pants?

Silence settled in the room as Ms. Birch gave audience to her thoughts, wandering away in fantasies. Sitting at the tea table, both ladies looked at the window and silently wished for that little boy or naughty brat to appear in their street. Would he ever come to ask for his clothes?

“How I wish to pee on his lap!” Ms. Kryokova burst out suddenly. “Give it all back to him what he did to me!” she added, careful not to raise her friend’s suspicions.

“Oh, I could do that immediately!” Ms. Birch replied without thinking. “My bladder is full to burst: We have been chatting for hours, and I haven’t been to the toilet since you came over.”

She wasn’t aware of the meaning of what she said. She felt she would do it, she knew in her heart that it would feel good. But would there be any reason to do it? Could she expect the boy to accept something like that happening?

“I wish he would pass by soon!” Ms. Kryokova dreamt on. “I would love to see you sit on his lap, lifting your dress a little bit and wetting his clothes. How I’d feel avenged by his humiliation!”

“I want to see the look in his face!” Ms. Birch admitted, feeling her crotch get warm and moist. “Just imagine when he suddenly feels the warmth spreading over his lap, pee soaking his trousers. What a shock!”

“And picture yourself getting up whilst peeing, making sure to wet his t-shirt, too!” Ms. Kryokova continued. “Saying ‘How does it feel getting peed all over your clothes?’ or so. He would be completely humiliated!”

“What a retribution for what he did to you a fortnight ago!” Ms. Birch went on.

“But you would have to wet your panties in the process.” Ms. Kryokova stated, feeling her vagina pulsing at the simple thought.

“Hm, I imagine there would be little time to take them off once he came…” her neighbor considered the statement. “I just wonder if he would follow us down into the basement again and then let me sit on his lap?”

Ms. Birch felt her conscience twinge as she realized how absurd a situation she was dreaming up.

“Certainly he would!” Ms. Kryokova asserted. “He wants to pick up his clothes and if he doesn’t need to say sorry the least he can do is go pick them up in the laundry cellar. I wish…” – a sudden inspiration flashed through her mind, leaving her craving for gratification – “Yes, could I – oh I wanted to pee on his backpack.” She uttered. “That would be a lesson for him – having his schoolbooks wet with pee!” Vivid pictures emerged from her subconsciousness. “How I would love to open the backpack and then even pee into it. He would remember that lesson, oh how he would!” she exclaimed.

Again silence fell as the two women gave audience to their thoughts.

“I can’t hold on very long anymore!” Ms. Birch broke the silence. “I think I will have a short toilet break.”

“I feel like peeing, too. Your birch tree leave infusion seems to speed up my renal function – I have only been to the toilet little more than an hour ago.” Ms. Kryokova admitted. “But I won’t go until I can’t hold on anymore. I would be sorry if that brat knocked at the door just after we went to the bathroom!”

She hoped her neighbor would stay, too. She liked to see her in desperation and she felt her vagina get wet as she fantasized about Ms. Birch peeing into her panties – on that naughty brat’s lap. This train of thought would only be half as thrilling if Ms. Birch’s bladder were empty.

“I can’t stand this anticipation anymore! It makes my body twist with desire; my full bladder doesn’t make it any better!” Ms. Birch described her feelings.

“Doesn’t it feel wonderful, sitting here with a full bladder, imagining how that little brat is subjected to our punishment?” Ms. Kryokova answered. “After peeing on his backpack I would make him lick my pussy dry, every little drop of pee he would have to suck away. I’m sure I would come again: It felt so wonderful last time!”

“But you can’t pee on his backpack!” Ms. Birch replied as if their fantasies were real plans. “Imagine the scandal of him coming home with wet books smelling of pee!”

“I can’t help it; it makes me incredibly hot to imagine him cleaning his books, wiping page by page with his clean t-shirt to remove my pee and save his works.” Ms. Kryokova described her fantasy. “And since he is such a brat, his Mom would probably blame him for peeing his books on purpose. If I could only see his face when he has to tell his parents – what humiliation!”

Ms. Birch got up and started to clear the table. She was barely able to contain her desperate need to pee. She could sit no longer. She would have to go to the toilet when she had finished placing their dishes in the dishwasher – or she would piss her panties.

She almost lost control when Ms. Kryokova suddenly jumped up and ran past her.

“Don’t scare me like this!” Ms. Birch shouted as she felt her bladder release a spurt into her panties, only just stopping the flood. “I almost peed my pants!”

Ms. Kryokova didn’t reply; she stood at the window, staring outside: She had seen someone slowly walking up the street, looking at the house, hesitating in front of the garden gate. Yes, it was the long awaited little brat!

 

I was standing in front of the house with the birch tree – and I was too shy to approach it. I felt embarrassed. Could I just walk up to the door and ask for my clothes? Would they even remember? What if someone else opened the door? What would they think? What should I tell them if they asked me what I wanted? What excuse was there for my clothes to be at their house? Should I say that I had peed myself on the street and Lady Birch had invited me in to change and wash my clothes? It was too humiliating!

I looked at the house, at the kitchen window. Here it had happened, three weeks ago: I had seen how Lady Birch had wet her panties in front of me. For the first time in my life, I had seen a naked woman’s vulva close up. I trembled with excitement. Then I saw something move behind the window: Ms. Kryokova was watching me. I blushed. She had peed on my clothes, she had made me lick her pussy – she didn’t know how much I had dreamt about her during the last two weeks. Yet I felt humiliated: she had seen me naked, she had seen how Lady Birch peed on me, how I had sat in Lady Birches pee, totally aroused and unable to move. She had made me clean up the mess afterwards. I didn’t dare looking at the window, at the house. I turned my gaze away, looked at the ground, my face burning hot from the blood shooting to my head. However much I had liked it, I would never forget the humiliation that went with it.

I stood there – I don’t know how long. Then I took a heart: It was too late. She had seen me. I took a step towards the door. She would think I were a total coward if I would not even dare to pick up my clothes. I got angry: It was all her fault, after all. Had she given me my clothes right away, I need not live through the humiliation of walking to the door and asking for my clothes.

Finally, I walked all the way up to the door. After another pause I finally rang the bell. It seemed like ages until the door opened. I thought all neighbors must be looking at me, it was so embarrassing. They didn’t know, but I felt like they could look inside me and see everything that had happened.

The door opened. Ms. Kryokova stood there, scowling at me. I didn’t utter a word and stood in silence, staring at the floor immediately in front of me, blushing more and more.

“So!” was all she said after what seemed like eternity.

I could have sunk in the ground.

“Nothing to say, huh?” she asked.

I still didn’t reply, but shyly took a step forward.

“Can’t get in quick enough, that ill-mannered little brat, eh? Not a word of sorrow? No excuses? We should have expected at least a little sign of repentance, huh?” she said sternly.

I flinched. I had not expected to be scolded like that. Hopefully they would give me my clothes at all! – I felt like running away…

Ms. Kryokova sensed the danger of me running off. She needed to get me into the house quickly, so she modified her strategy.

“Let’s get your stuff.” She continued telling me off but stepped to the side. “Get moving, I don’t like to talk to you at the door! You know the way…”

I slowly stepped forward and she closed the door. She took my arm and dragged me towards the far end of the hallway. Lady Birch was just coming out of the kitchen.

“Look here!” Ms. Kryokova told her. “This little brat hasn’t said a word yet. Not a word of sorrow, no excuse, no thank you for being invited in, no explanation why he is here – and of course no flowers as a sign of repentance!”

“What do you want?” Lady Birch’s voice sounded kindly, as she asked me. She looked at me with a weirdly mixed expression of pity and superiority, compassion and dominance, desperation and excited anticipation. “Did you come to get your clothes?”

All I could do was nod – I felt too embarrassed.

“Then come down to the basement – you know where the laundry is.” She commanded in a soft voice, leading the way. “To be honest, I am disappointed with you. Ms. Kryokova is right: I have not heard a single word of repentance or remorse. You seem to expect us to accept your behavior like it is – and you have behaved quite rudely the last time you were here!”

Her friendly voice made me feel the accusations even more deeply. I felt sorry. I’d dreamt of being friends with Lady Birch. She had given me the chance to see her vulva and I hoped to be allowed another glance if she would like me. But I had messed it all up. Everything I did, I did it wrong…

Suddenly a flicker of hope shot through my mind: What if she felt I should be punished again? Maybe in a similar way as last time? Maybe it wasn’t that bad if she was angry at me?

When I looked back, up the stairs, I saw Ms. Kryokova’s face. And her expression couldn’t frighten me as much as before: she looked stern and overpoweringly dominant, but at the same time I felt that there was more; unconsciously, I felt the sexual tension that was dominating the situation. And in Lady Birch’s face, too – there was a certain apprehension, a tension that promised more than scolding words.

As soon as we entered the laundry room, Ms. Kryokova grabbed my backpack and dragged and pushed me onto the chair by pulling at its handle. As she made me sit down with one hand, her other hand pulled the backpack upwards, slipping it of my lifted arms. She was still standing behind me. I could feel her breasts touching my shoulders, she was this close. She didn’t move. I breathed harder. What would happen next? I was tensed up with apprehension.

Lady Birch walked up to us and straddled me, still standing. She was very close, I had to bend back into Ms. Kryokova’s décolleté and look right up to face her. She looked down at me and said:

“Do you remember what happened last time you sat on this chair?”

She was talking about me presumably wetting my pants. She couldn’t know it had been her neighbor’s pee, I thought. I nodded.

“Did you ever say sorry for this?” she inquired.

I shook my head. Should I tell her I was innocent? Anyways, she wouldn’t believe me, I thought.

“Do you think it was good behavior? Do you think I can accept that something like this happens to my friend in my house? And you don’t even excuse yourself!”

Again, I had to shake my head. She was sitting on my lap now, firmly pushing her crotch against my belly.

“Ms. Kryokova and I have agreed that you need to feel a more severe punishment if you prove to be resistant to our previous lessons. And I fear you didn’t prove you learnt anything from the last lesson you got!”

How could I deny that she was right? I looked at her, feelings of understanding, repentance and submission mixing in my expression. But I could not get any wiser from her expression. Little did I know that she was fighting hard to contain her pee: She was beyond desperate now and had started leaking into her panties. She felt a trickle of pee running down her left thigh and the crotch of her panties was more than soaked already: She was desperate to get over the introduction and finally release her bladder’s contents on my lap. Her arousal at the thought of what was going to happen did not exactly make it easier for her to hold on. She needed to piss now!

“I see you feel the power of my correct verdict; but I doubt that you will remember it for a long time. So we will have to reinforce it with a more severe punishment than last time.”

Saying this, she lifted her dress far enough that it didn’t touch my clothes, pulling it from between us. She was sitting right on my crotch now, her breasts briefly touching my face as she was bending forward to reduce the pressure on her bladder. Then she straightened up again, pushing her lower body hard against mine. She was peeing forcefully into her panties; it had started quite suddenly and she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Her face was showing the extreme relief she felt. After she had peed for about ten seconds, she regained control over herself. Slowly, she continued to pee. I felt her golden liquid soaking into my trousers, drenching my panties, little rivulets flowing along my waist into my crotch and forming a puddle in the seat under my butt. It felt like last time, yet different. Ms. Kryokova had not peed as hard, had left more time for her pee to soak into my clothes.

She prepared to get up; I felt how her weight on my thighs decreased and then how she gently rubbed her crotch along my belly. Now, she pulled up her dress further, gathering it in one hand, making sure it didn’t touch her wet knickers. This might have taken her ten seconds. She was standing now, still straddling me, her dress pulled up all the way to my face, tickling my nose. Her pee was running along the insides of her thighs and dripping off her panties onto my wet belly and legs.

Her free hand reached for her crotch and pulled her panties aside. She arched her back, bringing her hips forward, and pushed hard to release the last jet of her clear golden-tinted pee. I could see the stream of pee appear under the hem of her dress, arching towards my chest, wetting my t-shirt. Wet warmth spread all over my body as the pee was soaking into my clothes and trickling down my skin.

Unfortunately, she held her dress such that I could not see the origin of her stream. I longed to see her vulva, to get a glance of her wonderfully thick black bush and her beautifully red inner labia! But I did not get a chance – I had to sit there, my shoulders held by Ms. Kryokova behind me and my sight hindered by the gathered fabric of the dress only a few centimeters from my face. Instead, I concentrated on the feeling of warm pee running down my skin, collecting in a warm puddle on the seat, then soaking into the fabric of my pants and running along my legs into my shoes. A light scent of bitter-sweet pee flavored the air around me, bringing back memories of that far away time (three weeks ago) when I saw her pussy for the first time.

Lady Birch was still straddling me, apparently unmoved, as my senses returned to the here and now. I saw her whole body tremble slightly. Looking up to her face, I noticed a hint of uncertainty, of her being at a loss how to continue my punishment. Her mind seemed to be in a different world.

Ms. Kryokova was shaking with lust by now. Her firm, full breasts were still touching my neck. Until the very last moment, she had not believed Ms. Birch would do it. But now she saw that her compassionate and empathetic friend had followed her manipulation and given in to lust and desire rather than following morals and conscience. Ms. Kryokova felt proud of her achievement, a wave of lust and satisfaction ran through her body. It had been right not to tell her friend that she had peed on that little brat’s lap last time: Ms. Birch would never have agreed to her scheme had she known the truth, she thought. Yet now she was sure they had crossed a point of no return. She felt confident she could now launch the second stage of her mischievous plan.

“What are you waiting for?” she addressed me, “Help Ms. Birch in her awkward situation and pull down her panties. You know how to do that!”

Instinctively, I moved my arms up. They were covered with pee, since I had them hanging at my sides during the punishment. Slowly, I lifted my hand at the inside of Lady Birch’s thighs until I reached the limits of my sightline. Very careful, I continued to move, desperately trying not to touch anything with my wet hands. After a while, I felt something wet tickle the back of my hand – I had reached the outer limits of her pubic hair. I stopped to move. How should I know where to find her panties without touching her dry skin with my wet hands? I was too confused to realize that her inner thighs were anything but dry…

Lady Birch must have understood – she pulled her gathered dress as high as she could, using only one hand. My gaze followed the movement of her dress’ hem until I could see her other hand, still holding her panties to the side. I moved my hand higher, taking hold of the wet panties’ crotch right next to her hand. I could feel her hand tremble as our hands briefly touched. As soon as I had taken hold of the panties, she removed her hand, using it to gather her dress higher. I wasn’t sure anymore: did she really tremble or was it me, shaking with lust? As the hem moved up higher, I could see some pubic hair appear, the visible triangle slowly grew, I saw her bright red inner labia shimmer through the wet curtain of hair as more and more of her mons pubis was exposed to my stare. Her panties covered the right upper half of the triangle her pubic hair formed, creating a diagonal line parallel to her left groin. I was so excited – I had been waiting for this view ever since she had straddled me. And hoping for it much longer. I was so immersed in staring at her, I didn’t move at all.

Ms. Kryokova had been disappointed that she could not see how Ms. Birch peed on me from her vantage point. As she saw that I would not budge when Ms. Birch straddled me and announced the punishment, she had regretted her choice of standing behind me. She had been ready to hold me in place should I have shown any signs of flight instinct. But this proved to be unnecessary and Ms. Kryokova had ended up seeing nothing but a gathered dress in front of my face. She had had to rely entirely on her other senses to savor the situation: she heard the pee splashing on my clothes and smelled the odor of fresh urine wafting through the room. She was incredibly turned on. The idea of tricking her friend into peeing through her panties on a little boy’s lap, the imagination of her friend being aroused by what she did, the feeling of successful manipulation and subtle power exertion, the dominance over me, the humiliation I had to go through – mostly innocent as she knew: all this formed into a giant wave of lust shaking her body, almost blowing her mind. Now that she was at the next stage, she needed new stimuli to satisfy her desires.

“Why don’t you take of that dress entirely?” she asked Ms. Birch. “It’ll only get wet – hand it to me and I can put it in a safe place.”

Ms. Birch hesitated at first, but then quickly pulled the dress over her head and passed it to Ms. Kryokova. Was it the first time that I saw her almost naked, wearing only a bra and her wet panties? I didn’t know, I had dreamt so many times about her I couldn’t distinguish fantasy from reality anymore. But I wasn’t going to be interested in her bra and belly when I could see a female crotch. Seeing her mons pubis covered with thick black curly hair, her wonderful red labia shining through: This was paradise, I thought. And so I looked back down at the wet panties, wet hair, and shiny pussy lips.

My hand moved up to the upper hem of her panties, finally beginning to pull them down as I had done with Ms. Kryokova’s knickers a fortnight ago. A bit of pubic hair appeared; then more and more until I had finally uncovered her pussy, the panties dangling half way down to her knees. Here I stopped; the straddling legs were too far apart to allow further movement. What would happen next, I wondered.

“Lick her pussy dry as you did with mine last time!” Ms. Kryokova ordered.

I had to twist to get my head to Ms. Birch’s vulva. Last time I had been kneeling, now I was sitting on a chair, Ms. Birch’s vulva less than a foot in front of me, but about ten centimeters below my chin. Bending my back, I slid to the edge of the chair and tilted my head sideways. Now I could reach her groin, her mons pubis and part of her legs. I started to gently suck on her thighs to remove any pee that had found its way up there, progressing towards her pubic hair, softly pulling a few hairs between my lips to wipe off any drops of pee that clung to them. Finally, I reached her clitoral hood and the front of her inner labia. They were larger than Ms. Kryokova’s, and somehow felt different. I slid my tongue along them to feel the differences, to store every detail of them in my brain. But even as Lady Birch pushed her hips forward, I could not reach the inner areas of her thighs nor cover her full crotch with my tongue.

I was so immersed in my task that I didn’t notice what happened over my head. Ms. Kryokova leaned forward to her neighbor and whispered in her ear:

“Do you remember what we discussed in the kitchen? I really need to pee by now – I wonder how he will react if I announce that I want to piss into his backpack!”

Ms. Birch was shocked. Her friend could not do that, she thought. It would leave traces too obvious and it could ruin the valuable books and exercise books. But at the same time she was intrigued: would Ms. Kryokova really do it? And what would that little boy still licking her pussy say about it? Was her neighbor only teasing to watch her reaction?

After all, Ms. Kryokova had not participated in any of the peeing yet, she realized. Her own interests required that Ms. Kryokova put herself in a compromising situation, too! Otherwise she was vulnerable to laughter, even to blackmail. Nevertheless, could she accept her friend to ruin the poor boy’s belongings? You could wash clothes, but books?

“You cannot do that – it will ruin the books!” she whispered to her friend, adding: “At least give him a choice to avoid it!”

“Ok. I shall wait a little bit. But I can’t hold it too long, I am getting desperate.”

A few moments passed. Ms. Kryokova was considering her options and Ms. Birch enjoyed the soft teasing of my tongue around her clitoral hood.

“Listen: step back and let him fully remove your knickers. Ask him to get undressed before he lies down on that heap of dirty laundry over there. It will be more comfortable for you to straddle him there and let him clean your inner thighs and your vulva with his tongue.” Ms. Kryokova suggested. “In the meantime, I’ll squat over his backpack to watch you. He will notice and I shall warn him in time about my desperate need to pee. We shall see what happens next.”

Ms. Birch agreed immediately. She hadn’t listened to the whole proposal; she had heard her friend’s recommendation to take on a more comfortable position to have her pussy licked. And she had noticed that her friend was not immediately going to urinate into the backpack, so there was no need to worry. All she needed now was to feel my tongue more intensely, reaching the inside of her labia, her clitoris. She was shivering at the thought alone. She stepped back and told me:

“Take off my panties all the way and then remove your wet clothes. You will catch a cold, if you wear them much longer!”

It was true, I hadn’t noticed, but the pee was getting cold and I had goose bumps despite my excitement. Quickly, I pulled her panties down and got up to remove my clothes. My t-shirt almost ripped as I pulled at its neck as the wet fabric was clinging to my skin. I was barely naked as Ms. Kryokova grabbed me from behind and pushed me onto the heap of dirty laundry. I saw her squat at an angle to my position as I looked around me. I felt a tingle as I realized she had spread her legs wide, exposing her panties to my view. She bent forward, blocking my view with her arms. What was she doing? She was fiddling with something on the floor. It was my backpack: she was opening the zipper and pulling the front forward from under her legs. Why was she doing this? I mean, she could squat over my backpack if that was the best position for her to watch, but why would she open it? Was she getting bored and planned to have a look at my books? That seemed unlikely…

A shadow made me turn my head back. Ms. Birch stood astride over me. Now she was squatting directly over my head. I forgot everything about Ms. Kryokova and concentrated on the vulva that was approaching my face. It was the first time that I saw Ms. Birch’s vulva from directly underneath, her pronounced inner labia parting as she opened her legs wider. I got a glimpse at her clitoris – I hadn’t seen one before, not even Ms. Kryokova’s. I saw her vulval vestibule, the opening to her vagina, I was totally excited. As soon as she was close enough, I started to lick her inner thighs, progressing as fast as I could to proceed quickly to suck her labia, to discover the area between them that I had just got a short glance of. She tasted slightly different than Ms. Kryokova, I thought. But I liked it and I felt how she shivered every time my tongue got close to her clitoris.

Ms. Kryokova had positioned herself such that she could watch us. She enjoyed how her neighbor was approaching orgasm as I had licked her for a few minutes. This was the right moment, she thought!

“Uh, oh, I can’t hold it anymore!” she shouted. She saw how Ms. Birch’s head turned to her. A little trickle left her urethra, wetting her panties’ crotch. There must be a clearly visible wet spot, she thought, a rush of excitement passing her spine. “This is too much, I am wetting myself!” she called out, pressing her hand against her pussy and feeling more pee soak into the fabric.

Ms. Birch’s eyes widened. Her neighbor was really wetting herself! Only now she realized that Ms. Kryokova was straddling my open backpack. “Is she really going to ruin the poor boy’s books”, she thought? She had to stop her!

I hadn’t noticed anything of what was happening. Totally absorbed in my task, I licked her pussy clean and now decided to thoroughly wipe the area around her clitoris with my tongue.

Ms. Birch gave a jolt as a wave of pleasure shook her body. She didn’t really care what Ms. Kryokova did at the moment – exactly as her mischievous friend had calculated. Another short jet of warm, golden liquid left her neighbor’s bladder and wet her panties. The wet spot now fully covered her crotch, and a first drop started to form and drip into the backpack as she pulled her hand back. This was so exciting!

As she released another very short spurt, it went almost directly through the fabric clinging to her pubic hair and dripped into the open backpack. She pulled up her dress to watch her pee’s destiny.

This movement restored Ms. Birch’s attention. She was abruptly brought back to reality, only seconds before she experienced an orgasm. It took her a while to realize what she saw: Ms. Kryokova had exposed her panties and was looking down at her wet crotch, pee steadily dripping from her panties into my backpack.

“This is not true! This cannot be happening! Ms. Kryokova is not peeing in his backpack!” she thought. “It was just a dream, a fantasy, a story we made up over tea in the kitchen – this simply can’t be reality. I must be dreaming!”

And again my tongue hit a sweet spot; Ms. Birch forgot about Ms. Kryokova and was oblivious to anything but the waves of pleasure flooding her mind.

Ms. Kryokova had watched another very short spurt of pee finding its way through her panties and dripping into my backpack. Excited, she saw how her pee was dripping onto my atlas and building a small elevated puddle on the plastic cover. As another few drops emerged from her pussy, the puddle started to spread; the pee was slowly making its way across the atlas and started to run down its spine, soaking into the fabric of the backpack.

Ms. Birch experienced the best orgasm she could think of as I was still caressing her pussy with my tongue, gently sucking at her urethra. She hadn’t known this felt so good! Thirty seconds passed, and she was still shaking from the hormones that flooded her body.

Ms. Kryokova had stemmed the flow and was looking at us. She was trembling with excitement as she saw how Ms. Birch experienced her orgasm, totally oblivious of what was happening right in front of her. She loved to think how Ms. Birch had unwittingly consented to her wetting the schoolbooks by concentrating on her orgasm rather than objecting to her friend’s act. She had told her before, and Ms. Birch would certainly feel remorse or at least occasional pangs of conscience when she was in her senses again. Ms. Kryokova was aroused at the idea of inflicting her neighbor with qualms and she loved to torture that little innocent boy by wetting his school stuff. His humiliation when he had to tell his parents or his teachers! Or Ms. Birch – what would be her reaction when she found out that the boy was in fact innocent and had never peed on her? She would tell Ms. Birch later, adding to her pricks of conscience!

Slowly, Ms. Birch was recovering and her stare got livelier. She looked around and her gaze stopped at Ms. Kryokova. Really, she had forgotten about that!

Ms. Kryokova saw how a conscious stare was focusing on her crotch and she cautiously released another jet of pee. She stopped immediately, looking down to see it trickle through her panties, dripping onto the atlas, spreading in a new puddle across the cover. She looked at Ms. Birch and saw her friend’s eyes widen in disbelief. Another carefully controlled stream of pee was allowed to pass her urethra, and a constant, slow trickle from her panties onto the atlas developed.

Ms. Birch saw how the wet spot in Ms. Kryokova’s panties got darker, then how a dent formed, a drop hanging from it, now falling into the backpack. More drops followed, developing into a constant trickle. She looked at the backpack. Yes, it was open, and the pee dropping onto a book. There was a puddle on the book already, threatening to run off its corner!

Ms. Kryokova was so horny; she had to concentrate hard not to rub herself to orgasm straight away. She loved how Ms. Birch’s eyes had widened, how she was staring at her in disbelief, how she was still fighting to shake off the effects of her orgasm, desperately trying to grasp the full meaning of the situation. Looking down, Ms. Kryokova saw how her little trickle fueled the growth of a sizeable puddle on the atlas, now almost reaching the corner. A few drops more, and the puddle would spill over the corner, wetting the pages of the book before they reached an exercise book. Excitement flooded her body – this was so wicked, she felt so naughty! The next drops would make the puddle overflow, playing havoc with the books. She put her hand in her crotch and pressed the wet, warm fabric against her vulva as she released another carefully measured spurt of pee. Urine was running over her fingers and she saw how drops of her golden nectar filled the puddle; it spilled over the corner, wet the pages and left a large stain on the exercise book’s unprotected cover before spreading further over the sheet, leaving a darkened trace where the pee soaked into the paper. She enjoyed the destruction her pee was causing on my books. Then she forced herself to stop the flow again and looked up at us.

“I just couldn’t help it.” She excused herself. “The pressure got too strong; I can barely hold it now!”

She was holding her crotch now, pressing her hand firmly against her wet panties, savoring the stimulation of her clit.

“But you cannot pee into the backpack. Just look at the books in there – it would be hard to repair the damage.” Ms. Birch replied. She was happy that her neighbor had gotten herself into a compromising situation, and it excited her how daring her friend was. But she couldn’t accept any more damage to happen…

“I’m afraid it already happened.” Ms. Kryokova shrugged her shoulders. “I was so concentrated on watching you, I completely forgot about my desperation. Suddenly it happened and I couldn’t stop it in time!”

This was not exactly true – she was not as desperate yet. But she really needed to pee and she had enjoyed releasing a few spurts in such a naughty manner, indulging in the feelings this would create in Ms. Birch and me. And it was so exciting to watch her own pee slowly soak into my stuff, ruining it in slow motion, she thought. How the wetness darkened the paper as her urine soaked into it – a far slower and enduring experience than just watching the first squirt soaking her panties. She needed this extra time to bring her sexual arousal to the top. She was so turned on by her mischievous acts… Sometimes, it just overcame her, stronger than reason.

The last exchange had attracted my attention. So Ms. Kryokova was actually wetting herself? Was she still sitting with her legs wide open, facing us? Would I be able to get an unobstructed view of her wet panties? All of a sudden, wet panties appeared so much more interesting than an exposed pussy I had already licked for a while. I turned my head away from Ms. Birch’s crotch and looked at Ms. Kryokova. Really, she was still sitting astride over my backpack, and her wet knickers continued dripping pee into it. How exciting! – Indeed, she was a naughty woman, I thought. She had really – even if not intently – peed on my backpack! Through her panties! I started to tremble with excited compassion as I saw how Ms. Kryokova presented her wet hand to her neighbor.

Ms. Kryokova saw that I was looking, and with a shiver along her spine she felt her bladder twinge. It turned her on to imagine giving me a live example of what she had been doing – and unwittingly, she moved her hips a bit and spurted into her panties. As soon as she felt her urine trickling into her vulval vestibule, she knew she shouldn’t be doing it; that her pee was already soaking into the paper of my books, doing irremediable damage. But she simply couldn’t resist the temptation. She prepared another spurt – this time consciously. And once again pee collected in her panties as a carefully measured squirt found its way through the fabric and started to drip into my backpack. It was now dripping onto the far side of the atlas and quickly started to run down its spine, soaking into the fabric of the backpack. It was better to avoid too heavy damage to the books.

“Stop it!” Ms. Birch cried and got up. “Be careful, I mean, no you can’t do this, think about the consequences!” She was totally confused. But slowly, she was sobering up and her mind had started reeling about possible consequences of my things being damaged.

Ms. Kryokova apparently managed to stem the flood again. A last few drops were dripping from her panties, but there was no longer a constant trickle. Ms. Birch had gotten up and was standing next to her. She appeared to be nervous. I was staring at them, at Ms. Birch’s exposed hairy vulva and Ms. Kryokova’s wet panties, a last drop forming to fall and soak into my backpack.

“It feels so good!” Ms. Kryokova whispered to her neighbor. “Look how my pee is soaking into the fabric – the back of the backpack is all wet already! And here the dark spot where it wet the paper – this is really turning me on!”

“Don’t tell me you did this on purpose?” Ms. Birch whispered back, shocked yet thrilled.

“No,” she lied, “but when I saw it dripping down it turned me on…”

“But what are you going to do now?” Ms. Birch wanted to know. She admired her friend for the courage to make her dreams come true.

“Can’t you feel the excitement? – I actually did what we were fantasizing about in the kitchen! I hadn’t thought it would ever come true…” Ms. Kryokova replied.

Shocked and excited, Ms. Birch noticed how her vulva started throbbing at the thought that Ms. Kryokova might deliberately continue to pee into the backpack. She was torn: she had a bad conscience about the books – but at the same time she wished her friend did exactly that.

Ms. Kryokova read Ms. Birch’s mind like an open book. She sensed her friend’s indecision and curiosity. Inwardly smiling to herself, she got up and looked down at me: Yes, the boy’s gaze was fixed at her crotch, too. Slowly, teasingly, she pulled down her wet panties, until, kicked off her foot, they fell into the backpack. Her wet panties now lay on top of my books, soaking in the last drops that were left on the atlas’ cover. She observed how my gaze was steadily moving between her now exposed private parts and my backpack. Warmth filled her abdomen and her heart throbbed as she relished the situation.

Indeed, I was watching them, my penis twitching as Ms. Kryokova was uncovering her private parts. Had anyone noticed my arousal? Had they noticed that I was soaking in the view in front of me, like the cloth had her pee?

Pretending desperation, Ms. Kryokova bent over as if a sudden surge was overcoming her. Straightening up, she bend her legs, slowly spreading her knees far apart as she came to squat in the same spot as before. Seeing her squatting with her most intimate region fully exposed turned me on – I immensely enjoyed the view, only wishing I could be closer.

Whilst moving slowly, enjoying the hypnotizing effect her revelations had on me, she maintained a pretention of desperation and urgent need towards her neighbor still standing at her side. And within seconds of her squatting I saw a short but sharp jet of pee emerge from her vulva. It shot forward over the books and splashed on my backpack’s open front flap.

My excitement rose. What a stream, what force! I wanted to see more of this! On the other hand, I hoped she would not wet all my books – my conscience was vividly drawing pictures of the consequences at home. The idea of my backpack being drenched in Ms. Kryokova’s pee turned me on, but I knew I would be in trouble if my books would be destroyed. Briefly, I diverted my glance to look in her face: What was in store?

“I fear I can’t hold it anymore. I’ll cave in and piss all over the books if we don’t find a solution, quick!” Ms. Kryokova exclaimed, pressing her hand firmly against her vulva. She had enjoyed how her jet of pee hit the backpack, soaking into the fabric immediately whilst I was watching with my eyes wide open and with her friend standing next to her, staring in awe. And she had seen my glance of horror and excitement: to her an invitation to continue…

The scent of her pee was slowly filling the room, adding to her neighbor’s flavor emanating from my body still glistening in wetness. Ms. Birch found the smell strangely reminded her of the incident two weeks ago – and realized it turned her on.

“You could pee on him like I did last time.” Ms. Birch suggested, a hot wave shaking her as she remembered how aroused she had been. She didn’t even think about punishing me anymore, it was just the desire to provide Ms. Kryokova with an adequate place in replacement for the backpack. She was completely oblivious on how I might feel about it – she didn’t care. They had never yet asked me for my opinion and she had come to take my submission for granted. Her arousal had been building constantly over the last minutes; she was totally horny again, unconsciously suppressing her morals as her hand mechanically played with her vulva. My quietness helped a lot to keep her peace of mind.

Looking at her, Ms. Kryokova realized what her friend didn’t. She knew she had to take the chance and do what her friend suggested. Later she could tell her how she abetted her to pee on me, completely charging all responsibility on Ms. Birch. She whispered:

“And what if I squat his face? He can lick me dry immediately once I finish peeing on him.”

“I don’t think it matters where you sit?” Ms. Birch said, not aware of what that meant. She just considered it would be smart to give in to her neighbor’s proposal so she would move quickly and not regret giving up the backpack. Deep inside she knew she wanted to discuss the current situation at a later tea time – she had always been very aroused by the way Ms. Kryokova narrated the events.

“You could sit on his lap so he doesn’t move and I come over to squat in your previous position” Ms. Kryokova suggested.

She had not finished her sentence when another short spurt of lightly scented urine left her bladder to emphasize the urgency of her need. A mischievous grin in my direction followed, before she looked down to watch how pee was soaking into her wet panties still lying on the books. Her urine had completely drenched the fabric, thus wrapping the books in a tight wet cover: Yes, this spurt had been well aimed, she thought, excited.

Ms. Birch followed her friend’s look and in awe starred at the ebbing stream adding to the destruction in my backpack. She got nervous: The drenched panties were clenching on to the books and would be slowly releasing their wetness to the paper. Ms. Kryokova would have to move to a different spot quickly to avoid further damage!

“Maybe he would even drink my pee if I promise not to wet his books anymore?” Ms. Kryokova mused almost inaudibly, partly to herself, as she observed the wreckage under her squat.

That was a wicked idea – she had to hold on to it, she thought!

Ms. Birch didn’t even listen. She only wanted to get her friend away from the backpack as quickly as possible.

“Why don’t you ask him, then?” she replied automatically and turned to approach me. She hoped Ms. Kryokova would follow her example suit and leave the backpack alone.

“That’s a good suggestion, thank you!” her neighbor said, hit by a wave of sudden excitement, and got up smiling. Her neighbor had not rejected her daring proposition, no: she was even encouraging her. This promised to be thrilling. And she wouldn’t bother to heed the dirty brat’s opinion: If he hadn’t screamed out aloud by now…

Moments later, the two ladies stood in front of me, Ms. Kryokova slowly lifting her dress whilst making eye-contact with me. She pulled it over her head, exposing her bra holding the volume of her large breasts.

“Toss it on the table so it won’t get wet!” Ms. Birch suggested as she stepped around and straddled me.

Ms. Kryokova decided that was another good suggestion – she swung the dress over her head, let it fly and straddled me. One leg left, one right, her pussy was looming directly over my face. Menacingly slowly, she squat down and pronounced:

“I really like to punish this little brat. He should learn from it!”

Turning to me, she added:

“You’d better obey me now or your school stuff will be ruined!”

She almost sat on my face. Her vulva was about twenty centimeters from my face. I saw her wet pubic hair, her slightly parted inner labia, a hint of her clitoris hidden within, and in the shadow I could guess her urethra and vagina. I didn’t know which I preferred: Ms. Birch’s thick hairy bush, her red and pronounced labia, her larger clitoris and clitoral hood or Ms. Kryokova’s less hairy, lighter tanned pussy with a shallower vulval vestibule, presenting her clitoris, urethra and vagina more clearly to my eyes. Whatever – I loved to watch them both.

I nodded, not diverting my gaze from her vulva. I had no idea about her kinky idea and what was going to follow!

Ms. Birch, too, was now straddling me in a low squat. I felt her pubic hair briefly brush my erect penis. After a while I felt it again, getting closer. Ms. Birch had found the squatting position uncomfortable and prepared to really sit on my lap. I felt her pubic hair touch my groin, my penis being pushed forward as her crotch settled on mine.

“I am going to pee in your face now!” Ms. Kryokova continued her proclamation, watching my face.

My facial expression must have shown little disgust: Ms. Birch had readjusted her seat and her moist inner labia were gently rubbing my scrotum. My little dick twitched, pushing against her mons pubis – it felt real good!

This was not what she had expected to see. And – letting a short spurt escape her urethra – Ms. Kryokova scowled at me saying:

“Listen: I will pee little spurts into your mouth and you will swallow them. If you stop drinking my pee, it means that you give me permission to release the remainder of my bladder’s contents into your backpack. Ok?”

Finally settled in a cozy position, Ms. Birch listened to the last part of the sentence. “If you stop … bladder’s contents … backpack.” – That didn’t sound good! Nervously she rocked for- and backward. Would I do what Ms. Kryokova had asked for? She had not understood what it was, but she fervently wished I agreed – nothing was worse than Ms. Kryokova releasing all her urine into the backpack!

“You’d better do as she says!” she advised me.

Seeing Ms. Kryokova’s urethra move forward and opening up as her lightly scented pee left her vulva made me shake with excitement. This was the first time I was able to observe close up how a woman peed.

Ms. Birch enjoyed the stimulation on her clitoral hood that was caused by my penis pressing against it as I was trembling. She got turned on more and more. She tried to look at my face, waiting for my reply to Ms. Kryokova’s question.

As I didn’t reply immediately, Ms. Kryokova released another short jet of her golden pee all over my face. Ms. Birch realized in awe that her friend actually peed on my face and suddenly became aware of their conversation earlier. Had I already agreed to follow her friend’s orders? She blushed: Hadn’t she accorded that this would be a good idea? Hadn’t she ordered me to obey? She felt qualms as she watched the pee hit my face, splashing all over it. This had not been her intention! But what had she intended? What had she been thinking? Nothing at all, she realized.

I felt the pee run over my face, some of it collecting in a little puddle in my eye, some running down my cheeks to wet my ear and some moistening my lips. I opened my mouth slightly and tasted the drops falling into it. It was burning in the eyes but the taste wasn’t that bad: slightly salty and with a unique blend of bitter-sweet flavor to it. I nodded again – yes, I would drink it, saving my schoolbooks from definite ruin.

Ms. Kryokova had been watching me, full of expectation. She knew that de facto she could not destroy my books and she hoped that she had been intimidating enough to make me consent to her unconventional proposal. Now she felt triumph: I had consented and she was only following her friend’s suggestions. She had managed to blame everything on us, even if it was her own nasty idea and kinky desire. But would Ms. Birch try to stop her? Would she still consent to punish that little brat if it took these forms?

She changed her position such that her vulva was almost touching my face, her urethra directed at my mouth. She had seen how I had opened it slightly and after a few seconds, I felt a few drops dripping from her urethra directly into my mouth. This very moment her labia were tickling my lips. Instinctively, I licked my lips, my tongue touching her labia and even swiping her urethra briefly. Ms. Kryokova felt a wave of pleasure at this touch and swore she would not let me go.

Meanwhile, Ms. Birch was desperately trying to remember: Why had Ms. Kryokova thanked her for a suggestion? What was it, she had proposed? She knew it must have been something naughty and she was sure she would be aroused if she remembered. Thinking about all the different options they had discussed in the kitchen, she got really wet again. She started to fantasize, to relive the last hour or so in her dreams and unconsciously rocked her vulva against my dick.

“How does it taste?” Ms. Kryokova asked, sternly looking at me, lifting her body slightly.

Ms. Birch almost jumped as she heard this. This had been her suggestion: ask him if he drinks it! Was this really happening? Certainly not! No, not even Ms. Kryokova would do anything as kinky as that! This was no longer punishment, this was cruelty!

No answer – Ms. Kryokova took it for good news and prepared another shot. I had swallowed the few drops and opened my mouth in expectation. What would it feel like if a real jet of pee hit my mouth, I wondered? And there it was: a short, strong stream of pee hit my palatine. It filled my mouth completely within a second and I had a hard time swallowing the urine in my almost horizontal position. I was excited to be this close to a pussy. And as I realized that at the same time a second pussy was sitting on my dick, I felt a pleasure never experienced before. I lifted my hip; I had to press myself against Ms. Birch’s crotch!

“He doesn’t like it!” Ms. Birch thought as I pushed my abdomen against her. “He is trying to escape!” And strangely, she didn’t continue along this line of thought as she usually would have done, but let a different emotion take over: “This feels real good!” she found herself thinking. “His dick is pressing hard against my clit.” She rocked a bit up and down to increase the stimulation. “Come on, give me more!” she thought and let pleasure take over her brain.

Another jet of pee filled my mouth and was swallowed obediently. I looked up into Ms. Kryokova’s face and was surprised: that stern look had gone; she looked somehow absent, her lust mirrored in her face. “Ah! She is enjoying it!” I thought. It didn’t really matter to me, I believed. But then I felt my body quiver: if she liked it, there was a real chance of it going on for a while. I didn’t know if I wanted to drink all her piss, but I knew I would be happy as long as I could look at her naked pussy and lick it.

Ms. Birch felt my jolt and thought: “Yes, that’s it! It feels wonderful – just go on!” Yet seeing how her neighbor sat on my face, she felt her bad conscience return: “He must be really suffering, poor boy. I wouldn’t want to drink someone’s pee!” But instead of getting up and releasing me she pushed against my movement, increasing the pressure. She felt like she was watching from the outside. She didn’t recognize herself. Here she was, compassionate with the cruelty done to a poor teenage boy and at the same time she enjoyed being part of the cruel complot punishing their victim, holding him pinned to the ground. “Am I going insane?” she asked herself, “I like to sit here, and I don’t give a damn on what he is feeling!”

Ms Kryokova felt her arousal rise, she was nearing an orgasm and she knew it. Her wildest dreams were fulfilling: she was forcing a young, innocent teen to drink her pee, threatening to destroy his books which were already near-ruined by her piss, wet knickers still covering them in a blanket full of pee. And all this happened more or less on behalf of her friend who would never have consented had she known the reason for this punishment was completely faked. She had to make that boy drink another gulp of her urine; so much it turned her on. She wished this would never end. Would her bladder refill fast enough to make it last a little longer? As this question raged her brain, another jet of pee left her urethra, passing her labia to disappear between the lips of the teenager lying underneath her. She looked at his face and saw an expression of complete devotion and acceptance. She felt she could do anything to this boy now and he would let her do it.

Ms. Birch was experiencing a struggle of her good side – her conscience – trying to dominate her thoughts and actions, telling her to release their poor victim; and her vicious, twisted side – reckless egoism craving for satisfaction – which had become stronger and more dominant ever since she had confided her first encounter with their victim to her neighbor. Did her neighbor possibly play a vital role in suppressing her conscience and giving more and more importance to her animal spirits, to her secret sexual desires, to her hidden lust to dominate?

As another spurt of pee was swallowed by her victim, Ms. Kryokova experienced her first orgasm of the day.

“Lick my pussy, clean it after every spurt!” she ordered.

And I thoroughly wiped her labia; not forgetting to remove the sticky fluid from her vagina and making sure her clitoris was freed of any trace of pee.

Ms. Kryokova immediately experienced another, stronger orgasm. She almost fainted. A fresh jet of pee followed as a thank you. I swallowed and started to wonder how much more there was as my tongue was playing with her clitoris.

Looking at my face, Ms. Kryokova thought to distinguish a hint of suppressed disgust, mixed with desire to please, and curiosity, which promised large potential to be exploited. “This boy will serve me to discover new pleasures. He is curious and obedient, he will accept to be treated like dirt as long as he gets pussy!” But what about her neighbor? She wasn’t so sure about Ms. Birch. Had her plan worked out to make her sit on the little penis? Did she feel it tickle her private parts? Had her previous orgasm been too strong for her sexual arousal to recover? She knew that Ms. Birch would need to be really turned on to overcome her struggling conscience…

Ms. Birch experienced another twinge of conscience as she heard her friend speak out aloud what was happening. “After every spurt” – it seemed so cruel, and her neighbor was continuing relentlessly, unforgiving. It had been quite a while that she was sitting on their victim’s face and apparently continuously peeing into his mouth. Here! She could see his throat move as another gulp of pee passed to his stomach. She should really be stopping this! But, no, she couldn’t. It was as if any strength left her as soon as she considered ending this situation. And strangely, she felt ever more aroused, her lust increased with every moment she sat astride the boy and rubbed herself against his tiny penis. This boy was serving as their sex slave and it was his own fault. Why didn’t he say sorry? Why did he have to pee his pants as Ms. Kryokova sat on his lap? He really deserved to be severely punished after his failure to react appropriately to their previous, softer approaches! In the light of this, drinking pee seemed just the right punishment for pissing his pants and wetting her neighbor’s knickers in the process…

Even if she knew she was making up excuses to calm her bad conscience, she was surprised to find herself to be quite content with that. No, she wasn’t going to search for reasons to stop; it was not her duty. No, she would have to start considering options only if that dirty brat uttered any complaint. As it was, everything was all right!

Ms. Kryokova turned to look at Ms. Birch and tried to read her expression for the first time since she had straddled their victim.

“Wow!” she thought. It seemed as though her manipulations were working. Wasn’t it sexual arousal at its finest radiating from her? She decided to try a bit more.

“I really like how you drink my pee!” she told me. Turning to her friend she added: “It’s such a turn on to feel this little brat obediently licking my pussy, swallowing every drop of my hot, golden piss!”

Her friend looked up, slowly apprehending what had been said.

“Do you really like it so much?” she asked.

“Incredibly!” Ms. Kryokova replied. “It was a good idea you suggested I’d make him drink my pee!”

This was not exactly true – and she knew it had been her own idea. But she wanted to plant another source for qualms in her friend’s brain.

“Come on, admit it: you are enjoying yourself as much as I am!” she went on. “I can see it in your face!”

Ms. Birch blushed. She felt caught in the act. But it was true, she was approaching another climax.

“I wanna hear it!” Ms. Kryokova teased. “Say it aloud: it feels so good if you openly admit it to yourself. Don’t be shy!”

She knew it would help her neighbor to overcome her qualms. And she knew moral scruples were her real nature, that the sexual pleasure from this torture was a misguided desire to fully accept her long suppressed sexuality. Ms. Kryokova was fully aware of the role she held in driving her friend in this direction and it turned her on to be responsible for turning her neighbor into a ruthless and self-centered lady loving to unscrupulously dominate and humiliate this young boy. It was even better: She would later feel the pain of a bad conscience nagging at her, bringing back the exciting memories all over again. What a vicious circle she was creating in her friend’s mind! She fully enjoyed the prospect.

“It doesn’t feel right. But yes, it is true: I like this, it turns me on!” Ms. Birch finally admitted.

“I knew it. You feel qualms, but really you enjoy sitting there, pinning that little brat to the floor and making him drink my pee to the last drop as you suggested it.” Ms. Kryokova replied, twisting the truth a little. “Here, see how I fill his mouth with my pee!”

She lifted her body and from a distance of about thirty centimeters she shot a new jet of warm pee into my mouth. Part of it didn’t hit its target and ran down my cheeks. Then she moved down again as I swallowed.

“It feels so good when he is licking my pussy clean. And I love to know that it is a futile attempt since it will be followed by yet another spurt of my golden juices.” She described the punishment; and addressing her friend she said: “Tell me about your feelings – I see it turns you on a lot!”

“I don’t know. It is so naughty; I feel so powerful, so in charge, in control. And it feels so right, somehow: I am protecting his school stuff from being destroyed; I know I am pleasing you, doing you a favor. And it feels ok to use this boy for it, since he really must be punished, anyways. How else could we do it?” Ms. Birch described.

“What do you think; don’t you want to try this? I mean, we could change places when I’m done and I am pretty sure your bladder has been filling fast?” Ms. Kryokova suggested. “After all, you made me do it and it proved to be the best thing I experienced in a long time.”

Ms. Kryokova was convinced this ploy would fail. It was too early for such a suggestion; Ms. Birch still faced too many scruples. But she had to consider just how close to an orgasm her friend was. Maybe…

“Uhm, we have punished him quite a lot today…?”

Ms. Birch didn’t really decline outright, Ms. Kryokova observed.

“To be honest: I guess I’d enjoy this even if we were not punishing our victim for his misbehavior. This feels so good: I wouldn’t mind torturing him a little more than he deserved.” Ms. Kryokova tried to lead the way. This strategy had worked fine before…

“Really? I mean, we couldn’t just pee on him for our pleasure!” Ms. Birch wondered.

“Why? Imagine he would let you do it, maybe because he is too shy to say no? Or if you found out our little boy here were innocent. Would that change anything to you? I definitely wouldn’t think twice and continue!”

“You mean, in the current situation? I don’t know?”

“Don’t be silly! It’s too late to change now, anyways. Isn’t it? You can’t undo it. And why should we stop now that he drank most of my urine? We could as well add the rest of mine and even some of your piss now. It won’t kill him and we are absolutely turned on by it. At least I wouldn’t stop before I experience that giant orgasm that I feel building in my pussy!”

“Hm. Looking at it from that perspective… I am actually really horny now and I don’t really think he’s innocent at all.”

“See – I knew you would not object if I would continue. Even if we found out about his innocence right now, you wouldn’t deny me that orgasm. And if you are really honest with yourself, you don’t want to stop it now!”

Ms. Birch didn’t reply anything and Ms. Kryokova was careful to let her seed grow. She knew she had killed another sprout of her friend’s conscience; she only needed to let the poison work.

I gulped down another couple mouthfuls of Ms. Kryokova’s pee. This lady was amazing – she was completely reckless, even unconscionable, pursuing to do what pleased her most. After all she knew I was innocent.

I had listened to their conversation and I admired how she managed to overcome Ms. Birch’s scruples. I enjoyed being her tool, being allowed to lick her pussy and I was looking forward to tasting Ms. Birch’s vulva again. This was my only chance to be so close to a woman and I was grateful for being part of her ploy! This made up for drinking her pee, I thought. Would she convince her friend?

Ms. Kryokova timed her orgasm so that it coincided with the last jets of pee she could muster. I felt her pleasure and excitement mount as her spurts came quicker and less controlled until she almost collapsed on top of me whilst I was licking her urethra and she continued to pee incessantly. Even as I was being physically tortured and abused, I felt that I was in control somehow, making her orgasm through my obedience and physical stimulation of her delicious pussy.

“I want to see you pee in his mouth now!” she turned to Ms. Birch. “I know you want to do it!”

Ms. Birch looked up, surprised. She had been seconds from her second orgasm and it took her a moment to comprehend.

“Your turn!” Ms. Kryokova repeated as if it were the most natural thing in the world, smiling at her.

Mechanically, Ms. Birch followed her example to change places. She straddled my face, her hairy pussy, her beautifully red pussy lips wet with cum taking Ms. Kryokova’s place. As she hunkered down, memories of my previous licking of her vulva and the ensuing orgasm came to her mind, flooding it with pleasure. This was going to be good! Her neighbor settled down on my lap. Something was different than before, I noticed. Ms. Kryokova was sitting higher up, my penis slipping between her wet inner labia, its glans rubbing against her clitoris. It felt way better than rubbing pubic hair, I discovered.

“Just make sure you only release little spurts each time so he has time to swallow!” Ms. Kryokova ordered. “It will be a bit hard at first, but after a while there is nothing better!”

Ms. Birch had been interrupted immediately before an orgasm. Her body was tense with apprehension, her excitement at an unbearable level. The complexities of the new task, the unusual situation of having to pee on someone’s face – all this distracted her, but desire and lust did not cede to fire in her neural network.

Suddenly, a short but strong squirt burst out of her urethra, hitting my teeth. Her pee tasted stronger, it had a rather bitter scent to it and was a bit stingy in the eyes, where a few splashes landed. Still, I managed to gulp it down and bring my head closer to her vulva to lick it. Her lips tasted really good, covered more in female cum than pee. If she had not been so distracted by the new situation she might have climaxed immediately as I first licked her again.

The second spurt was better aimed and measured, but it still tasted somewhat unpleasant. But I didn’t give up, I wanted to feel her pussy and I wanted to satisfy her as much as I had satisfied her ruthless friend.

At the third jet she looked down at me. Her face showed pure pleasure and excitement, she was oblivious to anything around her, just focused on nurturing her sexual desire.

Ms. Kryokova was rocking at my lap, making me wish this would never end. I would drink Ms. Birch’s bitter piss as long as I had drunk hers if she would keep rocking.

“See how fun it is?!” Ms. Kryokova asked.

“Oohh! Yes, this feels good!” Ms. Birch was just preparing to release her fourth ration of urine into my open mouth.

“I bet you wouldn’t think twice now, even if you found out he is completely innocent. It just feels way too good!” her friend claimed.

“Maybe!” was all Ms. Birch uttered.

She didn’t like to be reminded of the fact that she was indeed doing something strange, that she was abusing a teenage boy, torturing him, forcing him to drink her pee. She only wanted to experience that long forgone orgasm now!

Ms. Kryokova ached to find out: would her neighbor be horny enough to forget about her conscience and continue to pee if she knew the truth? Maybe it was too early…

“Lift your body a bit – I want to see your stream filling our victim’s mouth!”

She was deliberately using the word victim to further deaden her accomplice’s qualms. And by making her change positions she made sure her friend didn’t have time to concentrate on coming, postponing her orgasm again.

“What a wonderful yellow stream!” she said as Ms. Birch released maybe her seventh mouthful of pee, this time from almost half a meter in the air. I watched curiously how her urethra – now clearly visible since my lips had parted her labia – moved forward and released that acrid fluid I had to drink if I wanted these feelings to last.

Ms. Kryokova saw my face and was surprised: There was not only that expression of curiosity and devotion she had seen before but also a certain amount of disgust, hidden pain and begging to stop. She recalled the color of her friend’s stream of piss and felt pleasure waft through her veins: Finally, she had accomplished what she was longing for – they were making me want it to stop, and it was her neighbor’s action that caused it. She was sure she could torture her neighbor’s conscience with this fact for a long time, dwelling in vivid memories many a future tea-time. Ms. Birch was relentlessly emptying her bladder into my mouth, her concentrated pee stinging in my throat.

“Have you seen him swallow? Just look at his face, his plea for mercy, his devotion to you and his acceptance of your superiority, of your right to punish him! This must be his way of saying sorry…”

Ms. Kryokova wanted that her friend sucked in memories of this facial expression of their victim. She wanted these memories to haunt her day and night, to weigh heavily on her conscience, so everything else they had done would look ridiculously harmless. Ms. Kryokova knew that at the same time not only qualms but the memory of endless pleasure, of desire and lust would return and these feelings would ultimately prevail the pangs of conscience; making Ms. Birch a perfect tool and accomplice for her twisted sexual fantasies.

And Ms. Birch looked down at my face, not only for a moment, but for the time of her next three spurts of piss. She was rationing her pee now, for fear of running out of stock before she had climaxed.

“I see what you mean – this expression simply turns me on!” Ms. Birch said. “I’m so horny now; I wish this could go on forever!”

Ms. Kryokova knew it probably was not true that her neighbor was turned on by that expression in my face – even if she herself felt incredibly aroused by it – but that it was more probably a misconception of her brain connecting the feelings flooding her body with whatever she was looking at. Exactly as she had intended! Her mischievous ideas were working better than she had dared to hope!

It was time to tell the truth:

“I told you so – now you wouldn’t care if your victim were innocent. You just want to continue. And do you know what? This turns me on; it really makes me hot to know you are ruthlessly abusing this little teen to maximize our pleasure!”

She had changed to “your victim” now, unloading the whole responsibility with her neighbor.

“So you are turned on by what you see?” Ms. Birch asked, completely ignoring the rest of the statement.

“Oh yeah! Especially since I know your victim definitely is innocent!” She teased. “This knowledge adds additional spice to watching you.”

“What do you mean: innocent?” Ms. Birch indignantly asked, “That little brat has littered in my yard, made me pee my panties and then finally and worst of all peed his pants while you were sitting on his lap. Are you calling that innocent? It definitely needs to be punished!”

“Look at it this way:” her mischievous neighbor proposed. “For littering he has been punished by putting the garbage in the right bin. It is not really his fault that you peed your pants, right? Yet he had to clean everything. So that has been compensated for as well. And finally, he never peed his pants. Instead, I couldn’t hold it any longer as we went down to get his socks. Remember how desperate I had been? I sat on his lap and emptied my bladder on him, falsely blaming him to avoid humiliating myself in front of you. For this, which was not his fault, he was immediately punished by us. Now tell me – isn’t he innocent?”

This came as a shock to Ms. Birch. Yes, the argument was right. So her qualms had been right all the time and she had falsely given into her sexual desires?

But she didn’t want to pore over these thoughts and their implications just now. She was trembling with lust and it excited her to torture her sex slave. He was drinking her pee, wasn’t he? So what was wrong with it? She looked into my face, which was pretty much unchanged. Her pee was really burning in my throat, even my eyes and nose were sore due to some stray splashes. But at the same time it felt wonderful how Ms. Kryokova was rubbing herself against me and I knew she would stop if Ms. Birch stopped. I feared she only enjoyed rubbing herself like this because she enjoyed how Ms. Birch was torturing me, herself victim of her manipulations. So I continued to lick pussy and obediently opened my mouth for acrid hot piss to fill it. Ms. Birch looked at my face and burned that expression to her brain. This was what made her feel so excited, she was convinced. And she wouldn’t stop it just because her friend was teasing her with a made-up story.

“As you put it, he might well be innocent. Yet I don’t believe you, it’s just a story you made up to make me stop.” Ms. Birch replied, moaning after a short pause as I was licking her pussy: “And by the way: I simply don’t care!”

“This is what I want to hear!” Ms. Kryokova said. “But just give him a break and let him confirm the truth of my words: I peed on him and not vice versa!”

“If you really insist – why not!” Turning to me she asked: “So, is it true that you never peed your pants and that Ms. Kryokova made it all up?”

I nodded as she looked down.

“Don’t nod – say it aloud!” she commanded.

“Yes, Ma’am, it is true – Ms. Kryokova peed on my lap. I didn’t ever pee in your house!” I replied shyly.

“Why didn’t you tell it, then?” she inquired.

“Dunno…” I stammered.

“Probably hoped to see my pussy!” Ms. Kryokova sneered derisively.

“Tough luck for you then!” Ms. Birch let me know. “I am not going to let you go now – you should have spoken out when there was time!” Seized by a sudden inspiration, she added: “Now open your mouth for another portion of my pee – you can take it as punishment for not being honest if you like!”

And really: she moved close again. I felt her urethra push forward along my tongue licking her pussy and a hot jet of ever more concentrated pee filled my mouth. I had hoped the torture was over now – but somehow I did not regret it to continue, either.

“Wow, this is how I like you!” Ms. Kryokova lauded her friend- she was surprised how eager she was. “Admit how it turns you on to know that he is innocent!”

Ms. Birch had not felt that way, but again the brain’s mechanism worked as her manipulative friend had intended. She tried to focus on it, on how she supposedly liked it to torture an innocent victim. And as she was finally approaching the best orgasm in her life she answered:

“Yes, it turns me on to look at his face, to see his look pleading to stop, his plea for mercy, his desire to please and his absolute obedience, his acceptance of my right to punish him, whatever my reason. I would pee in his mouth for no reason at all, just to see this expression!” she enthusiastically described what was racing through her brain.

“I was so turned on when you told me to pee in his mouth all the while I knew he was innocent – I just had to share this experience with you!” Ms. Kryokova stated. “It makes me come again, seeing how you enjoy torturing your victim, repeating his humiliation with every drop. He will be our sex slave because you made him to be!”

Ms. Birch pressed hard to flood my mouth with another shot of pee. And suddenly, she began shacking all over her body, finally collapsing onto me with the most intense orgasm she had known. She was proud she had turned me into their sex slave as her friend was suggesting. Ms. Kryokova rubbed herself to orgasm as she saw this.

All of us needed several minutes to recover – and then something happened, surprising both, Ms. Kryokova and me: Ms. Birch asked Ms. Kryokova to pee on my face again; she wanted to see it in the light of the knowledge of my innocence.

Ms. Kryokova straddled me with a bright shine in her eyes. This was better than she ever dreamt of.

No one bothered to ask whether I would like it or not. She just squatted and commanded:

“Open your mouth, it’s my turn again!”

Ms. Birch sat on my lap again, this time taking better advantage of my penis which wasn’t erect any more – it had been too much. Rubbing herself against my soft, shrunken penis, she commented:

“So this isn’t turning you on anymore, huh? Now it’s time to feel the real punishment, little boy!” She was talking herself into the belief that torturing me was what really turned her on. “That’s for taking advantage of us!”

She was really angry at me and relished the thought of abusing me: She began to suspect I had rather enjoyed what had been intended as punishment for my supposed wrongdoings.

As I tasted the first gulp of Ms. Kryokova’s pee I had to realize that it didn’t taste any better than Ms. Birch’s piss had tasted. The long time since their last drink had caused their renal activity to concentrate the urine more than before. Ms. Kryokova was watching my face and saw my disappointment.

“Isn’t tasting well enough anymore, huh?” she asked mockingly. “Can’t have everything, I fear!”

The two ladies went on teasing like this, Ms. Kryokova leaving plenty of time between her spurts to make me really taste each mouthful.

“Maybe he wants to gargle it a bit?” Ms. Birch asked viciously. “I fear your pee won’t last long enough if it is wasted by just gulping it down!”

Ms Kryokova was flabbergasted: so her friend was kinky enough to torture their victim even more just for her pleasure? She would certainly fulfill that wish as best as she could!

So I had to gargle the strong pee which filled my mouth to allow my two mistresses enough time to recover from their orgasms and rebuild that sexual charge they hoped on unload in yet another great climax. Ms. Kryokova made me gargle each mouthful for as long as it would last, until after a minute or two the last drop would find its way into my throat under the watchful eyes of her neighbor. An equally long pause followed when I had to lick her pussy, and the procedure was repeated.

“It turns me on to know he is not aroused by this anymore!” Ms. Birch stated. “His dick is soft as can be, and still I am using it to rub my clit. After that strong orgasm, his soft dick is exactly the right stimulation for me; I wouldn’t want it to be hard right now. And you are abusing him as your personal toilet at the same time, making him savor every drop to the fullest. If you continue like this for another ten minutes, I shall climax again!”

“It turns me on to know you like it!” Ms. Kryokova replied. “I will ration my pee to last for a quarter of an hour if you like – but there won’t be more than seven small mouthfuls left.”

And really, I spent the next ten, fifteen minutes gargling pee, licking pussy, gargling pee. Until Ms. Birch came again on my lap and Ms. Kryokova finally emptied the rest of her bladder in my mouth, making me hold it there until she came, rubbing her clit against my nose.

[annon115 32]

I love this story! I cant wait for the next chapter!

[Alpian 687]

Thank you @annon115 for your kind words!

Unfortunately, the next chapter has not quite the quality of the first installments. I'm still trying to figure out how to make the introduction of Sarah more credible. To be honest, every time I'm reading this story, I have been jumping that part as it is so bad. But I'm hoping to put something on here before the end of the year - that's the deadline I gave myself.

[annon115 32]

I randomly rediscovered this while going through old stories. I forgot how much I loved it! I hope it's not dead.

[Alpian 687]

@annon115, thank you for your comment - and I confirm the story is not dead, but I'm having some trouble editing the upcoming chapter, there is some logical break that I'm not satisfied with. Your comment is motivation to try once again 🙂

[annon115 32]

Awesome! can't wait to see it!

[Lutab 1,052]

Looking forward to the next chapter 

[Johnrjohn 0]

Very much looking forward to the next chapter. This is one of the best stories online. I love the psychological battle between the protagonists and how the borders between consent and reluctance merge for the hapless guy in the middle. 

[Alpian 687]

@Johnrjohn, thank you for your kind words! I believe, I found a way to make the next chapter more logically convincing (the draft has a huge break in the logic currently). I'm still working on editing parts 3 and for of my "Tribute" series (different subject) for publication on Literotica though - it might be Xmas until I get around to "Walking to Please".

My "Bunker Break" series on Literotica is also playing with the borders between consent and reluctance, albeit in a different way. In case you want to have a look to pass the time 😉 

[annon115 32]

Wow, I thought this story was dead. Good to know that it's still being worked on!

Can't wait for the next chapter!